#they're only six months and very stupid

[hussyknee]

Today in cats are inexplicable: Mau belly clutching the trunk of a mango tree one foot off the ground and yodelling pleadingly into the ether.

[lale-txt]

❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it. 

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once. 

What a blatant lie. 

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk. 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity. 

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him. 

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again. 

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering. 

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you. 

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently. 

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore. 

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him. 

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone. 

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question. 

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better. 

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”  

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you. 

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck. 

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?” 

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart. 

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.  

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone. 

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share. 

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you. 

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love. 

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right? 

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams. 

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens. 

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up. 

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone. 

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest. 

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe. 

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary. 

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over. 

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment. 

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses. 

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch. 

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms. 

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket. 

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm. 

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again. 

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin. 

“Damn right it is.” 

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs. 

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two. 

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.

[alchemistc]

kiss in the rain, don't let me get on that plane

an: it feels like this might be part of a series. every iteration of a fix-it my brain comes up with penned to paper, as it were.

The air is crisper up here, the sky more blue.

Air operations is a county-wide endeavor here, with five volunteer departments in the surrounding towns to drive the engines where they're needed, but the hangar in the valley below him houses six helicopters, two engines, and one functioning ambulance. The other one is, apparently, out of commission and the yearly budget won't be available for another three months.

His station doesn't work with Air Ops very often, but once a month they host a county-wide dinner and Buck had volunteered to cook the bulk of it, this time.

He's full - with food, with laughter, with a lot of light hearted teasing from the other captains about how he'd only gotten the call because he's essentially indestructible on the job (I've died twice doesn't seem to have much effect when he's standing across from them living and breathing)

He's been getting his lungs used to the elevation for a while now but he can't quite blame the thin air when his breath stops in his throat at the sight that meets him when he crests the hill towards his Jeep.

Buck feels his fist tighten around the shoulder of his duffle.

"Hey," Tommy says, and he looks -

Well he looks exactly like he'd looked three months ago at Buck's going away party.

Eddie had flown in with Chris for it, the smile reaching his eyes for the first time in a while, and Buck maybe just hadn't noticed the mischievous tilt to his grin when Eddie had pulled away from a back slapping hug, or maybe he just couldn't have clocked exactly why he looked quite like that.

He'd just been happy to see him after seven months without the comfort of a key to Eddie's place on his keyring, of knowing he'd get to see and talk to and be teased by his closest friend within a few days of the last time. He'd been ecstatic, actually, the grin refusing to leave his face while he hugged Christopher longer than necessary, while he listened to Eddie whine about his mother in a way Buck had never heard before, like he was actually a little amused by her rather than angry with her.

He'd been happy to be distracted by Bobby and Athena as they began their recollections of all the stupid shit he used to get up to, the calls he'd proved to be vital on, the ways he'd grown and changed in the near decade he'd been a firefighter.

"They're lucky to have you," Bobby had said when there were tears of laughter in everyone's eyes, and maybe he had or hadn't noticed Maddie clock-watching but he certainly noticed when front door opened and wide shoulders filled the frame - large hands curling around the handle, the downslope of a familiar nose hitting the open air before the rest of a familiar face. Thick arms framing a barrel chest and long legs in tight jeans.

It'd taken Buck another four hours and a series of hushed confessions whispered across a shared pillowcase for him to notice the slash of new silver along his temples.

He notices them now, again, as Tommy drops from the driver's side of his truck and tips his hip against the frame, sunlight catching in the lighter hairs. Tommy looks more wary than Buck's ever seen him. More hopeful, too.

"Did you mean it?" Tommy asks, and - Buck had said a lot of things, that night.

He can make an educated guess, but he's actually thinking he needs to make Tommy work for it, this time. It's startling to realize he's actually making moves to be a little selfish when his heart is pounding in his ears like this. He tips his chin. Drifts a yard and a half closer.

Tommy's gaze shifts. "Evan," and it's been three months since that night but they've talked, text threads that switch between bickering and serious and flirty and friendly, a few phone calls on hushed evenings when the cabin walls creak with wind around him. Buck hasn't heard Tommy say his name like that since it'd slipped out by mistake, three months ago, when Buck shifted his hips just enough to hit Tommy's prostate dead on. "I sold my house."

This is the big gesture, then. The one they'd talked about like it was a little bit silly, like it was still the kind of thing people did in movies that didn't really translate to a lived life.

"I literally talked to you yesterday," Buck says, and contemplates throwing something at him out of frustrated elation. A conversation from two days ago clicks. "Eddie knew, didn't he?"

Eddie with a smug tilt to his grin as he tipped the camera away from an unimpressed Christopher, Eddie pressing and pushing and wonderingly asking Buck if he'd thought about actually moving in to the house they'd offered up to him as part of the captaincy package. How Buck had scoffed, content to putz around his little bachelor cabin in the woods.

Tommy shrugs. "I shipped him all the mats from my garage when I was packing. Apparently I'm a shitty liar so he didn't quite believe me when I told him I was just upgrading."

He's beautiful, as he shifts his weight and drifts away from his truck, towards Buck, backlit by the gold-flecked, fluffy clouds hanging low over the jagged horizon line.

Buck checks his grip on his duffle.

"What happened to the car lift?"

It's - it's stupid, actually, but Buck feels like the next ten-twenty-fifty years of his life might hinge on the answer to it. Tommy steps closer - close enough for Buck to smell the aftershave on his very freshly shaved jaw. "I'm, uh. Thinking of having it shipped up from storage. If I find a place to stay."

He's got three more months he can't get out of on the cabin lease. The captains house is currently being occupied by his three most reckless probies and he won't just kick them out on a whim.

There's that ranch he sees tucked away in the valley, every time he drives into work, the one that's had a For Sale sign up since the first time he'd visited, four and a half months ago.

Buck drops the duffle and reaches forward to tug at the loops of Tommy's jeans.

The kiss is warm, soft, familiar. He shoves three and a half years worth of longing into it, in the way he hadn't, three drinks too deep with his ex after all his friends and family had wished him farewell. He'd spent six months after the breakup angry and hoping to make Tommy eat his fucking words; no one kisses like Tommy.

No one curls fingers so delicately around his ear before he lays his palm flat to Buck's scalp and tugs at Buck's hair, no one opens his mouth and licks in with a swirl and a groan like that, no one shifts their weight closer and breathes him in on a gasp.

"Tommy," Buck says, when they're both breathless and overwhelmed. He thinks of the text he'd sent, three weeks ago, after a phone call with Tommy about the kid who'd died in the air with him at the controls.

(Firsts and lasts are never guaranteed, and he hadn't meant it to sound petty, he'd really just meant to make a point about how a first high school dance and a last high school dance weren't so diametrically opposed.

Getting back a string of unpunctuated texts with misspelled words and no order or coherence had been enough to turn on his bedside lamp and call.

Tommy's voice had been tired, defeated, words slurred in a way Buck can't remember ever hearing before. It was a wall breaking down that he'd honestly never expected. Not after he'd thought he was chipping away at them only to realize Tommy had just been reinforcing them at the base.

"God, I fucking miss you," he'd said, while Buck stumbled through a speech about the survival mechanisms of the African beetle bug. Three and a half years, three semi-serious relationships between them and now over a thousand miles separated them as they'd been. A night of tipsy fucking before Buck kissed his sleeping forehead and hopped on a plane didn't change that.

But there in the quiet spaces between their breaths over the phone, he'd felt the weight of being missed by Tommy Kinard.)

"No one calls me Buck up here," Buck tells him, while they both press into each other, hands shifting over clothes, limbs stretching to meet, faces tucked in close. "You'll have to get used to Evan not being so special."

Tommy sighs. A finger draws a line from his temple to the curve of his jaw.

"Evan will always be special to me."

He's the first person since Buck began to ever call him that just because. There have been others, since then, no longer exclusive to the man who laughed as they soared through clouds and the one who'd brought him so fucking low he'd felt parts of himself fully fracture.

Buck is pretty fucking sure this means he wants to be the last. Still. He can tell his expression shutters by the way Tommy looks momentarily browbeaten, but his eyes clear, and he tugs Buck further into his chest, bundles his arms around him. "Ask me again," he says, and Buck stares into his eyes and tries to imagine what they'd look like against a skyline without smog, high up in the air, the ground falling away from them.

"That ranch I was telling you about is still for sale," Buck says, and tries desperately to keep his expression neutral as he continues. "Maybe in a couple years, you can help me with the mortgage payments."

Tommy nips at his nose, his laugh soft and quiet, warm. His eyes are a little misty.

"You're breaking my heart, Evan Buckley," and he has to clear his throat, corners of his eyes going wet. "Always knew you would."

Right now it's little more than a gesture and a promise. Buck's had three years to reflect, to understand that for all that Tommy had been the one who'd helped him reach this current update of Buck, they'd never actually dealt with too many of the hard parts. They'll have to fight for it. They'll have to talk through stupid shit, and miscommunications, and fear and regret and the love, too.

He thinks maybe Tommy's finally ready to fight.

---

Eddie looks smug as he catches sight of Tommy stumbling blearily down the stairs behind Buck on the video call.

Buck makes a face.

"Do you know how many times one of you thwarted my parent trap-esque plans for you two assholes? When you were both single six months ago I nearly hired some creep off Facebook marketplace to kidnap you both and lock you in a room."

Tommy ruffles Buck's hair, flips off the camera, navigates his way to the coffee pot, out of Eddie's view.

"And that's my cue to go," Eddie says, and Bucks gaze darts guiltily from Tommy's ass. "I better be the first one you guys invite to the housewarming." And he hangs up before either of them can argue that this is brand fucking new and they really haven't worked through the details.

He's right, though. He's right. Buck's got his teeth in the back of Tommy's neck twenty seconds later, and when Tommy leans back into it he holds up his phone and shows Buck the listing for the ranch he's been daydreaming about sharing with someone (this someone) since the first time he saw it.

[troublesomesnitch]

Phonesex with Aemond

Modern!Aemond x Reader

Modern AU - Aemond calls you after the dinner fight, and you cheer him up in the best way you can.

Contents: some quick smut. New relationship, mentions of oral sex, p in v sex and brief anal exploration (f receiving).

Warnings: brief mention of terminal illness.

Words: 3300

Thank you @arcielee for test-reading, tidying and generally helping out with this little experimental fic!

It has been six days since Aemond kissed you goodbye and shoved his skis and his snow gear and his aluminium suitcase into the back of a taxi. Six days, and you haven't heard from him since, not a single message, and no indication that he's read yours either. Six days, and the farewell kiss was just a sterile peck on the side of your mouth, because the driver was watching, and Aemond was in a foul mood already.

You suppose the thought of two weeks with one's extended family can do that to a person. And especially when one's family is as messy as Aemond's.

They're in the tabloids sometimes, Aegon with a model on his arm, Rhaenyra spotted topless in Ibiza, Viserys leaving the hospital looking more dead than alive. Old money, and every bit the stereotype too, with their luncheons and country estates and public feuds over inheritance. And the incident, of course. But Aemond never talks about that.

The family trip is solely his father's idea. Or, his father's command, really. His final wish; that they should all spend one last Christmas together at the chalet, eating venison and going cross-country skiing and whatever else rich people do on their alpine retreats. It is all very Town & Country, so far removed from anything you know. They have a coat of arms, for fucks sake, and Aemond wears it engraved on the back of his watch; on the cufflinks that sit in a velvet box atop his dresser. For special occasions, and you'd be lying if you said the thought had never crossed your mind: Aemond in coat and tie and cufflinks, yourself decked out in white and his mother's antique veil. Champagne fountain and monogrammed napkins and an article in Vogue Weddings. Double spread.

But you're getting way ahead of yourself. You have only been seeing each other for about three months, and it is still very new and foreign. Terrifying as well, and your heart leaps to your throat when your phone starts ringing and Aemond's name lights up on the screen.

Six days, and it's a quarter to midnight now, so that almost makes it seven.

"Hey," he says softly. "Did I wake you?"

"No!“ you exclaim, a little too excitedly despite your efforts to sound casual. “I was just watching something. How's St. Moritz?"

"Fine," he says, but it doesn't sound at all convincing, and there's a faint sound in the background. Like a scraping noise, and you imagine that he's picking at his cuticles; at the little chips in his nails.

"Aemond," you call, somewhat alarmed by the silence. "Is everything okay?"

The scraping gets louder before it finally stops and Aemond says sort of.

There was a fight at supper, apparently. An actual fight, with punching and shoving and everything. Straight out of Real Housewives, only even more insane, and Aemond started it, because of course he did. And all because of a stupid joke his nephew made.

"Isn't he like, fourteen?" you ask, and Aemond sighs on the other end of the line.

"Yeah," he mutters. "Something like that".

Jesus.

You are tempted to ask him why he would do such a thing, but you kind of already know. Because of his father, because of his sister, because of the incident. Because Viserys would rather dote on his grandsons than his own children, and because Aemond has chronic pains, and the prosthetic gets itchy, and he dented his car when he couldn't see how close that concrete pillar actually was.

And probably also because he doesn't hold his liquor very well.

"Aemond, you're a grown man," you begin, and your voice is kind and gentle, but you can almost hear how he's pinching the bridge of his nose. "I mean, I understand why you'd be upse - angry, but like. He's a child."

"I know," he sighs, shuffling around with something. "I shouldn't have done it.”  

There's the click of a lighter and then a deep exhale as he blows out smoke, and it reminds you of when you first met. You used to watch Aemond all the time before you worked up the courage to talk to him. He would lean so leisurely against the wall, cigarette in hand and that haughty smirk on his lips; leather jacket, black jeans, hair artfully tousled and tied back. Tall and handsome and just so fucking cool.

"Thought you quit," you tease, and it sounds a little chiding, but it isn't meant like that.

"I did," Aemond says. "I got this one from my uncle - it would have been rude to decline.”

He is quiet then, but it's a sort of contemplative silence. Like somehow you can feel there is more.

"It pisses me off," he finally says. "This whole charade - it's exhausting.”

Yes, you think. It must be. All of his family trapped under the same roof, forced to confront so many painful memories, yet act as though none of it ever happened. Smile and laugh and play house, and all so Viserys Targaryen can pretend he was a better man. Go to his grave with the comfortable illusion that he did not create the rift that tore his family apart.

If Aemond was with you right now, you would wrap your arms around him and kiss his face and his lovely hands, but all you can do at this moment is give a weak yeah, I understand.

"It has been the most miserable week," he moans. "Although - Aegon did fall off a lift today. He's fine, it was just a T-bar. But that was fun."

You giggle. "Oh, poor Aegon.”

"It was his own fault," Aemond snorts. "He had Jägerbombs for lunch. Anyway - " he clears his throat, back to the brooding mood and somber voice. "I'm sorry I called you so late. And for not being in touch. And for... everything else.”

"It's fine," you shrug. "I don't mind. But, Aemond - " you pause, thinking of how best to word the next part, "I think you should at least consider apologising to -"

"No." he cuts in. "Absolutely not.”

There's an awkward silence then, and you worry you might have overstepped your boundaries. He is so difficult to read sometimes, so elusive. You never quite know what he needs from you, sympathy, or flattery, or reassurance, or nothing at all.

You can, however, think of a way to distract him from his brooding. And maybe sex isn't the healthiest way to cope with one's issues, but still. It is miles better than beating up family members.

You twirl a lock of hair around your finger, even though he can’t see it. "What are you doing right now? Are you alone?"

“Yes,“ he says, curious. “Why?”

"What are you wearing?"

"Same thing I always wear," he responds, but then his voice turns coy and teasing, and he asks "what are you wearing?"

You look down at your fuzzy socks, your faded shorts, the worn-out knickers underneath.

"Honestly? Not anything nice."

Aemond laughs, a real laugh this time, and then he tells you just make something up.

The first thing that comes to your mind is that dress you saw the other day. Aemond would like it. He is not into extravagant lingerie and things like that, always likes it best when you are just you. Dry patches on your lips, bruises on your legs and all. Natural. 

But he is still a man though. So, not too natural.

"I'm wearing - I'm wearing a little slip. Silk, and it's the prettiest colour. It is soft to the touch," - you run a finger up your thigh, imagining it - "and it is very short. My legs are out and everything. And my tits look so good in it.”

"They always do," Aemond says, and he sounds a little husky when he asks what is underneath?

"Those panties you liked last time. With the little bows on them?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "I remember.”

"Good. Just the panties, and nothing else. And the dress is so thin - it feels like nothing when you touch it."

You lay back on top of your bed, your hand working its way down the waistband of your sleeping shorts, phone pressed to your ear. 

"I want to touch you," Aemond sighs, voice all soft and gentle. "I want to feel your body against mine.”

You blush. He is quite the romantic sometimes. Jesus, Aemond is so out of your league. You can hardly believe he'd even look in your direction, let alone kiss you and hold you and let you sleep with your head on his chest.

"Aemond" you whisper, slowly stroking your between your legs. "I'm getting all wet. All wet for you".

His breath hitches, and there's a faint oh, followed by the rustling of fabric as he palms himself over his pants. Lowering his voice and breathing touch yourself.

"I already am" you purr. "I wish it was you, though. Wish you could feel how much I want you."

Aemond says fuck, he wishes that too. You're getting him so hard. So hard just thinking about your pretty cunt.

"I'd like to suck your cock" you sigh longingly, and he immediately responds with a sharp breath that makes warmth spread in your stomach.

"Wait -" he mutters. "Hang on".

You hear the metallic clink of his belt, the sound of his zipper, and you bite your lip thinking about what he's doing. Taking his stiff cock in hand, brushing slender fingers along the shaft, running a thumb over the tip to collect the little drops that have already leaked from it. He has the prettiest cock, long and thick and veiny. Uncut, and blushing red at the tip when you slide his foreskin back. 

How you wish you could feel it in your mouth.

"Tell me how you'd do it" Aemond pleads, and there's a slight strain in his voice that suits it so well. 

"I'll start out slow," you whisper, "with just my tongue and my hand. Get your cock big and hard before I take you in my mouth. And then I'll wrap my lips around the head, and I'll press my tongue against the little slit there. And - and I’ll lick the tip of your cock until you’re begging me for more.”

He sighs, and you can hear how his hand settles into a steady rhythm, up and down over his hard cock. Filthy. 

You close your eyes and continue.

"I'd take you so deep, all the way to the back of my throat. And I would tease you - I'd be real fucking mean. I want you leaking in my mouth, all needy and desperate for me. Like, so you can barely hold it back anymore. You'd be ready to explode.”

"Don't stop - " he pants, still keeping up the stroking, pausing just briefly to spit into his hand.

"I'll edge you before I let you come. So many times, you'll be desperate for release. I want your balls so tight and heavy - all tender from how much you need to come - ”

Aemond moans, and he's stroking himself faster, tugging and tugging and filling his bedroom with damp, lewd noises. You know how he likes it; firm grip when he moves up, slack going back down, slight twist at the tip.

"And then?"

"I'd let you come in my mouth."

"No," he breathes. "I want to come inside of you.”

You give a little giggle; he always wants that. Occasionally he’ll finish all over your breasts, or in your mouth, but mostly he likes it the old fashioned way. Your bodies molded together and his cock pulsing deep inside of you. Pressing his forehead to yours or moaning into the back of neck. 

You like that too - but there are other things you might like to try as well. 

"You should come on my panties," you say coyly. "Like, inside them. And then I'd wear them all day, and just walk around with your cum between my legs.”

Aemond groans again, loudly, hoarse and strained and so fucking hot.

"You'd like that?" you tease. "I would feel it there all day. All wet and warm in my little panties. Right against my cunt."

"Fuck," he moans. "Fuck - I'd like that so much."

The sounds of his tugging get louder and faster, and you picture him laid out on his bed, cock throbbing in his hand, hips thrusting up and up into his own grip. Lone eye closed and mouth falling open. 

He lets out a soft moan, and a whine - and then the stroking abruptly stops. Close call, that one. Aemond curses, and you can hear him taking deep breaths, calming his body, halting the mounting need to ejaculate. Too soon.

“Can't wait to have you,” he mutters, and you give a quiet hum in response. 

“Please tell me how.”

He takes a slow, steadying breath.

"I want to be on top of you" he whispers, low, so no one will hear.  "Don't care if you're on your back or what, as long as you're underneath me".

"I'd be on my stomach. You can fuck me from behind".

“Yes,” he sighs. “I want to put my cock so deep inside you. I want you to feel how hard you make me. And I'll pin you down - I'll hold you in place when I take you" - his voice goes all ragged as he starts to slowly stroke his cock again - "fuck you're so beautiful when you're under me."

You mewl, and Aemond’s breath hitches.

“Yeah, and I'll fuck you slow, but hard. I want you squirming on my cock…”  he trails off, and for a moment there is only the sound of heavy breathing, his and yours. 

You had paused your own ministrations before, too focused on finding the right words, but now you begin your gentle stroking again. Underneath your knickers, fingers massaging right over your clit, so good that you let out a little whimper. 

“I love feeling you inside of me” you breathe, “I love it when you lie on top of me - ”

“Yeah?” He gasps, and you bite your lip. 

“Yeah. And I love it when you touch my - ass. Oh It feels so good when you touch me like that…”

Just saying it makes you a little flustered. You would not consider yourself very prudish, but there are some things that make you feel bashful, and this is one of them, the things he does to your backside when you’re together. And Aemond knows, and maybe that makes it even more arousing for him, the filthiness of it, the taboo. 

“How” he moans, his tone urgent and so incredibly intimate. “How do you want me to touch you -”

You have to take a very deep breath before you continue - you feel so sheepish, talking about that, but you are a woman in love, so for Aemond you’ll do your best. 

“I want you to slide your hand down my back and in between my cheeks,” you whisper, blushing all over. “It makes me so wet… feels so good when you caress me there - when you brush your fingers right over my tight little hole while you’re fucking me - maybe next time I’ll let you slip one inside…“

Aemond gives a strangled groan at that, quickening his strokes and hissing oh fuck. He is so close now, you can hear it. 

“Say my name” he begs, breathing so fast and tugging frantically on his cock. All hard and swollen now, his hips thrusting up, his balls pulling tight; oh you can imagine it so easily. 

“Aemond” you whisper. “Aemond, my love” - he moans louder, strokes harder - Aemond, I want you to fuck me, I want to feel your big, hard cock - 

Aemond chokes out a sob, and you say his name one last time as he reaches his peak. 

He holds back when he comes, muffling the helpless groans and grunts that you always love so much. But you can hear his strained sighs, his ragged breaths, and the sound is only slightly distorted through the speaker. If you close your eyes it's like he's there with you, gasping right in your ear. 

Oh you can’t wait to see him again, to get to touch him, cuddle up to him at night and run your finger down the perfect angle of his nose.

"You didn't come," Aemond says, accusingly, and you hold back a chuckle because he doesn't like it when you laugh at him. But it is as amusing as it is sweet, this need of his to do everything to perfection. Like if every time he is intimate with you isn't the BEST sex of your life, then he has failed as a lover; as a man.

“I did it on purpose” you reassure. “I'm saving it for you. All for you. Only for you.”

Aemond gives a somewhat dissatisfied hum, but he is occupied with something else now, moving around and fiddling with things. Cleaning himself up, you suppose. If only you were there to do it for him, you'd lick his cum right off his skin.

There is a loud noise in the background all of a sudden, someone knocking on Aemond’s door, and he scrambles to make himself presentable and tells you to hang on. The sounds are muffled - you assume he is covering the microphone - but you can hear another man's voice, and Aemond saying yes, I'll be right down, and then just fuck off, will you when the intruder won't take a hint.

"Sorry about that," he says awkwardly. "Aegon wants to go out. I should go with him".

You giggle at the thought - it is difficult to imagine Aemond at one of those tacky aprés-ski bars, glow stick and vodka-cranberry in hand. “Sounds fun!”

"Yeah, well, my mother would want me to,” he says sullenly. "You know, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.”

"What's the age of consent in Switzerland?" you jest, but Aemond just gives an exasperated sigh and mutters too bloody low.

You pause, unsure of what to say next, and again there's that loaded silence until he clears his throat.

"I will tell them about you. My family - I'll tell them soon. I promise.”

You can feel heat rising in your cheeks. 

Aemond purposely keeps you far away from his family, and he’ll go to great lengths to avoid running into them when you’re together. In fact he prefers not to go out at all, and you have never questioned it or complained. He’s got you hook, line and sinker - could tell you right to your face that he was embarrassed to be seen with you, and you would still be at his beck and call. 

You shrug. “It's fine. Don't worry about it. You don't have to tell them. It's fine.”

“No it isn't,” he says gravely. “You're important to me. So I should treat you as such.”

He says something else after that too, but you aren't listening, still stuck on the words you just heard. You're important to me. You're important.

It makes your heart leap with joy, and you are only pulled back to reality when Aemond calls out your name, and then sweetheart?

He doesn't call you that very often. It is always so nice when he does.

“Sorry” you blush. “I zoned out. But - I've missed you. I miss you. It's nice to hear your voice again.”

There's no way to tell, but somehow you feel like Aemond is smiling.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yours too.”

You tell him to have fun with Aegon and whatever horrid establishment they end up at, and Aemond tells you goodnight and says he'll call you as soon as he's back home. He doesn't say he misses you too, but that's okay. You know he does.

Because you're important.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

More Than You Could Ever Know - Part 1

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: On god they're about to be so cute. This was going to be one chapter but they can't stop fucking and I can't stop writing. Enjoy!

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

Word Count: 8.5k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: A No Love Lost Christmas Special! Takes place about five months after the end of No Love Lost, sort of an epilogue to the main story.

The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. Usual Warnings, plus smut. Much fluff and smut.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth rotting fluff, smut (fingering, oral f receiving, p in v sex), established relationship, Christmas Special

Part 2

Read on A03!

Doing this in Butcher’s apartment was a terrible idea, because the asshole only cleans when it’s his weekend with Ryan, and you’re right on the wrong end of that. Doing it immediately after work was a worse one, because you’re in heels and a too tight bra that you’re not allow to rip off, throw in Ben’s face, giggling when he all but tackles you into bed.

Doing it without Ben here to smile and pout and snark at might be the worst idea you’ve ever had.

And you’ve had a lot of remarkably fucking terrible ideas.

You’re not really paying attention to your friends around you, because you’re staring at your phone. Turning it around between your hands, waiting for Ben’s text to let you know Ryan’s home from school. That he’s not being bullied, and he’s doing his homework, and his powers didn’t cause what the principal had referred to as structural damage to the school’s foundation, and what Ben had correctly said was just a fucking accident. It’s not Ryan’s fault you pussies put the baseball field right next to the goddamn building.

There haven’t been any incidents since then—Ben had taken Ryan to a large, empty field and helped him figure out how to not turn a ball into a genuine weapon—but it’s still a delicate situation. It took a lot to get Ryan into a public school. A lot of promises of Ryan won’t hurt anyone, you fucking pussies, he’s not a damn baby, and bargains of Ben and I will donate, and go to all the fundraisers, but you’re not allowed to explicitly advertise that Ryan’s here, and many, many thinly veiled threats of if you don’t treat our son like a proper fucking human, I’ll let my wife yell at you. And she’ll rip you to fucking pieces.

You wouldn’t have ripped anyone to pieces. Literal pieces. Emotional pieces had been on the table, as had reputational pieces. It was one of the very few advantages of being so highly and strangely regarded as the woman who killed Homelander and the founder of the Soldier Boy Relief Foundation. People respected you and your opinion, which was an interesting choice on their part, but served you well. Ryan had gotten into the school, and he seemed to be liking it, so you hadn’t even been that mad at Ben for threatening the superintendent.

But you also don’t really get mad at Ben. Not ever. You whack his arms and wrinkle your nose and elbow his gut, but he always feels that you don’t mean it, and you never fight him when he tugs you into his arms and kisses you breathless and dizzy. When he mutters promises about fucking you stupid later, and calls you a brat, and chuckles when you grind onto his thigh in the middle of the office, and you miss him so much-

It’s barely been six fucking hours, Sunshine.

You scowl into the air, even as your whole body sings from the feeling of Ben, strong and deep and flaring in your chest. Shut up, you’re supposed to be picking up Ryan-

Already got him. We’re home.

You were supposed to text me, Benjamin-

Why, I’m telling you right fucking now-

Because Singer’s still on our ass. You sigh, tapping your fingers on the back of your phone. And the Ben’o’phone isn’t admissible in a court of law to prove we’re well-suited parents.

Singer can shove it up his fucking dick-

Ben, please- You cut yourself off as your phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with a message.

Benjamin; Stupid fucking handsome asshole husband

Ryans hoem

R u fuckingg happy sunshine

You smile, typing back Yes. Thank you, grumpy.

Shut the fuck up, Ben grumbles in your head, and all his adoration flares in your chest as you smile into the air like an idiot.

I love you, you massive fucking man-child.

I love you too, brat. Why the fuck aren’t you home yet.

You can almost picture his half-pouting scowl, feel the warmth of his body around you and smell pine drifting through the air. Meeting with everyone.

Everyone.

Yep.

Why the fuck is everyone meeting without me-

Because you’re picking up Ryan.

We could’ve made fucking Butcher do that-

Butcher doesn’t have a super awesome wife who’s going to tell him everything when she gets home, my love.

There’s a pause, and then Ben mutters between the low words of your friends talking around you, Be fucking fast.

MM says your name, looking between you and the bowl on the center of the table. “You put Ben in there?”

I always am. You nod to MM as Ben moves back to a quiet, warm hum in your chest, and tuck your phone into your pocket. “Yeah. I’ll give him his name when I get home.”

“And we’re sure Ben knows how Secret Santa works?” Hughie scratches the back of his neck with a sheepish expression, and you sigh.

“No. But I can explain it to him.”

“Old cunt ever even celebrated Christmas?” Butcher mutters, his feet kicked up on the table. “He don’t seem like the spirit of givin’ type.”

You flip Butcher off, your words short and firm. “He’s not a million Butcher, he’s celebrated Christmas before.”

Ben seems to love Christmas. Or at least grumpily acknowledge it with a soft, easy glow over his ribs and a relaxed face, which is the closest thing he gets to loving something that’s not you or Ryan. He’d told you, at the beginning of the month, that it was the only time his father didn’t drink as much. The only time his mother got to love him and not be caught between he and his father’s fights. The only time he got something as a child that he wasn’t expected to feel sorry or wasteful for receiving. 

You wish there was some sort of supe that could communicate with ghosts or raise the dead. You’d mimic their powers, bring Ben’s father back, and then kill him again.

“Alright, Love.” Butcher raises his hands up in mock surrender. “Just makin’ sure.”

“Suck my fucking dick-“

“Can we, um,” Annie gives you an apologetic look as she cuts you off. “Can we draw? Now? Everyone has work tomorrow, and I would like to go home and eat my weight in sushi.”

Hughie nods, grinning down at Annie. “And watch Love Island.”

“Love Island?” MM raises his brows, and Annie blushes.

“It’s fun-“

“Names, cunts.” Butcher leans forward, pulling his paper, and looks around at the rest of the group. “Before time get’s all our sorry fuckin arses. Except yours. Love,” Butcher winks at you. “You’re stuck ‘ere till the sun goes out.”

“Eat me, Butcher.”

“Oi, I’m not above tellin the Gov you said that-“

“Ben would kick your sorry ass if you said that, Butcher.” MM’s voice is flat as he interrupts, leaning over the table to draw his paper. “You might be a supe now, but that motherfucker would beat up a mountain if it insulted her honor.”

You snort as Butcher’s sour expression, and give MM a grateful nod. Everyone here knows you don’t really have honor—at least not in a way that matters—but they also know that Ben doesn’t really care about that. His notion of your honor is subjective. You’re, apparently, above killing and straining labor, so he does that for you, but he also threatens congressmen and rude parents of Ryan’s classmates with his wife. You don’t lie to him, but he’s flat out encouraged you to commit perjury. He’d threatened a journalist who said you spread your legs for any powerful supe, but then shoved your knees apart to bury himself inside you and fuck you until you were a slurring, whiny mess under him.

It seems to mostly be about what you think of the insult. If that mountain called you a slut and you laughed, Ben would just glower, standing tall and ridged at your side. If it said the same thing and you stopped talking—cold spreading through your body and a ringing in your ears—Ben would make the mountain regret being born.

You miss him so fucking much.

Once everyone has a name and you’re sure no one’s pulled their own name, you leave Butcher’s apartment with grins and half-goodbyes. You, Annie, MM, and Hughie will all see each other tomorrow, and Frenchie, Kimiko, and Butcher will do the same.

It’s a short drive home from Butcher’s apartment, but that’s by design. For Ryan. Butcher lives in the city, and you and Ben are in the outskirt suburbs. You’d say Ben’s benefitting more from this arrangement—Butcher lives right above their office, while you have to drive to downtown for yours—but you’re the one who fought for this. The one who convinced Ben that Philadelphia would be a good place to live, because there was enough to not get bored, not enough that you’d never have peace, and it was halfway between New York and Washington. Most of the supe cleanup contracts that Ben, Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko got contracted for ended up being in New York—you’ve called Ben a murder maid several times, and he always rolls his eyes, kisses the top of your head, and mutters we don’t fucking murder people, we just get them in line when they’re being damn idiots—while a lot of your work is in DC, dealing with the more technical side of the post-Vought mess.

Ben hadn’t wanted you to call it the Soldier Boy Relief Foundation. He’d scowled at you as you’d told him and MM the idea, and their glares had been almost identical.

“There’s no fucking way you’re calling it that.” Ben had snapped, and MM had shot him a look of surprise.

“I mean, not that I don’t agree,” MM had said, scanning over Ben with a frown. “But why the hell do you think that.”

“Because Soldier Boy’s fucking dead. You,” he’d bumped his shoulder with yours, rough affection spreading over his ribs, even as he continued to glower. “Fucking killed him, Sunshine. Don’t use that name.”

You’d wrinkled your nose at him. “First of all, that’s very romantic, Pretty Boy. I’ve always wanted to metaphorically murder my husband.”

Brat-

“But,” you’d continued, kicking Ben’s shin as he’d started to smirk. “I have reasons to name it that.”

MM had scoffed. “There is not a chance you’ve got reasons to justify using that name-“

“It will draw attention.” You’d raised your fingers as you listed the reasons, using a bored, plain tone. “The whole point of this is to get as many victims of Vought and Homelander as much help as possible. Labelling it with Soldier Boy’s name will put it on people’s radar-“

“So would calling it the Starlight or Anomaly relief Foundation-“

You’d shaken your head, giving MM a flat look. “Annie’s supe name is already tainted in the public eye. Mine is controversial. If people hear the Anomaly Relief Foundation, they’ll form an automatic opinion based on the trials and news stories they’ve read. Soldier Boy will get people to actually look at what we’re doing. Older victims will be more likely to come out of the woodwork, supes that admired Ben growing up will be more willing to see what we’re offering them, and congress is full of old white assholes who will love it.”

MM had frowned, but nodded for you to continue, and you’d raised a second finger.

“Vought’s copyright on Soldier Boy expired last year, but Starlight and the Anomaly won’t be available for public use for another forty. Even if Vought goes down, they could drag us with them on petty litigations and technicalities, and we don’t need that right now. Finally,” you’d raised a third finger. “I think it’s poetic, and funny, and rubbing how we won in Homelander stupid dead face.”

You’d won that argument. And the argument about where to live. And the argument about letting Butcher have alternate weekends with Ryan.

That last one had been the easiest to win. For the name debate you’d had to convince Ben and MM, and for the city debate you’d had to convince the whole team of stubborn assholes you called your friends, but for the last one you’d only had to convince Ben. And you always convince Ben. He puts up a grumbled argument, and you tear down his points with teasing, loving words, and he gives in with a grunt. But you always see his small grin, and feel all his love and care and affection bursting from that piece of him near your heart, and he devours your face and neck and cunt until your knees get weak and you almost fall over.

You might love him more than life.

He’s waiting for you when you get home. You barely open the door before he’s on you, sweeping you into a long, deep kiss and groaning down your throat.

Hi, Benjamin. You mumble between your heads, and his chuckle rolls through your whole body.

“Hi, Sunshine.” He grins at you as he pulls away, hauling you up his chest as you gape at him a little stupidly. It’s not fair how he somehow keeps getting more handsome, how a domestic, peaceful life looks so good on him it might drive you insane. How his shirt under your hands is clean and soft and easy to tug on, to pull him back onto your mouth. How, when you finally get your shoes off, they’re on a mat right next to his, and that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. How his beard is so well-trimmed because there’s nothing to rush for, and the whole house smells like pine because of Ben’s constant presence, and when he carries you up the stairs he doesn’t bother to look where he’s going because he already has the path memorized.

“Wait,” you push up on Ben’s chest, dropping your chin on his shoulder. “Ryan-“

“Hi!” Ryan calls your name from downstairs. “I’m doing homework!”

Don’t know how the fuck he’s my blood. Ben mutters in your head, never breaking his pace. He’s all damn smart and good at homework. “You know the drill, Kid?”

“Dinner in forty, only bother you if it’s an emergency!”

Smug pride inflates in Ben’s chest, and when you lean back he’s already grinning at you with darkened, blown out eyes, his half-hard cock already poking at your thigh.

You wrinkle your nose at him. We are not fucking with Ryan in the house.

We fuck with Ryan in the house all the damn time-

When he’s asleep, or watching TV, or has his headphones on. Not when he can hear it.

Then we’ll have him put headphones on-

You are not asking Ryan to use his headphones so we can have sex. You give Ben’s borderline pout a sweet smile, and lean forward to kiss over his beard. But when he goes to bed, I’ll let you do the thing.

Ben’s hunger grows white-hot and ravenous in your body, and when you meet his eyes, they’re darkened and peeling you apart. You have to squirt.

I can’t control that-

Whatever. Ben kicks open the door to your room, shooting you a wink. You have to let me make you fucking squirt, beautiful. No holding back.

You snort. When have you ever held back during sex.

I managed not to fuck you for six goddamn months. His voice is almost a growl in your head, and it’s not help your resolve to not have sex in the slightest. That’s some goddamn restraint, brat. He drops his mouth to that one spot on your throat, sucking and biting until your fingers curl in his hair. You’re fucking hot.

Thanks. Your voice is breathless, even between your heads, and you give a weak pull of Ben’s hair that only spurs him on. Wait, Ben, I need to talk to you-

That makes his pull away in an instant, his attention vigilant as he scans over your face, your skin suddenly wrapped in his concrete resolve. What the fuck is-

Nothing’s wrong. You take his face between your hands, giving him a soft smile. It’s about the meeting with everyone.

The one that you didn’t fucking invite me to.

The one, you swat at his arm, sticking your tongue out. That I’m trying to tell you about now, you big baby.

Fine. Ben grumbles in your head, watching you expectantly. What.

Have you ever done Secret Santa before?

Once. Vought party in the 80s.

You raise your brows at him. Really? How did that go?

I don’t fucking remember-

Well, it was forty years ago. You hold his face between your hands with a mock pout. Is your memory going, Benjamin? Do Ryan and I have to put you in a home-

Shut the fuck up, brat. Ben moves you flat on your back, kissing a very distracting line along your jaw as your finger curl in his hair.

Ben- You tug him back up—because if he keeps that up, you’ll never get around to telling him anything except more—and the asshole rises up with his hunger covering your bones and muscles, his body big and warm and strong over yours-

“Yes, darling?” Ben drawls, smirking down at you, and you scowl.

“You’re such a fucking cunt-“

“You love it,” he shrugs, still hovering over your body. “Tell me what the fuck the meeting was about to so I,” he pushes his knee between your thighs. “Can focus on this.”

Not with Ryan in the house-

You’ll just have to be quiet. He presses his knee up, bumping right over your clit, and grins at your small whine. Tell me about the meeting.

We’re, fuck- You grind pathetically against him, and Ben drops his weight to down to trap you against the mattress stilling the movements. You dick-

I’ll give you my dick. He kisses you once, long and slow, guiding your arms fully around his neck. Just use your fucking words, beautiful.

It’s a miracle you remember how words work, let alone say any of them, because Ben dives back down to your neck—keeping you pinned down as he works you into a gasping, writhing mess under him—and everything becomes very simply Ben in your mind and body.

“I, um,” he nips at your throat, and you have to swallow a moan. “Kimiko wanted to do something, for the Holidays, and Hughie suggested Secret Santa, so we’re, fuck, Ben, we’re doing that-“

Ben rises back up to frown at you, and you whine at the loss. “Doing what.”

“Secret Santa,” you whisper, taking the moment of his distraction to wrap your legs around his torso. “I put your name in, and, um,” you let go of him for a second, fumbling around in your pocket for Ben’s paper, folded neatly while yours was crumpled. “I grabbed yours.”

Ben wraps an arm around you as he sits up, pulling you to fall over his chest and curl in his lap. “That,” he nods to the paper, still in your hand. “Is who I have to get the gift for.”

You nod with a hum, passing it into his hand. “I didn’t look,” you say, watching him un-wrinkle it. “So don’t-“

“Butcher?” Ben looks up at you with a scowl, a hot, stinging itch spreading over his skin and sitting in his fingers. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with Butcher.”

You sigh. “Tell me. Don’t tell me, Ben.”

“I had to fucking tell you,” he snaps your name, glaring at the paper. “I can’t get a gift for fucking Butcher, all he does is fucking work and pussy around, fucking asshole probably doesn’t even want anything like a normal damn human-“

“There has to be something.” You mumble, tapping your fingers on Ben’s arm. “We’ll figure it out, Ben. I’ll help you. But you can’t tell anyone I did, and you have to pretend you don’t think this is stupid-“

“I don’t think it’s stupid-”

You give him a flat look. “Benjamin-“

“I think Butcher’s a fucking ball strainer.” Ben shrugs, fisting his paper into a ball and tossing it onto the floor. “But I’ve got you, Sunshine, so I’m good.”

You flush, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Ball strainer’s a new one. I like it.”

“Good,” Ben mutters, relaxing under your hands, the glow returning in his chest. “Who the fuck did you get.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why the fuck not, I told you mine-“

“Which you weren’t supposed to do.” You give him a flat look, and he rolls his eyes. “It’s Secret Santa. You’ll find out with everyone else.

“What’s the fucking point of being married,” Ben grumbles, pulling you a little further up his chest. “If my wife won’t tell me all her secrets.”

“You already know all my secrets, Benjamin.”

“Not fucking all of them-“

“This isn’t a secret.” You smile at him, and the glow spreads up his spine. “It’s a surprise.”

“Whatever.” He grumbles. “Sounds like a fucking secret.”

You kiss his cheek with a soft hum. “Grumpy-“

Your words die in a yelp as Ben flips you over, crashing his mouth into yours with a fervor, his hands squeezing and kneading at your waist.

“Brat,” he growls, and you have to bite your tongue to hold down a loud plea of his name. “I’m going to fuck you stupid, Sunshine, make you fucking drool and beg.” He bites on your lower lip, his knee pushing back to your core, and you whimper. “But you need to keep quiet.”

You will not be able to keep quiet. You’re grinding desperately against him, your mouth slack and open, and your whole body warm and sensitive and buzzing with Ben. Leaving wet, open kisses down your neck, replacing his knee with a broad hand cupping your pussy, groaning onto your skin as he twitches against your thigh.

“Ben-“

“Do you need some fucking help?” He drawls, crawling back up over you with a smirk. “Can’t keep that smart, pretty mouth closed?”

“Fuck,” you gasp as he pushes your panties to the side, running one finger between your folds. “God, Ben, fuck you-“

“I will.” He winks at you, his whole body still filled with adoration and hunger as his tone becomes stern. “Just ask real fucking nice, and I’ll fuck you all you damn want, Sunshine.”

“Ben, please-“

“Think you can keep it the fuck down?”

You nod frantically as Ben’s thumb moves to your clit, rubbing around it but never on it. A metallic tang sits in your mouth as you chew through your cheek, and Ben must see the tint of red or feel the sting of pain, because he pulls back suddenly, and you can’t stop your moan of protest.

“Not going to let you fucking hurt yourself.” He mutters, raising your legs up as he pulls off your underwear. You can talk here, he balls up the cloth, rising back up over your body. But that’s it. Got it?

You glance at the underwear in his hand, and swallow as you realize what he means, your mouth falling open without a single other thought.

Fucking words-

Got it. You smile up at him, curling a hand in his shirt to tug him down into a deep, easy kiss, pulling his tongue between your teeth. Fuck me.

He rises back up, scanning over your features with an attentive, rough care that pulls you apart and makes your whole body molten. There’s a sharp, sore ache over his skin and in his muscles, his free hand trailing slowly over your thighs, and God, if he doesn’t fuck you right now you might die.

Please, Ben. You grind up into the air, letting all of your love and thirst for him leak out of your body and into his. Please.

You can see the moment it hits him. His eyes flash, his nostrils flare, and if there was anything holding him back from just fucking you it’s gone. He presses his thumb on your lower lip in a silent request for you to open, and when you do he looks almost feral. He groans as he stuffs your panties into your mouth, tracing broad fingers over your cheekbones and squeezing your waist as he draws back.

Going to go slow, he mutters in your head, angling your hips up into the air so your ass is resting on his thighs, your dripping pussy is fully at his mercy. Take my fucking time.

Ben-

He slaps your pussy once, and your moan is muffled as your eyes roll back in your head.

So fucking wet, he says your name in the silence, smirking at you as he repeats the movement and your hips buck into the air. And fucking needy, already whining and I’ve barely damn touched you-

Please, you widen your eyes at him, your fingers curling in the sheets when he drags his thumb up, over your slit, and presses hard on your clit. Fuck, Ben-

What do you want, darling. He presses his thumb down, angling it so he can tease your already fluttering cunt with two forefingers. You want my fingers? He shoves them deep into you, crooking them as they hit that deep, soft spot that makes everything in your body sing.

Fuck-

Or, he kisses a sloppy path down your chest—pausing only to flick his tongue over your nipple and smirk at your high, muffled noise of need—and moves one hand back to your hips, adjusting you further upwards as he buries his face between your legs. My mouth?

His beard brushes and tickles your thighs as he tongue-fucks you, his nose bumping your clit, and God, it’s everything. Ben’s everything. Just the sight of him—in all his stupid, handsome glory, all of it just for you—makes you dizzy. And he’s touching you like you’re holy and grinning against your cunt as you make high, muffled sounds, and you’re so close already and he’s so good-

Ben. You don’t have to the strength to push up on your elbows and fully look at him, and he’s holding you still with big, warms hands that pull and rub at your skin, so all you can do is moan into the mock-gag and arch your back when he licks a rough stripe up your cunt. Fuck, Ben, I need you, please-

He hums against you, flattening his tongue on your clit as one hand snakes back under your ass, playing and teasing around your cunt, never pushing in. You like this, darling? Like getting my mouth and fingers the needy fucking miracle you are, like it when I fucking worship your perfect pussy-

Yes, please-

He shoves two fingers back into you, pumping and scissoring as he flicks his tongue over that bundle of nerves. Tell me how good it feels, Sunshine, talk to me-

So good, you whine, and he chuckles in a way that rolls right into the tight coil near your gut. Fuck, Ben, fuck me, please-

That what you want? He rises back up with one last suck of your clit, leaving you whining and empty and fuck, he’s so handsome and all yours and looking at you like you’re some sort of god-

Benjamin-

His cock slaps on your clit—you don’t even know when he took off his pants, because everything is just a haze of warm and pine and Ben and good—and you fucking squeal.

You want my fucking cock, beautiful? Want me to make you squirt all over my fucking dick, fuck you like you deserve, fuck you until that smart, pretty mouth is fucking drooling and screaming my name-

Please, you hook your legs around his waist, trying to guide him inside you. Want you-

Beg.

I did, you asshole- The gag barely muffles your moan as Ben teases the head of his cock inside you, and you almost fly off the bed. Fuck, please-

More.

Please, Ben, please fuck me, please-

Good girl. He pushes himself inside you without further warning, primal satisfaction glowing over his ribs and abdomen as ghosting, iridescent fire covers your skin. So fucking beautiful, he growls your name between your heads, dragging himself out and slamming back in with a bruising force. Fucking perfect. So tight and wet for me, Sunshine, always so fucking good-

Ben groans as you squeeze around him, but he doesn’t pick up the pace. He just moves your hips a little higher, towering over you as he slowly thrusts in and out of your aching pussy.

Fuck, you’re a goddamn marvel, beautiful, feel like fucking heaven, could die here-

Ben, you whimper around your underwear, somehow finding the strength to reach up to him. Please, faster-

It’s all he needs. Ben’s praise becomes slurred as he fucks into you at an inhuman pace, his skin slapping sinfully against yours and his cock bumping your cervix with every thrust.

Christ, fuck- He falls over you, kissing over your collarbone before sucking on your neck, his movements becoming jerking and uncontrolled. You’re- fuck- Such a good girl, taking my cock so fucking good, fucking made for me, best fucking pussy I’ve ever seen, fucking love you-

You’re so close. Everything in you is alight and desperate for release, and you’re only a split second from begging for it when Ben groans against you, rising up to watch you with a devout, starved focus you can feel pounding in your heart.

You’re perfect. His voice in your head is deep and so fucking hungry, and you whimper. Cum, Sunshine.

Release rips through your body, and Ben rips your underwear out of your mouth, slamming his lips over yours and kissing you into the mattress. You scream down his throat as he fucks you through your orgasm, and when something warm and wet flows out of your pussy, Ben’s cock starts to jerk and spill into you. It’s so warm and blissful and made of Ben’s ardor and pleasure, and it sends you over the edge once more.

Neither of you try to move for a minute, Ben’s brow dropping to yours as you sit in his safe, certain warmth.

“We’ve got dinner.” He mutters, kissing the space between your eyes as he pulls out of you. “Go shower, beautiful.”

“You need to shower as well-“

“I’ll shower after.” Ben shrugs, rubbing on your thigh as he sits on the edge of the mattress. “You’re a bigger mess than me, darling.”

“Then I,” you mumble, and he rolls his eyes, jagged affection flaring in his body. “And I’m only a mess because you’re a tease, Pretty Boy.”

Ben snorts, leaning down to give you one last, soft kiss. “You love it,” he mutters onto your lips. “See you downstairs.”

You don’t move for a while after the door closes behind him, and you don’t know how long passes when Ben sparks in your chest, his words low in your head.

Move, Sunshine. Dinner’s almost ready.

Shut up. You smile at the ceiling, because he’d known you would still just be lying, fucked out, in bed. I hate you.

No you don’t. You fucking love me. 

I’m allowed to feel two things, cunt.

But you don’t, brat. Say it.

You roll your eyes, pushing up on the bed. I love you, you dick.

I love you too. You feel him glow in your body, and you shuffle to find where Ben had tossed your pants. See you in ten.

You nod mindlessly into the air, and pull your own paper out, smiling easily at the name. See you soon, my love.

—————

Ben worked in a fucking office. He did a goddamn commute every weekday, got dropped off at a fucking office, received a paper bag and a kiss on the cheek from his wife, then worked from nine to fucking five.

In a fucking office.

At a fucking desk.

Ben had a fucking desk. With a computer and stupid chair that spun in a circle and a mug that his son had gotten him. It said World’s Greatest Grandpa, and his wife had almost fallen over laughing when Ben showed it to her.

You think that’s fucking funny, Sunshine-

I know it’s funny, Benjamin. She’s kissed him, alive and beautiful in his arms, leaning into his body like she’d never want to be anywhere else. And they were out of Dad mugs, so it was either that or you being the World’s Best Mom.

Ben had rolled his eyes, then kept that mug where he could see it all the time. At his desk.

In his fucking office.

His office with a horrible fucking paint job, and lights that barely worked, and a printer that he had no damn idea how to use. It was why he made Kimiko print out photos of Her and Ryan, and he spent most of the day just fucking staring at them and bothering Her through the brain connection while she worked.

Because Ben was—as She’d call it—being a dramatic fucking man child. He only actually went in once or twice a week, for briefs on new missions and paperwork on old ones. The worst part of the whole fucking thing was that he still couldn’t figure out the fucking computer, and every few weeks he had to sleep at a hotel in New York for a case. In reality he got paid damn well, woke up next to the most beautiful woman in fucking history every morning, and picked his son up from school every afternoon. He got to do work he didn’t hate, and work with people who he—against his fucking will—liked enough not to kill.

Butcher was calling it a Private Military Company. She called it Supe Cleanup. And murder maid, but most supe cleanup.

She was fucking right. In all the jobs Butcher had found for them, exactly two had been non-supe related. And whatever She said was the goddamn truth anyway, because no matter what Butcher claimed, they worked for Her. She got Neuman to give them all their damn cases, was the one who funded a lot of their fucking bullshit, and She dealt with most of the aftermath. Butcher wouldn’t say it because he was a pathetic fucking pussy, and She wouldn’t say it because she was too kind for her own damn good, but everyone else knew.

She was the fucking boss. She called the shots, and looked damn hot doing it. She was the one who killed Homelander—all Butcher had done was shoot a fucking gun, any asscuck with eyes and hands could’ve done that—and the one who built this shit up in a matter of months. She had the ideas for the supe reform programs, and employed all the lawyers who represented the countless victims of Vought and Homelander. Christ, She even got Butcher the damn license to be a private contractor, and convinced that Defense Secretary pussy to hire them the post-Vought efforts. She was the one with a real damn job.

Ben, Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko sat around until someone told them there was work to do, and then they damn did it and went home.

She testified before congress. She dealt with all the fucking press idiots, and offered the supes second chances the pussies didn’t deserve, and made sure everyone got their reparations. Ben wasn’t really sure what the fuck the actual mission statement of Her whole thing was—She’d explained it, tits pressed together as she crossed her arms, and he hadn’t remembered all her big, fancy fucking words—but he knew she was doing something good. She ran a real company, not a group of four fucking assholes.

“It’s not a company, Benjamin.” She’d told him, straddling his torso and pouting down at him as his hands kneaded her skin. “It’s a non-profit.”

“What’s the damn difference,” he’d grumbled, and she’d sighed, tapping her fingers on his chest.

“Well, if it’s a company I don’t get any government funding. And as a non-profit we get exempt from certain taxes, and it lends us a certain credibility, which is important because a lot of people aren’t going to trust us. Which I understand, this is a mess, but we also can’t give the media or public anything that might lend to confirmation bias-“

Ben had pulled Her down as she started to spiral into a fucking overdrive, and kissed her until she relaxed in his arms.

Don’t fucking hurt yourself, Sunshine. He’d muttered. You had me with ‘well’.

That was- She’d let out a small gasp as Ben nipped on her upper lip, her voice breathy in their heads. I hadn’t even started talking-

I know. He’d smirked against Her, rolling them over so he could look down at Her beautiful face, how it was open and easy and all his to keep joyful. You have me all the damn time, darling.

Good. She’d smiled up at him, Ben might have drowned in how fucking perfect she was. Because you have me as well.

He didn’t have Her now. Ben had Her everywhere in the world, except in his arms. She was in the flicking, golden light of the office, and the off-key, horrible fucking humming Butcher was doing across the room, and wallpaper of his phone. Both She and Ryan were in pieces all over Ben’s desk as well. Not just in the pictures, but the little paper guide She’d made him to the internet. It told him how shit like URLs and emails and incognito mode worked, and it was in Her handwriting because She loved him enough to help him with this. Ryan had contributed, and drawn a little fucking smile on the corner of one of the pages, and Ben kept it open to that section all the damn time.

Ryan was mostly in that stupid damn mug that Ben kept on his desk every moment, even when he wasn’t using it.

She was mostly in the ring on Ben’s finger. Matching Her’s, the only thing he ever owned that he gave a shit about. He’d had houses and trophies and diamonds and stupid fucking crystal plates that barely damn worked, but they’d all been replaceable. This ring wasn’t. It was made of all the stupid scrap Frenchie had found in the pawn shop, and fireproof because his beautiful, perfect wife was a fucking menace.

And She wasn’t fucking replaceable. The ring proved that Ben had Her—alive in his body and consuming his every damn thought—and he’d never fucking lose Her. He simply fucking refused to, because he’d never, ever be able to find someone he knew how to love half as much. Christ, he’d never had a goddamn chance, because loving Her might be the only thing Ben had ever been a natural at. He’d learned how to do it without effort, like it was something he was born for, and he’d never want to do anything else again. He was the only pussy in the world who was worthy of it, as well.

Ben was worthy of Her, because he fucking understood that She was priceless and holy. That loving Her was a task, but fuck it was worth it. Every nightmare and hollow, glassy stare when she retreated back into pain—the feeling like torture in Ben’s body, making him feel fucking sick until she smiled again—was well worth it to love Her. Worth how he might not be the only one who got to see all Her damn perfection on the surface—beauty and kindness and smart words that came with a smarter fucking brain—but it was Ben alone who got to see everything. The whole picture of this insane, infuriating, perfect woman.

And fuck, She was a masterpiece. And She was all fucking Ben’s. All his to tend to and hold, all his to throw around and fight besides, all his to grin at and care for and really fucking love. All Ben’s to give the whole damn world, and then reduce it all to a moan of his name when he fucked Her. When he buried his head in Her pretty pussy that tasted like a heady, slightly bitter, powerful fucking drug and rubbed Her clit until she squirted all over his fucking face. All Ben’s to trace with worshipping, firm hands, all Ben’s to get fucking high on.

Because sometimes he’d have his hand braced near Her head as he fucked her, and she’d be a needy fucking mess under him, and he’d trace fingers over Her lips and cheekbones before brushing the hair from Her face.

And his ring would catch the light through their blind shades.

And Ben would lose his fucking mind.

He’d hit a pace that was inhuman, and kiss Her everywhere he could fucking reach. Breathing would feel pointless, because he had his wife under him, screaming his name and being the only thing in the whole world that mattered. All of Ben’s existence would narrow to his mouth on her own, or kissing at Her breasts, or sucking on her clit. His hands would be for squeezing and pulling Her skin, or tracing and teasing over her perfect body, or thrusting fingers in and out of Her pussy. Shoving them deep enough his ring would come out covered in her arousal, crooking them until she was pleading and whining under him, and tasting Her when he pulled them out, leaving Her ruined and whimpering on the edge.

And he’d split Her open on his cock, make Her say his name like a prayer, and fuck Her until she squirted all over his cock and he could pump her full of his cum-

Stop distracting me, Benjamin.

I didn’t fucking do anything. He drawled Her name between their heads, smirking into the air. You’re the one who’s distracting me, brat.

Shut up, you’re probably at your desk watching baseball. And you know what you fucking did.

Ben rolled his eyes, turning off his monitor, and with it the MBA game. I don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about, Sunshine, you spoke first-

Because you started getting horny and loud in my brain, and I’m at work. I can’t start masturbating while I talk to MM and Hughie, they’ll never look me in the eyes again.

Tell them to fucking leave.

I’m not kicking them out of our meeting so we can have mind sex.

You’ve kicked them out so we can have real sex-

Ben could almost see the wrinkle of Her nose. That’s not the same, you looked like you were going to kill them if they didn’t leave-

I hadn’t seen you in a fucking week-

Three days, don’t be dramatic-

And, Ben ignored Her, pushing on. Those pussies chose to leave, it’s not like I fucking threatened them-

They could see your boner, my love. Her voice was bored and amused in his head, and Ben wanted to fucking eat the sound and turn it into a moan. And you almost broke down my door demanding we go on a date, and I quote, ‘right fucking now’-

We should go on a date-

Ben-

Tonight, darling, keep your damn head on. You can stash Ryan at Butcher’s, the asshole looks fucking lonely anyway-

Don’t call it stashing, Ben-

Fine, drop him there after you pick him up-

I was actually, um, I was going to- She paused, and Ben could almost hear her nervous swallow. I wanted to ask, and you can say no, but I-

Words, darling-

Could you pick up Ryan today? I have to go do something.

Ben frowned into the air. Something.

Her voice hummed in his head. Yeah.

Are you going to fucking tell me-

No. It’s a surprise.

It’s a fucking secret-

Ben. Her voice was soft and gentle in his head, and that alone made his frown drop to what She called a pout.

What.

If it was a secret, I would’ve told you I’m working late, or going out with Annie and Kimiko, or something else stupid. But it’s not a secret, I just can’t tell you right now.

She was right. She was always fucking right, and Ben had an idea what this was, but he still missed Her. Wanted to touch her and walk with her and make Her bury her face in his arm when he teased her. You’re going to fucking tell me.

I promise that, by the end of the month, I will have told you. And we can do that date on Christmas eve. Whatever you want.

You don’t have to damn bribe me-

I know. She sighed in the silence, and something in Ben ached as Her own guilt clouded over his eyes. But I want to go on a date with you. And I really want to tell you what I’m doing-

You’re getting a gift. Ben said between their heads, and there was a brief silence before She responded.

Shut up.

Ben drawled Her name, grinning at the air. You’re going to get your gift for the stupid fucking Santa thing-

No, I need to go to the mall for that. Actually, She paused, and Ben felt a smile tug at his lips as he pictured Her pretty face starting into the air, her fingers tapping her desk or leg. Could you take Ryan to the mall? Help him get his gifts? And maybe new pants, I think he grew again-

You have to go with us to get the tree.

If Her nose hadn’t been wrinkling before, it sure as fuck was now. I thought I didn’t have to bribe you, Pretty Boy-

It’s not a fucking bribe, Sunshine, it’s a deal. You go do your secret shit-

My surprise shit-

And I’ll get Ryan and do the fucking shopping. But we’re doing that date, and you’re coming with us for the tree.

Okay. Deal. Ben?

He grunted Her name between their heads, and something warm spread over his whole body at the sound of Her sweet, sharp, infinitely adoring voice.

I love you. She whispered. Thank you-

Don’t. Ben muttered. I love you too. But if you’re not home by midnight I’m finding you and carrying you back.

Her giggle was soft in the silence of the office, and Ben didn’t bother to fight the wide grin on his face. Promise?

Brat.

Cunt.

She faded back into a quiet, perfect presence over Ben’s skull, and now he actually had to damn work. But then he’d get to pick Ryan up—Ben didn’t fucking know how shopping worked without Her there, and he didn’t think Ryan would either, but they’d figure it out—and kiss Her dumb when she got back from whatever the hell she was doing.

She’d tell him. Ben didn’t have a single fucking doubt She’d tell him, because they didn’t keep secrets from each other. Ben could feel Her all the fucking time, and knew exactly where she was across the city, and he didn’t have a single damn desire to keep anything from Her at all. He didn’t see the point in it. That’s what fucking marriage was for, Ben giving his everything to Her, while She gave every part of her right back.

It’s why he was so fucking ready for the holidays. Ben hadn’t had a real Christmas since he was fucking six or seven. They’d either been spent at boarding schools or in military camps through his youth, or at drug-fueled parties through his career. Or just fucking alone. When everyone had people to go to that they cared about more, and Ben didn’t have a single fucking person who saw him as their person.

He’d told Her that, and something soft and pained had flashed over her beautiful face as she held his face between his hands. He’d expected an age joke—So in a hundred fucking years, Pretty Boy?—but all he’d gotten was a gentle, slow kiss and loving words.

You’re my person, Benjamin. She’d mumbled against his lips. And as long as you’re stuck with that, we can do whatever you want for Christmas.

I’m not fucking stuck with it, he’d grumbled, hauling Her up his chest. I love you, Sunshine, you’re not getting rid of me until I fucking die.

She’d hummed, smiling at him. So in like a year, old man?

Ben had rolled his eyes—there She was—and kissed Her until she was squirming above him, then fucked up into her as she screamed his name.

And he didn’t really fucking want much else. There were to many damn traditions for this shit. Activities he didn’t understand, and mistletoe he didn’t fucking care about—he didn’t need a damn plant to tell him when to kiss his wife—and cards that were fucking pointless because they had six friends who they saw every damn day.

He wanted to do some of it though. Ben wanted to eat all the food, and watch whatever movie She told him to—he didn’t understand how a movie about the Grinch could be the best Christmas movie ever fucking made, Benjamin, but he’d watch most anything if She sat with him —and he really wanted to do the tree. To get a big one that made the whole house smell good, and he could cover it in stupid lights.

It should be rainbow lights. She’d fucking love rainbow lights, so Ben should get rainbow lights.

Ben should get them a lot of fucking things. He should get Ryan whatever the hell the kid needed to be a kid, and Ben hadn’t been a kid since the fucking 20s, so he’d have to ask Her and see what that shit looked like now. Probably sports gear, and a real phone that wasn’t a damn brick, and a trip to some museums because Ryan was like Her, and they both liked smart shit, and museums were full of smart shit.

She should get a trip to a museum as well, just Her and Ben. She should get twenty more houses, and a massive library that was just for Her to be a genius in, and as many breaks and vacations as Ben could drag her on. Back to their villa in Rome every summer, and up to Boston to visit Her sister, and every other beautiful place in the world.

She should get the fucking world. Ben should be able to drag the sun down from the sky for Her to hold, and break of a piece of the moon for Her to touch.

But this—a normal, easy holiday where Ben could buy find Her something as perfect as she was for a gift—was going to be damn good place to start.

End Note: It was bold of any of them to think Ben would be able to keep any sort of secret from Her.

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

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

Taglist

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

@deansbbyx

[yuurei20]

I have been stalking your tumblr for a while now bc I'm fairly new to the fandom and you've been really helpful lol (thank you!!!)

I don't know if you've answered this before but I have been wondering who was the youngest of the first years? I thought it was jack and ace, but apparently they're the oldest but aren't all of them 16 and then jack and ace's birthdays come later in year? This might be really stupid but idk lol

Hello hello! Thank you very much!! ^^ ♡ You are so kind!

And yes yes, we have received hints sometimes about which characters are older than the rest, with Vil being younger than Cater and Jade being older than Riddle.

We know that the beginning of the school year is in September, and Jamil's birthday is the first one in September, so Jamil is assumed to be the oldest of the 2nd-year students (confirmed in a tweet by Yana!).

Adding to this is the fact that Jamil's birthday was the first to be released in the original game! :> Every new birthday series starts with Jamil and ends with Riddle, as they would be the oldest- and youngest-2nd-year students, if we are following a September-to-August school year.

(Cater is the first birthday on EN! I am not sure why this was changed. The original game was launched in March of 2020, so there were no birthday banners for the first six months after the game's release until we reached Jamil's birthday of September 12th. EN was able to get birthday banners immediately, shifting the balance of when new series start and who seems to be older than who.)

If we wanted to list the human characters (and Sebek) oldest-to-youngest according to this system (minus the special case that is Leona), it might look like this!

Ace is the oldest first-year, while Deuce is the youngest.

(Ortho's actual age is difficult to place, as he was "born" pre-programmed with a memory that is older than his physical self.)

Jamil is the oldest second-year, while Riddle is the youngest.

As Riddle was born on August 24th, he is technically only a month older than Ace (who was born September 23rd).

Trey is the oldest non-fae, non-Leona third-year, while Vil is the youngest.

At 700 years old Lilia is the oldest third-year.

January 1st also does not seem to be his actual birthday: he does not remember the date of his birth and possibly never knew it in the first place, having been adopted by Malleus' grandmother.

Malleus is the second-oldest character on the main student cast at 178 years old, while Leona is 20 (due to starting NRC a year late (under duress) and then being held back an additional year for poor attendance (which was possibly on purpose, as he does not seem to want to go home. Ref: Leona's Age and NRC).)

We know that time is passing in-game as we will receive occasional cues like the school year starting in September, the interdorm Spelldrive tournament being in October, the new semester starting in January, and the VDC being held in February.

There has never been any main-story acknowledgement of the characters getting older, but we can track their ages for ourselves based on the timeline of the main story!

If the ages in character profiles represent how old they were at the beginning of the school year, then we can surmise the following (none of which has been officially acknowledged anywhere as of this post, it is all conjecture):

Book 1: Jamil turns 18, Ace turns 17 Book 2: Jack turns 17, Trey turns 19. Books 3 and 4: Jade/Floyd turn 18, Rook/Idia turn 19 Books 5 and 6: Cater turns 19, Azul turns 18

After Book 6 things get a little vague!

Lilia says that Book 7 is "half a year" since school began, and it is presumably before May's Spelldrive tournament, so possibly March? Whether or not Sebek, Vil and Ruggie have had their birthdays yet might be unconfirmed!

To answer the initial question: it is not officially stated outright in the game that "Deuce is the youngest first-year," but there are fans who believe that this is what is being implied by the school year starting in September!

This is where "Ace and Jack are the oldest first years even though their birthdays are later in the year" comes from ^^ The school year does not start until autumn, meaning that Sebek, Epel and Deuce all have birthdays in the second semester, whereas Ace and Jack's birthdays are first semester, thus making them older than the other three ^^

[gayofthefae]

I've been seeing people lately say Will and El being close is fanon but it's literally not. They were each other's only friends in Cali because they wouldn't have seen Jonathan much in school and had no other friends. They do what writers do, which is small but specific lines when you have minimal screentime to establish this. That's what 4x01 was FOR.

But yes. They aren't each other's #1 in the world, I'd say. Because they're close like SIBLINGS. They fight, in a petty, stupid way. They cheer each other on but they make little comments like "Will has not". But they also fix things together and go to work parties for their mom and eat breakfast and dinner together every morning.

Minimal screentime is not the same as fanon. They're close like siblings.

They lived together every day with no other friends for minimum six months. To claim anything else came from that is both illogical and a disregard of season 4 episode 1, which has their Cali screentime completely dedicated to establishing them with each other. I thought we were all for every inclusion being purposeful and meaning something?

I honestly think people just aren't used to getting wishes granted but I must comfort you, this is extrapolation, which is very different from fanon, though understandably confusable. We drew from the text what they gave us, we didn't headcanon where there were gaps.

All they do the entire opening episode of season 4 is love each other.

[missmonsters2]

Mirror, Mirror | Six: Epilogue

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

PART FIVE

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You never really thought about Wanda other than the fact that she's your best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. It just wasn't in the realm of possibilites, so you never let yourself develop feelings. At least until someone points out that you have a very specific type when it comes to dating, so maybe it is all subconscious? Reader's POV

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: Mini Series is completed! Thank you so much for tagging along with me <3 Explicit version available in a week.

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~3.1k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You rarely think about sentences that could change your life.

There are too many instances that could change your life; therefore, it would be moot to think about.

You have a terminal illness. 

You've won 69 million dollars.

Someone you love has horrifically died—no, there were no remains.

It's all too overwhelming to think about; therefore, you don't. Yet, somehow, if you ever did think about life-changing sentences, you didn't think it could ever be, "Hey, have you noticed how you seem to exclusively date girls who look like Wanda?"

And it was like the ground crumbled underneath you. It was such a sickening realization—not that Wanda was in any way sickening—it was the fact that you might just be subconsciously a pervert. 

The more you thought about the words, the more horrifying it became. Every one-night stand, every situationship, every girlfriend—god, they all looked like Wanda. 

You're too scared to think about it deeper in fear of what it would reveal subconsciously every time you kissed or fucked a girl. Were you thinking of Wanda? God, you just couldn't think about it.

This was all Bucky's fault. You wished you had never gone out onto that balcony that night. 

3 months prior to that night at the bar with Wanda & Steve

The cool air felt better, and the breeze settled on the back of your neck. There was definitely too much wine going around, and you only managed to escape as Tony brought out the hard liquor. 

The crowd dispersed after several shots you didn't partake in. You stared into the distance, thinking idly how Tony had way too much money. Old money was ridiculous. Why does someone need a garden fountain as big as a pool?

Movement caught the corner of your eye, and you saw Wanda and Vision walking through the dimly lit garden. You smiled fondly at your best friend as she laughed at whatever charming thing Vision had managed to say. 

Vision was...just okay, in your opinion. You thought he was too nonchalant about Wanda, and that was why they were so on and off rather than consistently being together. Wanda deserved someone who loved her fiercely, and you couldn't imagine Vision always putting Wanda first. 

You watched with slight melancholy when Wanda linked her arms through his as they sat on the ledge of the garden fountain. You wished you had also brought someone along for this party. 

"Hey, thought I saw you sneak out here."

You turned around and saw Bucky holding a glass of beer. You smirked at him with mirth. "You know what I must do when Tony starts bringing out the grey goose."

Bucky shuddered, clearly having been roped into a few shots. He came and stood next to you, catching the scene you were staring at. "Guess they're back on then?"

You shrugged. "Guess so. We'll see how long it lasts. I'm betting 3 months."

"Be realistic. It'll be 2 and a half months," Bucky snorted. 

"Ye of little faith," you teased and then sighed. "I wish I also brought someone along. I should've brought that girl I met at my photoshoot."

"The brunette with green eyes?" Bucky asked, and you nod. "You know what I've noticed?"

"Hm?" you hummed in response to Bucky's casual tone. 

"You seem to have a very specific type when it comes to dating," Bucky mused. "They're always brunette—save those two girls from university—and they always have green eyes." 

You furrow your brows in serious thought. "I suppose so."

"Yeah," Bucky nodded, his tone still casual. "They always remind me of Wanda, especially from the back. I always have to make sure I'm careful not to mix up your date with Wanda." 

Bucky ended it with a chuckle, stating he was getting cold before he left without another world, leaving you alone outside.

The connect dots snapped into place almost instantly, horrifying you as you continued to stare at Wanda from above. 

Oh, fuck. 

Maybe it was a good thing you didn't bring anyone tonight. You're not sure how you'd be able to take someone home into your bed with the daunting realization you go after girls who look like your best friend...because you actually want your best friend. 

The three months since that discovery had nearly driven you to insanity. Since you refused to talk to anyone about it, most of your thought process was, " Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no."

But in the end, you resolved that it couldn't happen. Wanda would never reciprocate your feelings in a million years, especially since she had Vision. Wanda occasionally even talked about the possibility of marrying him down the road. 

It wasn't happening. It was never going to happen. 

Wanda was more important to you than anyone in the whole entire world. You would never allow anything to risk the friendship—even your feelings. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You felt like a sick sexual deviant. 

Despite your resolve to bury your feelings and continue on as normal, it was getting increasingly weird to continue to see girls who looked like Wanda. Yet, you couldn't stop. It wasn't doing it for you otherwise. 

But now, every time you kissed a girl, all you could see was Wanda in her. Sex was beginning to become a guilty pleasure for all the wrong reasons. 

When you met Raye, it felt like another sinful thing to lust after, knowing how much she physically reminded you of Wanda. But you could see a big personality difference in the short time you spent chatting with Raye. 

Wanda was the type you spoiled, indulging in her strange, wacky ideas. She could be very emotional, swinging from one side of the spectrum to another. She had such a big heart, willing to love, but also held grudges and was wicked if crossed. Wanda was a brat in all the loving ways you could mean. 

Raye could be best described as emotionally consistent. On the surface, she portrayed a wicked sense of humor and was fun to be around, but she was much more guarded than Wanda. She was very independent, not liking anything that might even intrude on her freedom. Raye kept her true feelings close to herself and seemed to be teasing you to come find out. 

It was different. You didn't mind, maybe liking it even (purely in the sense it was the opposite of Wanda, and you couldn't afford to keep lusting after your best friend in all possible ways).

Even so, your mind was distracted on the first date.

"Have you ever done a boudoir photoshoot?" Raye asks, her tone low and seductive.

"Can't say that I have," you smile, trying to remind yourself to be present during the date. It's been long since you've properly wined and dined someone, and Wanda kept entering your thoughts. 

"Well, there's a first for everything and you might even have a willing model," Raye bit her bottom lip suggestively, her index finger stroking the back of your hand. 

And while the southern twang does stir something in you, and you feel your stomach tingling, you're very aware that it's because Raye physically reminds you of Wanda. So, your mind traitorously imagines Wanda biting her lip and saying seductive things to you. 

"THEY WOULD NEVER—"

You whip your head around, swearing you heard Wanda. When there was no sign of her, you furrowed your brows in confusion, turning back to Raye.

Was this a sign of insanity?

You resolve right then and there to focus on the lovely brunette before you and enjoy the date. It was easy enough if you relaxed and earnestly asked Raye questions about herself. 

It was easy enough to hold Raye's hand and swing it back and forth if you just thought about how warm they were. 

It was enough to giggle when Raye leaned in closer to whisper something silly or naughty in your ear if you just thought about how her breath felt on the shell of your ear.

Suddenly, the car next to you went off, the alarm beeping loudly enough to make you and Raye jump in surprise. You turned around and noticed the couple behind you were gone. You thought they looked slightly familiar, but it was too difficult to determine when they were so far away in the dark under passing streetlights. 

Ultimately, you walk Raye up her steps, unsure what you want your next move to be. Everything feels strange since the revelation. You feel guilty for your lust, but specifically what causes it. 

But when Raye pulled you in for a hot, searing kiss, you decided to just go with the flow...which also ended up being nothing as she got a call from her sister while clothes were discarded. 

The call was only bordering on 40 seconds, but you decided your momentum was lost, and you needed that momentum to have sex with someone else while you tried (unsuccessfully) to not think about Wanda. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Fuck. Darcy.

Those were the only words that could come to your mind after Wanda texted her vague answer about whether or not she was returning home tonight. 

You sighed as you scrolled through the videos and photos, trying to get a headstart on putting together the video for Tony and Pepper. As you began opening up files, many were corrupted by the inability to open or glitchy images. 

With another sigh, your chair scraped against the floor as you shifted back, pulling out your phone and shooting a quick text to the videographer asking if you could meet up tomorrow to get the SD card for the originals. You got a prompt reply with a thumbs-up emoji with a time and place. 

You thought you might've just heard something shuffle in your room, but you forget about it when it's quiet again.

In the end, you spent another 45 minutes scrolling through some other photos that weren't corrupted, catching Wanda in the background and staring with a lingering thought about how absolutely pretty she was.

A part of you was in disbelief that Wanda was interested in women. You had so many questions that still lingered, but you didn't want to push Wanda or make it seem like you were interrogating her, and she needed to prove it.  

Still, you wondered what exactly made Wanda come to terms with the fact that she liked women.

Specifically, why couldn't you be the reason she was interested in women? You shoved those forbidden feelings down, beating them back into its box to put away. 

It didn't matter. 

It shouldn't matter.

You're with Raye, and Wanda may be with Darcy. Or some other girl, or maybe even with a guy again.

It's just not going to be you. 

And that's okay, you tell yourself. You can love someone without having to pursue anything. You just want to be there for Wanda. 

Of course, all of this changed the moment you watched a slanted confession video from an unaware Wanda while your roommate was out for lunch with a client.

Shock is the only thing that registers upon the video finishing. Were you hallucinating again? Was this like the first date with Raye where you kept thinking you could hear or see glimpses of Wanda?

But you played the video over and over, blinking every time it was finished.

Then a burst of strange laughter bubbled from your mouth, and then horror dawned on you that, 'oh, fuck. She actually feels the same way.'

It was unclear whether or not Wanda was trying to let her feelings be known or if she was also facing the same issue as you, where she was suppressing them. Either way, Wanda would unlikely be brave enough to say anything soon. 

You spent the week humming and hawing about what pursuing a relationship with your best friend would mean. What would the consequences be if things didn't work out? What would the consequences be if you declined to pursue anything more despite if Wanda confessed? What would the consequences be to watch Wanda move on and love someone else?

Your stomach dropped. 

You needed to break up with Raye. 

Your stomach dropped. 

You wait 3 more days before confronting Wanda since she's clearly a chicken.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"You knew you had feelings for me for at least 3 months?" Wanda screeches. "And you said nothing?!"

"Okay, relax, you banshee," you wince at the sound. "How is that the only thing you hung onto out of everything I just told you?"

"But...but!" Wanda narrows her eyes on you. "It was getting serious with Raye!"

"Serious?" you raise your brow at Wanda. "What gave you the idea it was getting serious? We were dating but I saw her maybe a few days out of a month with how much she flies out for work."

"So, it wasn't getting serious at all?" Wanda frowns.

"Well," you purse your lips. "Maybe for Raye. She was considering transferring to another department so she wouldn't have to fly out anymore."

Wanda's mouth hangs open, her face pale with the worst thoughts of what might've been if they never confessed their feelings.

"Which," you cut in like you're able to read her mind, "obviously, I told her to not do as I wanted to end things with her."

"How did she take it?" Wanda asks curiously.

You look uncomfortable as you shift in bed, but Wanda waits patiently. "I think she just emotionally shut down. There were no tears, no screaming, or any accusations about why I was ending things. She just looked impassive as she accepted it and asked me to leave."

"Oh," Wanda bit her bottom lip. She feels bad in a way, but not bad enough to regret making you hers. "I'm sorry, bug."

You sigh as you reach over and pull Wanda close, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. The blanket shifts down, exposing Wanda's neck and collarbone where you had unabashedly marked up.

"Now, are you done with the questions, or can we resume where we left off?" You ask mischievously, pressing languid kisses against the side of her neck. 

Wanda closes her eyes with a soft hum, pressing her body closer to yours until you shift and move over Wanda. 

"I notice that you didn't mention anything about Darcy."

"Mention what exactly?" You say between kisses, stroking Wanda's hip. "That I was insanely jealous and wished her ill? Although, now that I know it was a fake date and neither of you had interest in each other, she seems nice."

Wanda laughs. "Even after she hacked your laptop?"

"With your help, might I remind you," you pull up and pointedly look at her. "But if she never corrupted those wedding files, I would've never got the original SD card and found out about your feelings."

"Very true," Wanda muses as she throws her head around your neck and pulls you close. She pecks your lips charmingly. "We should get her a nice bottle of wine."

"What about Steve and Bucky."

Wanda scoffs. "They're meddling little school girls who are probably kicking their feet and giggling."

You can't help but laugh before you dive in for another kiss, eager but slow. Oh, man. You were going to love Wanda for the rest of your life.

After a moment, Wanda sighs. "Okay, fine. We can give our McDonald's coupons to Steve and Bucky."

You laugh again. "Alright, brat."

"Okay, stinky."

"Chicken."

"Stupid."

"Witch."

"Here we go again with that," Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile. "I'll have you know that if I were a witch, I'd be the most powerful and best witch ever."

"I bet you would," you agree very readily. "Instead of cursing people to death, you'd be saving their lives...or causing mass chaos. Huh, I guess that's not so different from now." 

Wanda scoffs indignantly before she starts tickling you. You laugh, trying to jerk away, but Wanda is persistent in keeping you in place. 

"Mercy!" You laugh as you roll to the side. 

"Take that back! I do not cause chaos!"

"I take it back! You're clearly an A-List superhero!"

Wanda continues to tickle you anyway. "Say you love me!"

"I love you!"

Only then does Wanda stop, grinning wickedly as she presses a chaste kiss to your lips, and you're breathing heavily.

You want to call her a menace, but you're afraid that will only result in another tickle fight. 

Wanda smiles warmly.

"I love you, too."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"See, I told you Wanda would be the one to confess!" Steve smirks.

"That's because you're a little cheater who went and nudged Wanda along," Bucky rolls his eyes with a smile.

"Oh, yeah, like you're the perfect picture of fair," Steve narrows his eyes. "Don't think I don't know that you went to Bug first. I had to step in and nudge Wanda to make the odds even."

"Was it really Wanda who confessed when it was Bug who technically discovered her secret."

Steve seems to think about it before he slumps into the sofa, "I feel like that's a gray area." Then, Steve frowns. "Ugh, but then that means neither of us wins the bet."

"We can just call it even," Bucky shrugs, laying his head on Steve's shoulder.

"Oh, no," Steve shakes his head. "I won't let you wriggle out of our bet. We will watch all the Lord of the Rings movies if you lose."

Bucky groans loudly. "But there's so many and they're so long."

"You really think I want to watch the Star Wars movies?" Steve rolls his eyes.

"They're a classic!" Bucky argues.

"So is Lord of the Rings."

Bucky huffs but concedes. "Fine," he wrinkles his nose. "Should we bet on something else?"

"No, I like the thrill of two people getting together, even if it takes time. Besides, we have the time since we have to finish a whole bunch of shows," Steve says.

"Hm, which ones of our friends are due to get together?" Bucky muses.

"We could try Nat and Maria," Steve suggests.

"No, too hard since Maria doesn't live here," Bucky shakes his head and then offers, "Yelena and Kate?"

"I think they're actually already together," Steve furrows his brows. "But if they're not, I'm too scared of Yelena to get involved in her affairs."

"I think that's all our friends who are technically single with a viable date option," Bucky sighs.

Silence falls between them before Steve suggests, "Want to bet when Tony and Pepper will announce they're pregnant?"

They stare at each other for a moment before they yell out their guess at the same time. 

"6 months!"

"6 months!"

The silliness of it all leaves Steve and Bucky giggling. 

[xmads-omensx]

Dating Him

Masterlist

Content warnings: none

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

When you both first started dating, Noah was very shy in comparison to you. He liked the relationship, of course, but wasn't exactly used to it.

On your first date, he was very nervous and somewhat excited, so his lisp was more prominent, but you didn't pay any attention to it.

After your fifth date, which had taken place at his house so he could show you that Naruto really is a cinematic masterpiece, the words "can I be your boyfriend?" fell out of his mouth before he could do anything to stop them.

Ever since day one, your relationship has been perfect. There were small arguments here and there, but never a fight. Any issue was cleared up relatively quickly.

He notices everything about you. Were those new jeans? Had you gotten a haircut? Did you dye it? Every single detail he noticed and made sure to compliment.

He had a list on his notes app of all your favourite things, your go-to orders at every coffee shop and restaurant the two of you frequented, your size in every item of clothing imaginable, your favourite bands, your favourite songs, your favourite foods, your favourite season, he knew every. single. thing. on that list.

He's a quiet guy, so if the two of you went to someone's party or a social event, he would let you do all the talking and stay practically glued to your side as you provided him with a sense of comfort.

You would always hear any new music he was working on first, no matter what stage it was at, or what it was for, you would always hear first. The only time you wouldn't would be if he was writing a song about you, and he wanted it to be done before he showed you. Those songs never got released, but they existed just for the two of you.

He isn't the best at sharing all of his feeling with you, but he's very good at making you feel loved, be it through small touches as he passes you, a kiss on the top of your head when your cooking, or playing with your fingers as you watch TV.

Since he's on tour a lot of the time, and in the studio when he's home, he loves to plan 'date nights' that would range from a movie night in with a takeaway, a dinner at a nice restaurant or wondering around the city aimlessly looking for something cool or interesting.

You spend a lot of nights together watching ridiculously niche animes that neither of you have heard of before when you can't find anything to watch, which is obviously very hit or miss with if they're any good or not.

When you aren't together in the mornings, he will send you a good morning text along with his plans for the day, and if you aren't together at night, he will call you to say goodnight, and text you after the call is over just to make sure he got his point of you having sweet dreams across.

After you have been together for six or so months, he starts to get really goofy. I mean just doing dumbass shit for no reason at all. He will start making stupid jokes, telling you absolutely awful pickup lines, and just being a general menace to your peace of mind.

His favourite thing to do after a long day at the studio is to lay on top of you, with his head buried in your neck, and let out an impressively big sigh before going to sleep. His soft snores will eventually send you off to sleep as well.

If you work from home, he made a small space in the home studio for you, so that if both of you have a lot of work to do, you can still be together. You just put your headphones on while you work on your computer.

First and foremost, he is a gentleman and would do literally anything for you. He will open doors for you, pull chairs out for you, help you do up zippers that you can't reach, help you put your jackets on, and help you reach things that are too far out of your own reach.

[ammarettu]

Writing prompt: Curse breaking, true hate's kiss.

It's been two weeks since that horrible wretch of a mage falsely seduced him. Wandering hands on his chest and muttered words of adoration had distracted him from that distinct crackle and the faint scent of ozone.

He should have known better.

Should have seen it, or sensed it. He knows mages. Knows what they're capable of, their temperaments and egos. It wasn't until she was uttering about how he needed to learn to be humble, not to try and worm his way into everyone's good graces. Had to accept that people - no one - wanted him, that he noticed what she was.

So, instead of getting laid, he'd gotten cursed.

At least, mercifully, she'd told him the means to breaking the curse, which left him unable to speak, sing, or write.

True hate's kiss. Kiss someone who well and truely hates him. Perfect.

Which is how he now finds himself trudging through the overgrown wilderness, chasing rumors of a white-haired Witcher despite promising on the top of that fucking mountain that he would never bother him again.

He's still angry. Still hurt. His heart aches with every step closer, feels flayed open like bass being salted for dinner - and now he's hungry on top of it all!

He knows Geralt is going to be angry, annoyed at having to see him again even after the six months that have passed, but it can't be helped.

Jaskier's boots are caked in mud, the soles worn thin - he's pretty sure he's more blister than man at this point, despite his feet being used to years of walking, he's spent quite a bit of time in one place recently. He's gone soft rather quickly, it seems. (That tends to happen when you drink yourself stupid almost every night.)

He's close now.

He can see the smoke of a fire rising from above the trees, just past a village that told him the White Wolf had been staying nearby for the past several weeks, slaying mosntsers, refusing coin and only coming into town to sell the parts.

The woods here are dense, he'd curse at the branches smacking him in the face if he could, nature can eat his entire ass, thank you very much.

So maybe he's in a bit of a bad mood. Usually, the dense foliage, verdant and towering, letting through faint rays of sun that glitter on the moss and stones of the ground would inspire him to compose. Today he can only feel anger, because if he lets himself feel anything else he'll remember how heartbroken he is and start weeping like a small child.

So he's angry.

Angry at the branches. Angry at the Witcher.

Geralt hears him approach, of course he does. He's a Witcher, and an extra special one at that. The thought irks something in him that wants to taunt, "Ooh, so special, such a special boy," but again, that would be childish. And he can't talk.

When he reaches the clearing Geralt is there, sitting on a log facing away from him, hunched over as though trying to make himself smaller. Jaskier is half expecting him to growl or threaten him. Instead, he gets a quiet, "Bard?"

It's a question, and Geralt doesn't even bother to look at him or use his name. It makes Jaskier seethe.

He rounds the log the Witcher is sitting on, stands glaring down at him with his hands on his hips. Geralt keeps his eyes locked on the fire. Doesn't lift his gaze. It would hurt, would break his heart if there was anything of it left to break. He hates that Geralt hates him so much he can't even bear to look at him, or say his name.

He might as well get this over with. Might as well bite the rapier, so to speak, and get out of Geralt's hair before the Witcher decides to tear him a new set of holes.

He steps forward, into Geralt's space, winds his fingers into that glorious white hair, which is looking and feeling worse for wear - all of Geralt is, really. He's dirty, unshaven, looks ragged and worn and disheveled. He ignores that observation and yanks back on his silver locks until his head is tilted the way he wants it to be, leans down, and kisses him.

Jaskier normally isn't the type to kiss people who don't want it. Consent is important and he'll cut the balls off anyone who says otherwise, but this is important. Geralt won't forgive him, but he already hates the bard so there really isn't much lost there.

Then, hands are on his waist tugging him closer and a tongue is in his mouth and - Geralt is kissing him back. He's confused as all hell but not complaining, he's not an idiot!

Well, not that kind anyways.

When they break apart Geralt is looking up at him with furrowed brows, confused. Not angry.

"Mm, not... that I don't... why?"

Jaskier rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to speak - nothing. No sound. All that effort wasted. Geralt doesn't even hate him enough to break a fucking curse.

"Jaskier?"

He shakes his head, fighting back tears, unsure how to explain to a man who hates him but doesn't hate him enough why he's just assaulted him.

Jaskier flops onto the log next to Geralt and gestures vaguely, makes a talking motion with his hand, then an X with his arms.

"Can't talk?"

At least Geralt is smart, most Witchers are, in Jaskier's experience. They solve murders, chase monsters. They have to be good at reading between the lines, but only if those lines aren't emotions.

"Mm," Geralt looks him over, pulls his pendant from his neck and holds it up to Jaskier, "Magic. Curse?" Jaskier nods. Geralt swallows, "The cure is... a kiss?"

Jaskier nods again, sighs.

"From... what? Usually it's true love." He sounds oddly hopeful. Fidgets in a way that Jaskier has never seen. Jaskier shakes his head, ponders how to explain this absolute clusterfuck.

If Geralt didn't work there's only one other option anyways.

Valdo Marx.

((Now with part 2 ))

[darlingchronicles]

JJ AND THE GOLDEN GIRL HEADCANONS II

pairing: jj x fem!goodgirl!reader

word count:

first part here & based on this and this post that i made. enjoy !!!

What is their favorite photo of with other?

✔︎ jj's favorite photo of him and his golden girl is when they were asleep on the hammock and sarah snapped a shot. she was laid on his chest and her head was buried into the side of his neck with her arms around him and jj head was resting against hers and his arms fully engulfed her waist. a small blanket was laid over them and the sun set in the background. as mentioned in my previous headcanons, he keeps it in his wallet at all times.

ఌ golden girl has so many photos that she loves of jj and her, but one takes the cake. it's one where she and jj had just gotten out of the ocean and dressed in their regular clothes, but their hair is still wet, and they were sitting next to a fire the pogues made on the far side of the beach. her head was on his shoulder, but tilted up so she was looking at him and he was looking down into her eyes. it was night, so the light from the fire made them seem like they were glowing. sarah also took the photo and golden girl framed it and put it on the wall near her bed.

What special thing do they carry with them at all times?

✔︎ well of course jj keeps the photo in his wallet, but he also has a couple of bracelets from her. however, one of his prized possessions is the gum hearts. as stated in the previous headcanon, golden girl is very crafty with her gifts and gave jj a heart made out of gum wrapper. she actually wrote in it. a little note that only said, "hey there criminal". it was so lame that he laughed when he opened it one day and saw it. it's a little of an inside joke because jj's name is jesse-james maybank, after the criminal. it was so stupid, but it makes him laugh.

ఌ for golden girl, she usually has a few things on her, but she adores her bracelet that jj made. he made it by hand (he never told her this, but she could tell by the messy threading and specific mini charms) and personalized it. he gave it to her about a year after they began dating (only a few days before he told her he loved her). he just handed it to her randomly when she was staying over at the chateau. he was so nervous but she loved. she always wears it and only takes it off if she's going into deep water because she doesn't want to risk losing it. one of the charms is a surf board, another is of half a sun and one of her favorites is of flounder from the little mermaid (as mentioned before in part 1, she's scared of sharks). she loves that thing and you can always see her wearing it no matter what.

How does the cut and figure eight react to them?

✔︎ first off, the cut is probably the most surprised at the news of them. it only appears maybe like five or six months into the relationship. they kept it hush hush for a while and eventually didn't care who saw them. multiple pogues saw them going for ice cream together. heyward saw them sailing on "the pogue" a few times, alone. others saw them at the kegger, sitting close to one another and jj's arm was around her. the cherry on top was when they came out of the ocean from surfing and he gave her a kiss (ON THE MOUTH???) and the news spread like wildfire. everyone had questions about how it began and shit like that. but it was the excited type of questions. separately, they ask the couple if they're together. jj's only response is "yeah, for a time now" in a lighthearted tone and golden girl's response is "yes, we are!" in a very cheerful tone. honestly the cut was so surprised, but they're honestly for it. with their responses, it seemed like the two were very much falling in love and by the way jj looked at her, the man was a goner and based on her smiles, she was half-way in love already. (everyone knew they were endgame at this point and any other secret suitors resigned) there were some skeptics and some who didn't believe they'd last long, but when they heard how long they've already been together, it crushed all of it. they didn't expect it, but they're kind of the cut's IT couple now. famous, i'm telling you.

ఌ the more judgmental pack is the kooks, aka figure eight. golden girl is known there because she works at the club restaurant as the hostess and she has a pretty good rep there too. heck she has a great rep everywhere. she is the golden girl after all. smiley and shiny. a bright future. the sun personified. (she'd argue but go on) so when they find out that she is dating jj maybank, the bus boy and absolute troublemaker of the cut, they're all fla-ber-gas-ted. like they all blink in confusion. and the only way the kooks found out was about a month after the cut found out and jj and golden girl went to a kegger together and ended kissing near the bonfire. kooks saw, told their friends, who told their friends, who told their parents and BAM! wildfire. some kids were actually really confused and some even tried to "warn" her about getting with a kid "like maybank". she had half a mind to flip them off but all she said was "i think i'm smart enough to make my own choices. thank you" and continued on with her day. she saw the judgment whenever they passed by each other at work and she knew it'd be a while before things went back to how they were at the restaurant. jj had the sharp end of the sword as he physically saw and heard the judgment from the kooks as if they knew her more than him. some of it kind of got to him, but he eventually over heard golden girl telling off some kook boys to leave her and jj the hell alone before she taught them how to shut their mouths. politely. but yeah that's what she said. eventually everything calm down, but figure eight isn't really their biggest fans.

How did their friends react to them?

✔︎ the pogues were really surprised that jj was capable of capturing her heart, but not surprised that they got together. she'd been part of the pogues for a while before they got together. even then, they saw the goo goo eyes and smiles and secret touches here and there and had bets placed. sarah won nearly every side bet, but pope won the last one about who kissed who first. they're for it honestly. they know that she makes jj really happy and he's more devoted to her than any other girl he's ever taken a look at and they know that golden girl would never hurt jj and that she's been in love with him for a while and they know they are made for each other. so very supportive.

ఌ golden girl is actually friends with a few kooks and they were very...ehhhh on the matter. they nearly choked when they heard and ask if the rumors were true. she said yes and they just shared a look. they warned her (like every damn kook on the island she was associated with one way or another) about how jj was and how they heard he was and just told her to rethink it or be careful. they continued on with that train for a while before she told them shut up or else she'd stop hanging out with them. (she's not friends with most of them anymore). however her pogue friends were very happy for her and admire them anytime they're around. again, bets were made and paid.

When did they know they were in it for the long run?

✔︎ the idea actually popped up in jj's head a few times, but he always pushed it aside or ignored it. i mean...being for someone for the long run? like marriage? and kids and a house. i mean, he's too young to even think about that right? i mean it's not possible to know right away? is it? he'd never thought about getting married beforehand. marriage was a wreck for anyone who got involved and it was like tying a noose around your finger, right? that's what he thought. and then she'd smile at him like he was her world and he made it spin on its axis. then she'd give him a little gift he never asked for and she wouldn't even ask for a thank you. then she'd give him a lecture about being reckless, but eyes just tell him that she's terrified something would happen to him. the one time he actually let the thought in was around their first year anniversary when they went surfing and ended up on the beach late at night with no one around. she was pressed up against his chest, sleeping with a few blankets over them and a smile fire burning to keep them warm. he glances down at her and there's something that glows within him that just tells him. for the first time, he thinks about marriage and being with her when he's old and gray and...it doesn't scare him for the first time. that thought alone leads to the first "i love you" only weeks later.

ఌ she's thought about it before. i mean, golden girl has watched rom-coms before, so she has thought about marriage. she'd hope to break the whole generation curse one day and be with someone she loves rather than for money or an accidental pregnancy. it's a wish in her. she does have the desire to marry one day, but she wants it to be for the right reasons. she's more into long-term relationships rather than hook ups or "situationships" because of the fear she'll be used like the women in her family before. so when jj came around and she actually let him in, she knows there's something special there. she thought about it here and there, but she always told herself that when she knows, she'll know. and that moment came around when she and jj were hanging out in her room about nine months in. her parents were out and jj snuck in and stayed for the night. they had played a game of uno, which she beat him at 3 times in a row, and received the reward of him telling her she was the best and amazing at everything (all in a playful manner, she demanded it) and when he won, he claps his hands in a taunting manner and went straight for her. she fell back and he caught her in his arms and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips and she swore she felt her heart skip two beats. when he pulled away, simply to press his lips to her cheek and request a game of cards to beat her at (still riding on the win) when she realize that she could do that forever. play games with cards and monopoly boards and win rewards of kisses and praise for the rest of her life. and the way jj smiled at her when she said she'd kick his ass at anything else, she knew it had to be him. (she knew he felt the same way before he knew).

What is their go-to and favorite date plans?

✔︎ jj is a simple guy. he doesn't need much. if he really wanted to have some alone time and take her out, he'd take her out for a drive to the beach, walk around, talking about everything and nothing before going to get an ice cream and ending the night watching the sunset. his favorite date plans is going surfing or staying on the pogue for the entire day and just be in each other's company.

ఌ golden girl understands that she and jj are busy people. busy bees. if they both had some time in-between their breaks or even after work for some time (or any time for that matter) her go-to suggestion is to sit outside or inside (probably the beach) and play a game of cards with two soda cans sitting next to them. it's quick and easy and they always have a good time. because of this, she and jj always have a stack of cards with them. her favorite date, however, is whenever the carnival or a festival comes near the mainland and they go together and just have fun. close second and most common one is introducing jj to all her favorite movies, musicals and series. (she got him hooked on money heist and gilmore girls, but he'll only watch it with her).

What is the favorite physical and non-physical trait of theirs they love?

✔︎ for jj, his favorite physical trait of hers is her eyes. she's so expressive in her eyes and if he needed to know anything, he'd just have to look into her eyes. she can say one thing, but the eyes tell another. he now believes in the whole "eyes are the windows to the soul" saying. (to be not so wholesome because it's jj duh, he really likes her chest. what can i say? he just likes the girls). his favorite non-physical trait is her ability to try and see the good in everything and everyone: aka her compassion. he knows it's hard for her to do that sometimes and he can see how she wants to be negative, but she tries her hardest to bring joy to others and to herself. she wants everyone to be happy because that's what she wants for herself (and sometimes she doesn't get it). jj doesn't really accept the fact that he's a cause of her happiness and joy, but he feels happy knowing he is.

ఌ for the golden girl, her favorite physical trait of jj is his hair. especially his wet hair when he just exited the sea and he shake it a bit out get the water out. *chef kiss* she also likes to play with it and toy around with it when she's watching tv or when jj is a little stressed, she likes to pass her hand over his hair. it works actually. (to not be so wholesome, his arms and back just make her drool and make her eyes roll back into her head, but you didn't hear it from me) her favorite non-physical trait is his loyalty. i've touched upon this in my last headcanon i think??? but he is loyal to the end. like it's actually this man's fatal flaw. she could be wrong or right, but jj is by her side. honestly her hype man. she's really happy to know he'd go search the entire world just for her.

What specific physical touch do they secretly like?

✔︎ jj is a sucker for back scratches. it's just a thing he found out he liked. he and golden girl were laying in jj's bed at the chateau, mumbling as the clock began to tick closer and closer to two in the morning. he was laying on top of her, head nuzzles into her neck. jj sleeps on his stomach, so golden girl had to learn how to not get crushed by him as she realized it was non-negotiable for him. she was mumbling something about school and jj was just responding with hums as sleep began to overtake him and she began to drag her nails up and down his bare back softly. jj is actually so embarrassed by how obsessed he became with it. if she stops, he'll whine until she gives in. if she begins, she cannot stop until she falls asleep or jj falls asleep or they have to get up. jj could go hours with her just scratching his back. he doesn't care how hard or soft she does it, just likes it (he does have a little fantasy about it, but it's only a fantasy for now lol)

ఌ golden girl really likes it when jj just holds her, whether in her room, his room at the chateau, or the hammock, she likes to curl up in jj's arms and have him hold her. sometimes she needs it because of all the stress on her. she specifically likes it when he talks to her, regardless if she'll respond. it's in his softest voice (he would never admit it to anyone and if she ever mentioned it someone (she hasn't), he'd deny it because why would she try and out him like that????) and he'll just mumble sweet nothings in her ears and sometimes she'll fall asleep because of it. she likes it a lot. (and just to out her a little, she's actually kind of interested in jj's soft voice in other types of scenarios if you catch my drift) but yeah she loves jj holding her and paying attention to her and only her in those moments?

How needy are they?

✔︎ if this man ever says he's not needy, he's lyingggggg. jj is an attention seeker at heart and he wants her attention at nearly all times. he just loves the attention and will do the most stupid stuff to gain it. once he waved her over just to show her he could do a handstand. she eventually caught the pattern of this, but she still goes over to him whenever he calls her. she likes that she's wanted by him. she thought he'd get use to it, but nope. this man is still as obsessed with her attention as always. as for physically, this man got a taste of physical touch after being touch starved (romantically at least) and he's never gone back. a hand on her back, hand in hand, hugging her, arm around her shoulder, etc, etc. he's always touching her if he can.

ఌ she admits it. she likes his attention. A LOT. she wouldn't say she's needy, but she really likes it when he's paying attention to her and only her. golden girl captures his attention in different ways. she'll fiddle with his hands or his hair or just call him over so he can sit next to her. she's heading towards jj-level obsessed at some points. physically however? she's right there with jj. hand on his knee, rubbing his back with her hand as he talks, fiddling with whatever jewelry he has on, stroking his jaw with her thumb, hugging him, etc. neither of them really care what everyone else thinks, but they never go beyond this to make sure others are comfortable in some aspects. since they're not there yet, this is as far as it goes for now (john b and sarah on the other hand are...well...they're not very quiet....lol)

Favorite nicknames?

✔︎ little lady, princess, flounder, sunflower, goody-two shoes, wormy, grumpelstiltskin

ఌ blondie, j, sunshine, pretty boy, criminal, giraffe, surfer boy, sleeping beauty

thedarlinglore: i love jj and golden girl so much. like it's actually an obsession. and there is more come!!! a fic is coming soon, but hey, we have more headcanons. i am thinking about blackcat!reader, but we'll see. requests are also open i hope you enjoyed and see you in the next one. love you, my darlings <3

➣ my last "jj" work | "oh schroeder" ➣ more concepts | jj maybank

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Okay HEAR ME OUT--

In theory, if you imagine the gang as family members, it would work something like:

POMNI: gremlin sister/cousin, she's the one who starts all the fights and arguments;

JAX: that little known to whom relative who comes to visit once a year just to teach the kids swear ditties and tell an outrageous story at the communal family table. Your mom thinks he's the one "there's no harm in family."

KINGR: a venerable elderly uncle/grandfather, he may be a third cousin twice removed, but he is adored and respected by everyone, even if he is a little out of sorts at times from old age;

ZOOBLE: a strange relative who appears only once in your life and leaves behind incomprehensible sad memories;

RAGATHA: the universally adored auntie/grandmother/mom. The most understanding and gentle person who supports you in every situation. Probably amasses a beautiful collection of mugs and crocheted doilies;

CAINE: a kind uncle who appears in your life more often than any other relative, but looks sad at times, and because of the damage to your health from tobacco, your mom kicked him out of the house for six months at least;

GANGLE: the oldest of all the cousins/youngest auntie, tall as a bobblehead, emotional as a child. Loves to draw with you and mold plasticine, but don't need to upset her, or..;

BUBBLE: the fucking OUPPY

Hmmm, I'd say it's something more like:

Pomni - The seemingly careless and potty-mouthed relative who gets easily ticked off at the dinner table, but would actually sit down with you, have a genuine talk, and give you a pat on the back when you're feeling down in the dumps

Caine - The one comedic and caring relative who seems goofy ahh, but you when see him smoke outside and sigh so sadly to himself, you realize he's hiding so much baggage that you could never fathom, or will never know because he wants to keep it from everyone

Ragatha - The wine mom of the group, she's good at hiding it but she's actually a couple of threads away from snapping and thus needs some scheduled alone time to unwind (but you are right on the collection of mugs and crocheted dolls)

Jax - The stupid older relative who constantly bullies you and just says "It's just a prank bro" everytime he says something offensive or does a harmful prank because he doesn't know how to lower his masculinity and be vulnerable

Gangle - The talented relative, but was raised by a pretty bad household so now her self-esteem/confidence is at an all-time low and she's very anti-social. You'd have to interact with her first if you want ANY kind of socializing out of her

Z - The one distant but cool-looking relative that seems so apathetic and monotonous all the time, but then once you keep spending time with them and learn their interests, you'll actually find out that they're a bit of a geek about it

Kingr - That one constantly distracted relative who would constantly ramble about his interests, or help you up on the top of the shelf. When you ask questions about his past, he'll answer with quite possibly one of the worst things you've ever heard someone do, but there's a twinge of regret and sadness seeping through his tone.

They're a messy, imperfect and slightly dysfunctional found family, but still loving and caring for one another, just scarred by their pasts and needs healing from it.

... and Bubble is definitely the fucking dog.

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hello! Are you hyperfixated on RedactedAudio?

Do you want (need) to know who to follow to cultivate your dashboard and feed your gremlin brain good, good boyfriend roleplay content?

Cool, I’ve got you, and I’ve got hyperlinks. Buckle up.

(Note: This is by no means a comprehensive, objective, or complete list. I've only been in the fandom for six months or so. I have biases and favorites and limited time. I hope to update this list periodically, and if you feel I've missed someone, please feel free to reblog with your additions! I just would have loved a guide like this when I got into the fandom back in August and wanted to spread some positivity~!)

Fanfiction:

@angelnoodlesoup: she/her

Sophie is just one of the sweetest David stans that's ever existed who writes, like, the sweetest things about him. Her posts are just going to make you feel warm, fluffy, soft things in your heart area; give into the sweetness. Highlights: Sophie writes this adorable timestamp series of vignettes exploring Davey and Angel's day, but I'm particularly attacked to their David/Angel neighbors to lovers AU~

@arrowfleur

I was actually going to put Max in the visual content portion of this post, because they post delightful Redacted edits on Tiktok (under the same username, highly recommend~), but then they made a uquiz that gave me an existential crisis, so here we are. Highlights: This quiz sent my whole server for a loop and has made me reconsider my relationship with Lovely as a character and kin; it's a great time.

@batch-of-pengwings: robin/bird, she/her

Robin, an absolute sweetheart who makes all the fun ask games that keep the community interconnected and thinking and talking which is just really sweet and fun in the best way. Highlights: The Winter Wonderland game is the one who went around most recently, and it’s so fun to engage with the fandom and discuss who we think is stupid enough to get their tongues stuck on a telephone poll~

@bicyclepainting: they/them

Clover, the fandom's resident Smartass, doing the lord's work and reminding us all how fucking smoochable Aaron is on a regular basis on top of being the coolest astrology nerd don't give them your birth chart you will be perceived /lh Highlights: No one is doing Aaron/Smartass like they are; like, read and absorb the delicious, domestic delight that is them. I also recommend their deep dives into the Redacted bois signs, if you're into that; they're very thorough and fun to read!

@cashandprizes: she/they

My Lexi, my queerplatonic soulmate… She is on a quest to dissect and critique fandom brick by philosophical brick, and I both love her and fear her in equal measure. (That’s a lie, I love her infinitely, more than anything, but she is in fact incredibly intelligent and intimidating.) Highlights: Come for the scathing insights into gray-morality and DD:DNE’s place in fiction, stay for the stripper!Gavin fic they’re working on and their sequel to Lasko’s SexTember audio because she really wanted to make him cry

@ejunkiet: she/her

EJ, the very first of my Redacted loves~ Not only is EJ an endless well of kindness and positivity, but she also writes fucking bomb ass everything. You get angst, you get smut, you get fluff- We stan a multitalented, ace queen. (She also writes really cute CastleAudios fanfiction and original stuff as a cherry on top.) Highlights: EJ writes just some of my favorite David/Angel smut; she captures Angel's little shit nature perfectly. She's also written the sweetest thing of Damien meeting Huxley's moms that I can't get enough of~

@dominimoonbeam: she/her

Domini, truly one of the pillars of the fandom. I don't know what'd we'd be without her fantastic fics or her original novellas or her fantastic, beautiful, rarepair-creating brain. Highlights: God, there's too many to choose from! There's the Sam/Darlin fake dating AU that has us all gripped by the proverbial balls. There's the David/Darlin tattoo shop AU that has me frothing at the mouth because tattoo artists are stinkin hot. That's not even getting into their Cam/William fic, because god, that is such a good rarepair. We love two immortals finding love with one another, we really do. My personal favorite has got to be their Huxley/Darlin piece though, because Darlin gets to be cute and awkward and so, so loved in it.

@frenchiefitzhere: she/her

Frenchie, the fandom's unofficial (but basically official) Marie Greer, not only a gorgeous writer but also the creator of the most fantastical and unique fansongs (who makes original audio content to boot~) Highlights: We would be nowhere as a fandom without the Marie/Colm greer backstory and saga or her audios as the Greer Matriarch herself, but personally? Her Imperium!Lasko/Adam fic kind of changed my life, I'm kind of obsessed with it.

@friendlyfaded: he/him

Miles, the king and professor of the rarepairs! Beware, you will leave his blog wishing for fics for a ship that doesn’t actually exist yet. It’s unavoidable when you read the careful, creative, thoughtful way he considers seemingly silly pairings and makes them gorgeous. Highlights: I recommend his whole rarepairs with prof tag for a snack and his Sweetheart/Lasko/Milo fic for a whole meal~

@gingerbreadmonsters: she/her

Ginger, literally one of the sweetest, friendliest people in the entire Internet. I cannot adequately describe the absolute magnificent poetry of Ginger's prose, so you just have to read it for yourself. You will not be disappointed. Highlights: Ginger's Milo/Sweetheart series is for if you're feeling sweet, and her Vincent/Lovely/Gavin/Freelancer foursome fic is if you're feeling spicy~ Or if you're like me and are longing for an character we'll never see again, you can read her gorgeous, Doctor Who-inspired look in Marcus's mind.

@glassbearclock: she/her

Beans, also known as the best Milo/Sweetheart writer in the game. Their banter is taken from the mouth of god and first name Erik last name Redacted himself, and you could not convince me otherwise. Highlights: I’m a big fan of her sweet, wholesome, Jewish!Milo sick fic, but aYO her Milo/Sweetheart first date fic is so good y’all like goddamn Sweetheart phases through their door and makes Milo faceplant it on accident man that shit is so good

@horrorscoupes: they/he

My beautiful, darling Lotus, my gloriously deranged brother in arms (affectionate). The way they write each and every d(a)emons is just so -chef kiss-. Highlights: I think about their Regulus/Doll fic, like, literally every day, it's just yummy and depraved. Though, for a true taste of genius, for a galaxy brain treat, you've got to read his Shark!Vega/Pet masterpiece.

@k9rage: he/xi

My beloved Calico, our helpful Image Description fairy. He is just so cool and writes the most glorious smut like the world has ever seen. As of publishing, he's writing a Vega/Lasko street racing AU that's gonna be just smoke ash cinder fire hot. Highlights: You need to read his Damien/Gavin waxplay fic; like, this changed my life, I think about it daily. Ooh, AND his Aaron/SmartAss/Gavin threesome fic, because he didn't do all that thinking and imagining for us to not appreciate it. I'm also reccing @calicostorms, his other blog and spotify, so you can get at his stellar Redacted character playlists!

@lovelylonerliterature: 

Lovely, absolute stand-out writer in the fandom! Would you believe they have a whole (as of posting) 95 works for the RedactedASMR fandom on AO3? There’s <2000 fics, which makes Lovely a whole five percent of the fanfiction on their own. That’s wild and so hella cool. Highlights: Literally everything they write. Explore their extremely well done masterlist, it’s beautifully put together, and you’ll find something you love. (I’m particularly fond of the Darlin/Vega fic they wrote based off of one of FriendlyFaded’s posts~)

@romirola: she/her

Dr. Romi, the one and the only and one of the legitimate sweetest goddamn people that has ever existed. You've never met a more polite, darling person in all your days. How did she write all these thousands of words of art while getting a doctorate? God, I wish I knew... if only we could also be so beautiful and wonderful and accomplished. Highlights: You haven't existed until you've read her Milo/Sweetheart Tangled AU; like, what are you doing here? GO. (I also deeply recommend her found family Shaw Pack + Sam fic, if you're looking for something that's still ongoing!)

@sealriously-sealrious: they/them

Chrys who writes- no contest I think we can all agree- the best Huxley that this fandom has ever seen. He is just so well-explored and so multifaceted, just the top-tier himbo content we all need and deserve. Highlights: Huxley and Freelancer at the aquarium, Huxley and Freelancer going camping, sfw, nsfw, whatever you want, we've GOT. (There's even some imperium!Huxley, if you're so inclined >:))

@starlitangels: she/her

Starlit, another absolute powerhouse of the fandom. Just look at this masterlist, I think there’s something here for literally every character. That’s what babes call RANGE. Highlights: The way they explore the Shaw pack is so fun; I’d highly recommend her fic exploring Gabe and his backstory or her fic exploring the Shaw’s future pups~!

@taelonsamada: she/her

A pillar- or should I say fence post?- of the fandom and just an utter peach. Always has a nice word to say and says the best nice words about Sam and Darlin- Highlights: Her nsfw Geordi/Cutie fic holds a special place in my heart (the blindfold? the gag? Be still my beating heart), but you haven’t lived until you’ve read her Shaw-centric Ranch AU~!

@teasandcardigans: she/her

Mads, another lovely creator that could be in either section of this post- that's how talented she is! Not only is she a lovely writer but she also designs the most fun Redacted stickers! Also, she's got the only Redacted fan tiktok that Erik has confirmed seen and liked, can't not mention that it's so cool Highlights: Honestly, there's too many to mention! A really popular of hers is a "What If" echo-esque reimagining of everyone's stories which is so fun, and my personal, biased favorite is her Alexis & Gavin fic hear me OUT-

@the-sugar-crash

Cait, out here doing the most and the best. They’ve run the Redacted Winter Gift Exchange for the past two years, connecting blogs who might have never spoken to each other, inspiring creativity, and spreading holiday cheer~ Highlights: I recommend taking a look-see through the “Redacted 2022 Winter Gift Exchange” tag- much thanks to Cait for making it possible- to consider if you’d like to join next year! Until then, there’s a compilation of their cute headcanon posts to inspire you!

@zozo-01: she/her

Zo, one of the sweetest people in the fandom~ Not only is she a fantastic writer, but she is also one of the friendliest people in the space! Constantly excited and supportive and positive and a joy to follow and befriend. Highlights: Her Sam/Darlin Deity AU is going to change the world and break some hearts, I just know it. (Just like her Alexis and Darlin meeting fic broke mine-) If you're not up to getting your heart broken and just want a friend, I recommend asking her about her Powerpoint of Bollywood scenes that could be Sam/Darlin moments~!

Fanart:

@andr0leda: she/they

Androleda’s art is so gorgeous in that most of them are uncolored or working with a smaller palette, and it just makes those colors stand out and the line work all the more elegant. Highlights: Their wolf!Darlin piece got so popular, and you can see why! It looks like the cover of a really cool YA fantasy novel. Also, her Sam/Darlin art just melts the heart- the gentle hand, the key around the neck-!

@artbykays

Kays, a fantastic artist who plays around with the prettiest, brightest colors and has the prettiest (hottest) fem listeners. They also have super fun Redacted playlists! Highlights: Their Sweetheart, Valentina, is kind of smokin hot, I mean look at her, but also good lord, have you seen their Warden like lock me up anytime hello-

@belovedbow

Bow’s art just makes me so soft and gooey inside I dunno. Their art is so pretty, and they always have the most expressive faces. Not to mention the colors- like, Bow uses the simplest but most emotionally evocative shades of pinks and blues that make me inexplicably feel things, and I love it. Highlights: Literally all their Davey/Angel is the sweetest, but I also have this deep fondness for their imp!FL and Vindemiator pieces, because look at these deep, mournful blues, they’re beautiful!

@cascadiiing: they/them

Atlas creates the most beautiful, squishable, smoochable characters on top of being the most beautiful, squishable, smoochable (platonic) sweetie in existence~ they’re so sweet and friendly on top of being so talented at such a young age, and I would protect them with my life. Highlights: Their Sam kind of makes me so lovesick, I could barf- he’s just that pretty. Their Alexis/Christian art is fanart of my own fic, I’ll grant you, but it’s also so fucking pretty look at the dreamy colors and it MOVES-

@claracatlady

Where would we be without Clara, like honestly- What really stands out about their art is- other than the overwhelming talent- the obvious thought and joy that went into designing the outfits. Only the best from our resident fashion design student! Highlights: literally everything. If I must be specific, the David design pinned to their blog is utterly ahdhkakshdjsk, and I am particularly partial to their Alexis design, because I love my beautiful, possibly complex lady okay-

@fregget-frou : he/they

Mal has the prettiest Listeners; I’m lowkey in love with all of them~ I love the way he does such fluffy, voluminous hair, and I dunno, all their listener OC’s have this fashion model-esque glamour and posture about them that’s really attractive. Highlights: Of their listeners, Mal’s Angel has got to be my favorite. Look at this fluffy-haired cutie! Look at this menace! I would also propose to them, they’re gorgeous!

@gwenifred: she/her

Gwen draws the most gorgeous, swoon-worthy Huxleys and is just a big sweetpea to boot. Her and Pali sharing OC’s and art trades here and on Twitter is a testament to how friendly and sweet the fandom can be! Highlights: Everything she draws is gorgeous, but you haven’t lived until you’ve seen her animation work!

@ice-palace-art: They/It/He/Dae

Darby has some of the most beautiful designs, I can hardly stand it. He creates the most gorgeous, realistically proportioned characters and listeners, and they’re just really smoochable okay let me live- Highlights: It has this one piece of Gavin and Lasko having a sleepover that fills me with the warm fuzzies every time I see it, and their Aaron design fills me with longing I am hopelessly in love with their dad-bodded Aaron.

@itsdaifuku: she/her

Y’all don’t even know the little happy stim storm Fuku’s art sets me on; like, all her art is so cute and joyful and somehow colorful even when it’s in black and white? It just gives the vibe of life and vibrancy constantly? How does she do that? Highlights: Literally, everything she draws is gorgeous and sweet, though her designs for the Shaws and their mates are so S-tier and so cute. (I’m also particularly fond of her designs for Love and Alexis, my favorite characters, I’m biased, sue me)

@mr-laveau: he/they

Laveau, my favorite Milo kinnie~ (Yeah, I said it out loud; I’m callin you out.) Charming, thoughtful, friendly, much more talented than they have any right to be when they’re also so funny and sweet, AND also writing at their other blog @bratty-telepath. You’ve never seen such a double threat. Highlights: Literally, everything he makes. All his designs are colorful and gorgeous and filled to the brim with deliberate, intentional details (though I am incredibly partial to their Alexis and Darlin designs and the parallels he included between them.)

@nais-doodles

Nai is a fucking blessing unto this fandom, and we are not worthy. You haven’t really lived, haven’t experienced all the pure, positive silliness that this hellsite has to offer until you experience Nai’s Redacted Actor AU. It’s pure serotonin, and we’re all here listening to Boyfriend ASMR, I know we could use it. Highlights: Other than said AU posts (which really are so fuckin good), have you seen their drawing of Vincent and Sam’s Monarchal ball? Ooh, and if you go to their tiktok under the same username, you can see some of the really cool dating sim they’re working on!

@nanowatzophina: any pronouns

Na’no is not only a must follow on tumblr, but I also highly recommend their tiktok if you wish to wade through the horrid cesspool of that app (I say with tiktok as one of my top social media sites- we have a codependent relationship) Their art is super cute and expressive, and I get massive gender envy from the way he draws hair and teeth. Highlights: Her aspec Freelancer is just so close to my heart; I adore Avery so deeply. Also, the way they draw imperium!Vega and Pet makes my heart fucking melt and want to jump out my chest- the size difference, my god

@obsessivedino: they/them

Mint’s contribution to the fandom cannot possibly be overstated. Their art style is just so clean and neat and with the cutest expressions, and I love their designs so much, especially for the d(a)emon bois I just ahhhhh Highlights: If you’ve joined the official unofficial Redacted Discord server, you’ve seen their adorable stickers reminding you to kick that ass or hydrate unless you want to die-drate, and you haven’t truly embraced life unless you’ve seen their two-year anniversary masterpiece. Ooh, or pocket caelum!

@palilious: she/her

There is no Redacted fandom or fandom list without Pali, and we’ve all accepted that. Her style is so uniquely and instantaneously recognizable as hers, and everyone adores it, including but not limited to GBA, Nomad, and Cardlin! Highlights: Literally everyone she draws is so pretty, though I have a soft spot for her Vincent or her Nomad drawings if you’re looking for more VAs to listen to!

@pearl-kite: she/they

Kirehn has the most huggable humans and the most awe-inspiring d(a)emons. The way she draws the d(a)emons with constellations worked into the designs and color palettes is just so gorgeous and purposeful and thoughtful. Highlights: Their Vega is so frightening but beautiful, you just can’t look away from him. I’m also particularly in love with their Darlin!

@queendread

Do y’all ever do this thing when you see an ethereally beautiful person and you have no words, all you can do is giggle like a vapid schoolgirl(gn)? That’s me with all of Anna’s paintings: no words, just awe. Highlights: I don’t even really like Gavin, okay, he’s not my type, but lord above, Anna’s Gavin is something else. Their Sam also has those Captain America, boy next door good looks I imagined, it’s like they took him right out of my daydreams.

@ryokoaoi : they/them

Ryo has the absolute cutest, most adorable art style, one can barely handle it! Everything they draw is just so pretty and so colorful and detailed and sweet. (Except the sad things, those are less sweet but gosh they’re still so pretty.) They also have this Magic Swap AU that they design that is so fun to read about! Highlights: Their swapped! Gavin and Avior designs are so fun, I adore them deeply, and if you need something to cheer you up, you can always depend on their DAMN pieces that always include a little invisible Caelum to bring you joy~!

@slushrottweiler: she-they

There is nothing like seeing Slush’s signature blue linework on your dashboard, it’s such a sweet treat- or spicy. There are also very good, very spicy treats. Her blog is a magnificent roulette wheel of blue surprises. Highlights: I love their Sam/Darlin stuff, especially this one because wowee them shoulderblades, but their HuxDami BA piece takes the cake.

@spookybeandoodle

Spooky has my whole heart and wallet and my other heart if I had one I fell in love with their rich color palettes and shading and Alexis right away and had to commission them. Could not recommend enough, they were a treasure to work with~ Highlights: I’m not biased- okay yes I am but not now their Alexis is fuckin smoking hot but also their Cam might be my favorite Cam look at that smile-!

@sri-rachaa: she/her

Rae is such a treasure to this fandom, we hardly deserve her. Her art is so ethereally pretty and delicate? The way she draws hair and noses and silhouettes- her line work is just phenomenal. Everything she creates is just a delight to look at. Highlights: The Southern Siblings AU is a gift, a treasure, a boon that cannot be ignored. I’m also a big fan of her Lovely OC who is ridiculously pretty~

@tankwolf : she/her

June has been posting fanart for only two months, but I’m already absolutely obsessed. I just find her monochrome character portraits so visually engaging and interesting. I would love so badly to be friends with her listener OC’s… Highlights: …or more than friends, because her Sweetheart is something else good lord. I would just love it if June could stop putting the hot people in crop tops please (but also don’t cause whoa)

@terrazaurio

All the fanart Terra creates is so bright and vivid and colorful and expressive, they’re really such a treat to see and experience. I’m a sucker for the colors they use, cause it makes my lizard brain all happy and go “shiny pretty happy.” Highlights: Everything they draw with the Shaw Pack is pure dopamine, like this one of the bois and their mates hanging by the pool. I am particularly attached to this piece from Milo’s HBS, because they’re so fucking in love, your honor, I love them.

@thefablefoxart : she/her

Angelina’s Redacted couple series is one of the truest delights of the fandom; like, they’re so colorful and cute and just adorably designed. I’m also deeply in love with the way she does hair. Everyone just has really fucking good looking hair, and I can’t get over it-Highlights: On top of the aforementioned couple series, I just want to bring attention to this adorable chibi Sam that she drew- it brings me so much serotonin- and their Darlin, Kai who I wish would just give me a shot okay I have a Southern accent too-

If you’re reading all the way here, I hope you found the post helpful and smiled while making your way through it! Or both! The RedactedAudio fandom is truly one of my favorite spaces on the internet; it’s so intimate and creative, and I’ve found some amazing, perfect friends here, so I hope you will too 💖

again playing around with the formatting please stop hurting me tumblr I’m trying to be nice

If you can see this, I love you, and you’re watching me try to format this post so tumblr doesn’t cut off the bottom of it please ignore the Android behind the emerald curtain go about your day

[audliminal]

It's barely the end of the first day of school, and three faculty members are dead. Nobody knows much yet, but supposedly the six freshman who all managed to get detention on the very first day of school were involved and, if the rumors are to be believed, two of them actually died. In a dumb fight in the cafeteria against some animated corn. Kipperlily rolls her eyes when she hears it. They're clearly a bunch of losers who are going to either drop out or get someone killed before the year is out, but that's not really her problem, is it?

Still, just to be on the safe side, maybe their party should spend some time in the woods behind the school, and get some practice in with rats and things before they find themselves involved in a fight like those dumb detention kids did.

It's a month into the school year, and Kipperlily's starting to get the hang of things. She's feeling comfortable in a fight now, they've been killing rats and twig gremlins in the Far Haven Woods as often as they can manage, and they're getting really good at it. They even have a name now, the High 5 Heroes, chosen by Kipperlily herself, of course.

Meanwhile, Kipperlily's pretty sure the kids from detention actually killed someone, though nobody seems to be talking about it. Kipperlily doesn't care what anyone says, she's heard multiple people say they saw members of their group talking to Penelope Sam and Johnny spells, and then the day after Johnny Spells gets killed in a fucking car chase, the rich kid, who's literally the son of a pirate, has a mysterious new motorcycle? It's all far too suspicious.

It's the week after winter break, and Kipperlily is stuck in the stupid guidance councilor's office, talking about her dumb feelings. Unlike the Bad Kids (and what kind of stupid name is that), who apparently had an adventure dropped in their lap within minutes of the first school day ending, Kipperlily has been waiting months and still nothing has popped up. Plus Oisin and Ivy keep joking about changing their party name to the Rat Grinders.

It's dumb. Who would want a party name that's based on some joke? Besides, she already chose the name. So why on earth would they change it now? At least Lucy seems to agree with her about it.

It's just days after prom, and Kipperlily is sick of everything. The stupid Bad Kids apparently crashed prom and literally defeated Kalvaxus, Emperor of the Red Waste. It's honestly bullshit. A dumb group of kids that couldn't even make it through one day of school without getting one third of their party killed, and they're being credited with saving the entire continent? Kipperlily's been digging into the Bad Kids' history with every moment of her free time, trying to figure out how a bunch of dumb untrained kids managed something so huge. And she thinks she might have cracked it.

Kristen Applebees is literally Helio's Chosen One, and apparently Adaine Abernant is the new Oracle of the Elves. Kipperlily doesn't know what Fig, Fabian, or Gorgug's deals are yet, but if rumors are to be believed, then Riz Gukgak's dad was eaten by the very same Kalvaxus. Clearly the entire reason the Bad Kids are succeeding is because of their personal histories.

And to make matters worse, Oisin and Ivy managed to get the rest of the party to go along with the stupid Rat Grinders name. and Mary Ann didn't even have a reason for it! The only one who voted with her was Lucy. So now they've got a dumb name and no real adventuring prospects, and all the while, a bunch of kids who skip classes and get arrested are somehow getting perfect grades with no effort.

It's sophomore year and everything is terrible. The Rat Grinders meet every day to kill rats in the woods and it's dumb and boring, and not even a little bit difficult anymore, and she has to go to weekly councilor sessions with Jawbone, who's an ally of her rival adventuring party, which. Aguefort already clearly likes them, and even before he was resurrected they had managed to get two of their allies positions in the school. Which has to be an unfair advantage. And now Fig's dad is the vice principal rather than the lunch lad. It's really no wonder they never seem to get in trouble for skipping classes or any of their other bullshit.

At least she can use their connection with Jawbone to her advantage. Every meeting with him, she mines him for new information on the Bad Kids, who have been doing absolutely nothing so far this year.

It's sophomore year and The Rat Grinders are going to finally get their chance! Porter and Jace have approached her with the opportunity of a lifetime! Porter even said she shows a lot of promise! He doesn't even seem to take issue with his anger, and he says that he's going to help her become an amazing adventurer. All she has to do is accept this weird little rage star thing and start worshipping some dead god of rage. Kipperlily honestly isn't that much into religion, but this is the first interesting thing to happen to her all day. She's already working to convince Lucy to change her god.

It's sophomore year and even as Kipperlily is finally making progress, the Bad Kids are still showing her up. Somehow, they ended up fighting the Nightmare King himself, defeating him and somehow in the process, Kristen Applebees managed to ressurect a dead god of her own. It's bullshit and literally the only reason they manage to get back in time for the end of spring break is the direct intervention of the principal again. Plus now Fig has somehow managed to become an Archdevil and start dating Principal Aguefort's daughter. As if she wasn't already a rockstar.

It's sophomore year and Kipperlily's going to make the Rat Grinders the best adventuring party at Aguefort, even if it kills her.

It's junior year and the Bad Kids seemed determined to ruin her life. It's bullshit. They literally didn't even know who she was before this year, and they seem determined to ruin everything she's working towards. On the first day of school, they all collectively decided that Kristen was going to run for school president, seemingly as a bit, the exact second that they find out she's running. And immediately on meeting her they made fun of her fucking name for literally no reason.

It's junior year and everything's going to plan. Kristen's been expelled, and the Bad Kids are taking The Last Stand, and they've got the perfect opportunity to get rid of all the Bad Kids for good. And yet somehow Kristen fucking Applebees manages to ruin their fucking plans perfectly, spotting her out before she can succeed in killing the proctor and Buddy. Instead she has to kill Buddy and let Oisin take her away before the Bad Kids can do anything. So of course the Bad Kids get a literal perfect score on The Last Stand, and now they've all aced their classes for the whole year.

It's junior year and they're summoning a dead god. It's junior year and they find out as they're casting the spell, that the name they'd gotten was fucking wrong. It's junior year and despite all their preparations the Bad Kids have managed to get to the gymnasium with all their stupid fucking votes. It's junior year and Kipperlily is at least going to kill Riz. It's junior year and Riz literally dives into lava.

It's junior year and Kipperlily's going to kill Riz. He thinks he's hiding, but she can see him, and she's going to have to close with him, but this is her opportunity, and then she's in the air, and he's got her in a hold person spell, and she's falling, and she's in the lava, and it's so hot, and it burns, and then it's all gone.

It's junior year and Kipperlily is dead. It's junior year and she's in a world of crystal spines and lava, and in the reflections of the crystals, Kipperlily can see everything. She sees herself in those wretched meetings with jawbone, kicking at the leg of the chair, and she can see Jawbone asking her every fucking time, what can she do to become a better adventurer. As if it was ever in her control. As if she ever could have done anything. As if it wasn't all about her backstory the whole time. As if she weren't the boring daughter of two boring people. As if she had ever had a chance.

"Did you ever try?" She hears a voice ask. And then Ankarna is there. The god that she tried so hard to kill. "Did you ever really try to become a better adventurer, or did you just wait for it to happen to you?"

"I did everything I could!" Kipperlily insists. "It's unfair, why should they get all the advantages?"

"Were they really ever advantages? Or did you just decide they were?"

"You think those idiots deserved their success? All they ever do is screw around!"

"That is not what I have seen of them. Nor have I seen any better of you. Of course, you did your schoolwork and you did it to the letter, but when did you ever challenge yourself? When did you ever take a risk? When did you ever seek out a task that was more than what you felt certain you would succeed at? Would you have even have the courage to take part in Porter's plan if he had not personally trained you, ensured that you were all as powerful as possible? You insist that the Bad Kids are only successful because of their tragic history, but what of Gorgug? There is not one thing in his past that drives him and yet he has succeeded at doing things no one else has ever managed." Ankarna stares long and hard at her, and then she is gone and Kipperlily is alone again. With nothing in her death but her own thoughts to keep her company.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Drabble-A-Thon 2 Prompt #14

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Prompt: Piercer!Tomura giving Dabi a temporary corset piercing (and then fucking him stupid)

Contents: OnlyFans!Dabi, Piercer!Tomura, BDSM club, sex work, anal plugs, anal sex, genital piercings, lingerie.

"So what's the occasion this time?" Tomura Shigaraki is, possibly, the hottest man that he's met in his life. Dabi hadn't given him a second glance when he came in here at twenty-two and Shigaraki was a scrawny eighteen year old with an unfortunate haircut and an attitude problem. Then something happened with his adoptive father, he disappeared for about eight months, and he came back fucking ripped, hair bleached white and grown out wild past his shoulders, snake bites, dimple piercings, and, he's sure, plenty of others underneath his clothes based on how he talked about the options for genital piercings when Dabi came in to get his ladder done. He's got bright red eyes that make him look so intense and dangerous, and Dabi is absolutely gaining a reputation of spending way too much on body jewelry just so he can come into the shop more often as he tries desperately to get the other man to take a fucking hint and blow his back out. Dabi doesn't know how many times he has to drop his Just4Fans account handle and make jokes about how Shigaraki is the only person in the world who has been paid to see his dick instead of the other way around, but it is not working and he is losing his mind. 

"I hired one of my photographer friends to do a special shoot at La Vénus." The fancy BDSM club in the city is a very pricy venue for him to have booked a room for a photoshoot but, thankfully, when he had called to inquire, he had left his contact information and handle and they had been impressed enough with his numbers to do a collaboration and comp the costs for a few additional deliverables. 

"V, really?" Shigaraki and he have been texting for a few days to set this up, so he doesn't beat around the bush and brings him back to the room they'll be using. 

"Have you been?" He hopes the answer is 'yes', and if it's not, he really, really, hopes that he can convince him to go check it out. 

"Not recently." But then he is having Dabi strip out of his shirt and coat. "When is the shoot?" 

"Two months, you said I wouldn't be able to lace it right away if I didn't want to fuck them up." 

"You heal well so that should be alright, but you will have to take them out sooner rather than later and you won't be able to lay on your back." 

"Worth it. Besides, plenty of people love to have me face down." 

Shigaraki doesn't take the bait, and focuses on walking Dabi through the work that he's going to be doing. If it turns out that Shigaraki is straight as an arrow, Dabi would still come back here for more piercings. He's good at his work. 

Still hurts like a motherfucker when he convinces Shig to give him six sets instead of four when he sees the spacing. 

///

Two months was a longer time than he thought it would be, but when the piercings are healed, he goes back to the shop. He does it under the guise of wanting Shigaraki to check the rings to make sure they're all good and show him how much tension the lacing can take, but he also does it so he can drop another hint that he's going to be at V that night. He brings a little baggie of the things he wants to try for the photoshoot, blue satin and red velvet ribbon, delicate gold and silver body chains with little crystal beads hanging off of them. Things that will look so pretty and sparkly against his burns and pale skin. 

Shigaraki isn't wearing his gloves for once, not needing to be sterile to help show him the tension he should keep if he wants to keep from straining his skin. Which means when his knuckles brush along Dabi's spine as he traces one of the loops of ribbon to the next connection point, Dabi can feel it. Barely a touch, but one that makes him hot even as he shivers slightly. 

"Sorry." The hands retreat and Dabi still can't ask for them back when he's here. But if Shigaraki is at V, if he comes to see him, Dabi is throwing subtlety out the fucking window. "Good luck. I think your fans will really enjoy this. It's a very striking piece on you." 

"Thank you. You always outdo yourself." 

He doesn't think he's imagining the heat in Shigaraki's eyes as he pulls his shirt back on, leaving the red velvet laced between his piercings. 

///

The photoshoot goes fantastically. The room that V put aside for their use is one with the two-way glass that goes out into the viewing hall, the massive window framed with red LEDs and the mirror there, the on the ceiling above the lavish black bed, toy display on the wall, and sex swing in the corner gives them so much to work with. Dabi probably gets a dozen sets out of it and he's also been given the go-ahead to actually use the room for the night. He won't tell anyone else that he's here to avoid any stalker problems, but it will be fun to get up to his nonsense in an environment that is absolutely steeped in this culture. 

He's only just gone back out into the main area, hoping to get a drink and find a partner or two, when he immediately spots white hair in the crowd. Shigaraki is wearing black slacks, a suit jacket, and a deep red shirt left unbuttoned almost to his navel. His hair is half-tied up, and the second that their eyes meet across the room, Dabi knows that the other man really did come here for him. 

"Is your shoot over?" He asks as soon as he's standing in front of him. 

"Yeah, want to come to the room they gave me and admire your work up close?" 

Dabi is pretty sure they don't manage a single other word before they are stumbling back to the room, their hands against each other's bodies. Dabi didn't put on a shirt before he went out, he just pulled his leather pants over the little red panties that he was wearing for the shoot to match the ribbon, and he kicks those and his boots off quickly as Shigaraki's mouth moves over his neck as his hands tease at his nipples, at the rings he put through those. He tastes the stud he put in Dabi's tongue, pushes him on the bed on his knees as his hand slips into his panties and he fondles his aching cock and strokes the ladder he gave him. His hands run up his back, thumbing over the piercings as he growls against his skin, 

"So pretty in my color, baby boy," and Dabi thinks his brain is going to melt as he moans and spreads his legs wider, showing the other that he opened himself up for a plug while doing the shoot. Tomura catches the base and fucks into his hole a few times. Until Dabi's cock is leaking against the sheets and he's begging, 

"Please, please, please," because he's been dreaming about having Tomura's cock for years now and he doesn't want to wait for it anymore. 

Worth the wait that did precede it when he twists his head to see their bodies in the mirror above the bed. When he gets to see how lovely his skin looks with the ribbon stretched between it and gets to see Tomura's thick, long cock, decorated with a PA through his head, a ladder of his own, and a pubic piercing as well, just before he gets to feel all of his hardware as he slips the plug from his body and replaces it with his cock.

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[silkentine]

Camille Boucher is her father's favorite daughter. If only he wasn't born in the year 840 and turned into a vampire at the age of 45 during the Siege of Paris. You think your boomer dad isn't very woke? Imagine having one who is older than France. So, being the favorite daughter doesn't amount to much when she has several male siblings. She is, however, the only one of her many siblings who refuses to hunt and kill humans for sustenance and carries great pride in that. It's been 398 years since she's killed a human with her teeth (the bubonic plague made the whole affair very unappetizing).

Despite what you might think, being 425 years old is not easy! You try living through several wars and then see if you're willing to remember them all. Sometimes, facets of Camille's memory spring to mind and she relives the deaths of her mortal friends or lifetimes of her own personal suffering. But, hey, every twenty-something (or those who look like they're in their twenties) has mental issues these days; she's not special. It's better to just put the centuries of trauma on the back-burner most days. She has a relatively easy life otherwise; with her father having dominion over the entire Pacific Northwest, there is very little outside her reach, even if her stupid brothers get to reap most of the lucrative benefits.

Camille's hobbies include: attending college (she has far too many degrees to count, though most of them are in math), looking mysterious at coffee shops, solving puzzles, and conducting independent criminal investigations. She hates cops and avoids them at all costs. Her favorite part of the job is the thrill of investigating a case without being allowed onto the crime scene or access to forensic tools. Keeps the mind sharp.

Her newest undertaking? The Dentona Vampire, a notorious serial killer known for tearing out the throats of their victims (a bad look for the local vampires who'd prefer a more low-key media presence). The Dentona Vampire has been active for about six months now, but Camille has no real leads on who the murderer might be.

That is, until she keeps bumping into the same handsome, long-haired goon who keeps announcing himself publicly as a vampire. He honestly seems too clumsy to be a notorious serial killer, but he's the only interesting thing in her never-ending life at the moment. Even if he can't lead her to a clue about her case, it wouldn't hurt to show him the ropes and teach him how to be a more subtle creature of the night and less of a tacky Anthony Slater-type.*

*Anthony Slater is a fictional vampire and one of the primary love interests in the YA book series, The Crepuscular Saga. Everyone knows he ends up with the girl at the end of the book, but Camille preferred the boyish charm of the werewolf character, Lukas Rust, and secretly wished he'd be the end-game romance.

What's another pet project? She has all the time in the world, and it would be just terrible if her father found out someone was out there telling the humans about the existence of real vampires.

Thank you for reading my massive introduction to my character, Camille Boucher! She was a tricky personality to pin down, but her sense of filial duty and her selfish interest in detective work is the perfect combination to make an overconfident and resentful eldest daughter who refuses to grow up but knows she will never develop into her own if she doesn't. The goon she keeps bumping into is the other protagonist of this work, Bat Valentine. Find out more about him by looking at the "sanguine" tag on my blog.

Some characters that I drew inspiration from for Camille are: Nancy Drew, Annabeth Chase from Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Kaylee Frye from Firefly, Nami from One Piece, and L. Lawliet from Death Note.