#when he was a part of one (if not two) of the most macho and toxically masculine social circles of the time

[icestarphoenix]

Aran Ryan Headcanons

Aran Ryan doesn’t think he’s any good with magic and sees himself as just particularly lucky. However, he is actually unconsciously using magic to subtly alter reality around him to his favor. He just believes he has the “Luck of the Irish” on his side. As such, Aran is extremely superstitious since he views the effects of his magic as just luck. 

If he says to you “good luck”, he actually wants you to fail and is trying to jinx you. “Break a leg” is how he actually wishes luck.

Even if he can get up earlier, Aran will always try to get up at the count of seven.

When he punches with loaded gloves, he does his best to not turn the horseshoes upside down when possible.

Every little thing can be an omen to him. Glass Joe was KO’d during round two rather than round one? Today’s his lucky day! A cloud in the sky is shaped weirdly? Aran needs to be careful of his surroundings. To other people, what signals good and bad luck seem completely arbitrary.

Aran was born and raised by the sea, with his father being a fisherman and his mother a fishwife. He even worked on the docks ever since he was a lil’ lad. 

He knows his way around knots and even snuck a monkey’s fist into his flail among other things.

While Aran's built quite some strength from working at the docks, his little sister built quite the silver tongue from helping her mother at the fish market. She could cheat the devil himself using just her words. Ever the swindler, that clever lil' lass.

He tends to give nicknames to people he likes. For example, Soda is “Pops”. Macho Man is “Machie”. Sandman is “Sandy”, but that’s prevalent among other boxers too. Though, Aran also uses nicknames just to annoy people. Von Kaiser is especially incensed by “Ol’ Geezer”.

He may be woefully below weight class compared to the other World Circuit boxers, but Aran makes up for it with his excellent fight IQ. Despite his external wild and spastic behavior, he is internally quite analytical when it comes to combat. Aran’s just beaten out in the raw power department.

Aran’s hands are constantly wrapped in bandages due to his penchant for punching with metal horseshoes. He’s gotten better at avoiding bruised and broken knuckles, but it still happens with how erratically he fights. The other boxers don’t remember what Aran’s palms look like.

When boxing, he wraps his hands with tape in addition to bandages to cushion his hands. Now gotta add improper hand wrapping to the infractions list.

The reason why Aran is still in the WVBA despite being a blatant and frequent cheater is because viewership skyrockets when his matches are broadcasted. Most people want to see him get his comeuppance, so they tune in. A small portion of the audience watches to see what kind of new tricks he will pull. Aran Ryan is the heel and he knows it, and he doesn’t care. He’s good at entertaining the crowd and giving them a villain they love to hate.

Wii Aran and SPO Aran are the same person to me. He was a rule-abiding boxer back in the SPO days, but quickly got bored of fighting fairly when all his competitors were cheating with their unique gimmicks. So, Aran gave cheating a try one day and never went back. He was already good at boxing, as such it became wayyyyy more fun to think of new ways to cheat and see how much the WVBA will tolerate.

This has also made him much more popular (or infamous) in the eyes of the audience. No one really noticed him before.

He doesn’t even see his fair-fighting past self and cheating current self as the same person anymore. He gets visibly annoyed when people bring up “that bloke from Branch B”. That Aran was dead the moment he threw his first punch with loaded gloves.

He made his progress up the ranks and into the World Circuit when he still fought fairly. Ever since he started cheating, Aran hasn’t really tried to keep moving up in rank and just defends his place. Part of it is that he has way too much fun continuously stomping on Don Flamenco’s pathetic attempts to take his spot.

[paikothecateater]

Currently working on a whale brothers + Sweden mini fic for an ask, but I feel like I have to point this out. (this is unrelated to the mini fic, I just wanted to assure the asker that I am working on it)

So, I'm sure most of you have seen this before.

It's a table of how the Nordics refer to one another.

I think this table is a pretty cool thing. It actually shows a lot more about their personalities than you'd think.

For example: Finland is the only one who calls Sweden 'Su-san' he's also the only one to refer to the other Nordics using honorifics or suffixes and this is actually very indicative of his relationship with the others.

(this is all information from Google, I can't speak for it's accuracy.)

The others do not refer to each other using honorifics which indicates a sense of over familiarity. It makes sense, but Finland being the only one who uses them indicates that he probably doesn't feel close enough to them to not use them. Either that or he's just too polite to.

He also refers to Sweden and Denmark with the suffix (San)

While for Norway and Iceland he uses (Kun)

This is actually also shown in the anime. He calls Sweden 'Mr. Sweden' and Denmark 'Mr. Denmark' though he does not do the same with Norway and Iceland. Now, Google did say that Kun is usually reserved for underclassmen and that may be the case for Iceland, but I'm not sure about how that reflects his relationship with Norway.

I've seen people talk about Denmark referring to Norway as his best friend and whatnot, but something I've never seen anyone bringing up is how interesting the usage of Boku and Ore is here.

Finland and Iceland refer to themselves with Boku. This is a generally more humble, polite and refined way to refer to oneself.

The other few use Ore which is described as being much less formal and a lot more masculine according to Google.

So essentially, the viking trio see themselves as big scary macho men, noted.

There's also something that generally intrigues me here.

Iceland has two ways of referring to Norway

Norway and Nore.

He uses Norway for international settings, but only uses Nore when it's just among the other Nordics.

According to Google there are a few reasons as to why that might be.

The one I've gotten most is this:

It's generally rude to refer to someone older than you by a nickname. It doesn't seem to matter any that they're in fact brothers. It looks like the same rules apply regardless of what relationship the two people have.

So it's just so he doesn't seem rude by calling Norway a nickname? I don't think it's that simple.

See, he calls all the others by a nickname, in fact, more so than anyone else. He doesn't change up in international settings for any of the others, even though, if anything, it would make more sense if he did.

Could it be his way of distancing himself from Norway in front of other countries? It would make sense. Iceland did always act embarrassed about being Norway's brother, so maybe this is his way of acting like they aren't as close as they are.

This is also something that happens with Denmark. Both he and Norway refer to Sweden as Sverige, but Denmark also refers to him as Sweden in international settings.

I don't think any of the last explanations work seeing as technically Denmark here is portrayed as Sweden's superior, so it wouldn't make sense for him to change it out of respect.

Google really did not help with this one so I had to come up with my own theory. While the others have some evidence in canon, this is just pure speculation on my part.

Denmark could be saying it in English to make it easier to understand when it comes to international settings. The Danish accent is known to be quite thick and hard to understand if you're not familiar with it. Denmark could be more comfortable with saying Sweden's name in Danish around the other Nordics as they're more familiar with his accent and could easily understand what he's saying.

What about Norway? Well, the Norwegian accent is considerably more coherent even to those unfamiliar with it.

You're more likely to guess what a Norwegian is saying through context clues than with a Danish person because you likely misheard what the Danish person said.

Sweden is also the only one to refer to Finland by... Well... Finland. The others all call him Fin.

We know by now that Sweden is very socially awkward so it makes sense that he wouldn't feel 100% comfortable calling Finland by a nickname, especially when Finland is the only person referring to him by an honorific. Sweden would likely worry that it'd be considered rude if he called Finland by a nickname.

There's something else I find a little interesting here.

Norway calls Denmark anko or Den

While Iceland calls Denmark Dan.

Why the difference between Den and Dan? Both the Norwegian and Icelandic words for Denmark start with Dan (Nor:Danmark, Ice: Danmörk), so why does Norway call him Den?

Maybe he's using the English spelling, but why would he do that? It's not like it's an accent issue. I actually have no clue as to why this is.

Another thing is Iceland being the only one to call Sweden by Sví.

We know in the anime and manga that Iceland has a particularly close relationship with Sweden, so it may be a product of that. Even when it's not directly shown, it's implied that the two are very close given that Iceland can pick up on Sweden's remote social cues better than anyone else. Is this historically accurate? I doubt it, but that doesn't exactly matter right now.

Here's another thing,

Finland's 'Ta-san' comes from the Finnish word 'Tanska' which translates to Denmark, but where does his 'Su-san' come from? The Finnish word for Sweden is 'Ruotsi'

Well it could be that (スウェーデン) the word for Sweden in Japanese is pronounced something like ( Suu-eden) so that's likely where it comes from. It's a little strange that he'd use the Finnish word for Denmark, but the Japanese word for Sweden.

Well, both Japanese and English are used in this table as what I'd like to call (base languages) the table operates under the assumption that whoever reads it either speaks Japanese or English, so they're used as though they were the same language. Essentially (Su-san) acts as (Swe-san) because (Ruo-san) doesn't help people who don't speak Finnish understand who Finland is referring to. Nordic, English and Japanese names for Sweden all start with the letter S. If I told you Sweden is referred to by 'Su-san' you'd probably think it's not that strange as an English or Japanese speaker, but if I told you he was referred to by 'Ruo-san' you probably would be very confused.

I'll quickly run down this one.

Norway calling Denmark Anko.

Anko is referred to as being (kind of like bro)

It is not in fact kind of like bro.

It means red bean paste.

Why does Norway call Denmark this? Well, it could be because of the red in his flag, but that's not what interests me.

Most Japanese nicknames are just shortened versions of one's name. Ice, Fin, Nor, etcetera.

Anko here is very interesting. It doesn't seem to be a common nickname in Japan. It could be that given that Denmark and Norway are referred to as best friends and are shown to be very close. This could be a classic case of a childhood nickname that carried in into adulthood.

Alright, that's all I have to say on this matter. As always, thank you for coming to my yap session. And for the asker who's waiting on that mini fic, I'm sorry for the wait. I just had to get this thought of mine out there before I forgot. I'll try to have the mini fic out as soon as humanly possible.

Also, let me know if you have any other theories about this name table because I'd be very interested to see if anyone else thought about this.

[nychthemeron-rants]

I want to draw my HC for human Angel but I don't think people will appreciate my vision...

[bonafideyapper]

DAY OFF - maximus (fallout tv) x female!reader (smut)

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!!! 18+ // virgin maximus, you work for free because he’s just so sweet, no use of “y/n” but “your name” is typed out, subby (switch) Maximus, he’s embarrassed, I love it; reader is described as female, chubby, and southern/from the east coast, premature ejaculation (but the stamina is there fr he’s back up and ready in like 30 seconds flat); oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it ‘fo you tap it, reader), creampie, I probably forgot some but tbh I didn’t expect to get as raunchy as I did (not proofread)

(this is written to be a one-shot but if there’s enough interest in a second part i’ll work something up :)) 

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

Maximus was pretty pissed off and worn down by the time he came across a settlement along the way to tracking down the head, or the armor, he really didn’t know what his purpose in life was at the moment. He was just tired and needed some water, maybe a snack. He kept thinking back to that vault dweller he met in Filly, her pretty big eyes and that cute little smile. He’d never see her again, but hey, at least he could have the memory. 

He stumbled into the first crudely established business he could find that might serve him, taking a seat at the bar and trying to get the bartender’s attention. Clearly had not taken in the scenery of the bar he was in. Beautiful women stood around, each one with various male patrons. Unable to properly get the man’s attention; Maximus huffed and let his shoulders slump in near-defeat. After meeting the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and then getting his ass kicked and losing the fucking armor, he had little energy left to give. 

You noticed this from your position at the end of the bar, slowly inching your way down as he took his place at the bar. The man had barely looked up when he burst through the door, clearly not noticing he had stumbled into the only brothel for miles around. Well respectable women making money to support themselves, helping weary travelers and the occasional rough raider to get some peace and release for the night. Today was your day off, but you always loved a little challenge. 

“Emmett! Would you be a dear and get me two waters?” You leaned over the bar and flashed the old man a big smile, he had always had a soft spot for you since you’d always slip him a big tip from whatever you made upstairs. Emmett filled up two glasses of water and slid them across to land in front of you, “On the house, beautiful.” 

You turned to get a good look at the man, fighting back a laugh as he stared at the glass of cold water in your hand, almost resembling a panting dog. “Here, honey; this is for you.” He muttered out a ‘thanks’ as he took the glass and took it down in three gulps, setting it back down on the counter between them. 

Maximus was smitten the moment he laid eyes on you, his literal saving grace. He finally took in his surroundings and cleared his throat, trying to put on that macho attitude of a knight, but really just an awkward little guy (with and) without that armor. “Thank you, um, I didn’t seem to catch your name?” He tried not to notice the obvious – that you were a whore, and he was a lying squire. He figured you two were one in the same, he was the lowest rung of the Brotherhood’s hierarchy, and you were, well, a prostitute. Max didn’t really care though; he had never seen someone as captivating as you, especially not in the wasteland. 

You told him your name, and Maximus swore he had never heard anything so beautiful before. He watched you take small sips from the glass in front of you as you spoke with him for the next few minutes, realizing he had yet to offer you his name. To lie or not to lie, that is the question.

“M-Maximus. That’s my name.” He told you, offering up a piece of knowledge about himself. Hey, he figured he’d never be back in this part of the wasteland, telling you his real name wouldn’t hurt nobody. “I uh, I don’t have any caps, so if you’re looking for a customer…” He trailed off, thinking you were only there for one thing. 

“Well, lucky for you, today’s my day off.” You flashed him an award-winning smile, one that would’ve been plastered on billboards in the old world. 

The two of you talked for awhile, neither of you too worried about the environment around you. You filled in most of the silence with some stories about your past. He found out you were close to his age, had come to the western wasteland from what used to be the Carolinas, and were working in the saloon until you could find someone to take you back to Appalachia. You both sat there until closing time, Emmett giving you signal with a jerk of his head towards the stairs leading up to your room with an eyebrow up as if asking, “Charity work on your day off?”

“Hey Maxie, you wanna go get some sleep? Only five caps for a nice place to rest.” You squeezed his arm gently, leaning towards him, “No business, just as friends.” Maximus had never had a nickname before, other than the verbal insults spat at him by his fellow brothers. After spending quite some time with you, he decided that he liked the nickname, and would not let the abuse of the Brotherhood affect his brief time with you. He found himself nodding without thinking over your offer, blindly following you once you moved your dainty little hand to grab onto his larger one. Once he was behind you, he took notice of the way your dress moved as you walked, swaying slightly with each step. He tried to remain honorable and not stare at your ass as you went up the stairs, believing you were telling the truth when you claimed that no ‘business’ would happen.

Boy had he been wrong.

Once you had him safely in the confines of your room, your lips were on him like flies to honey. He desperately kissed you, his hands coming up to hold your cheeks like you’d float away if he didn’t anchor your body to his. Or, maybe he felt like he’d float away if he didn’t hold onto you. 

“No, no no no no! This can’t be happening.” Maximus broke away from your lips suddenly, trying to push you from his lap at the feeling of his growing erection. 

“Hey hey, calm down.” You frowned and grabbed onto his hands, distracting him by putting them firmly on your thighs and looking up into his frantic eyes, “What’s wrong, honey?” 

“I think my cock is about to explode.” Maximus panicked and frowned when you just laughed in his face, not taking his worries about the brainwashed BoS sex ed seriously. Your hands floated up to rest on the side of his neck, your thumb ghosting over the scar running along his chin.

“Oh, bless your heart. Maxie, that’s what‘s supposed to happen. Do you trust me to make that feel good for you?” The way you cooed to him in a condescending way in that sweet southern accent made him whimper. His head nodded on instinct, going into this with blind trust for you since hey, you were a professional. With him finally voicing the consent on the matter, you flashed him a big smile and resumed making out with him. Your hands drifted down between your two bodies, palming him gently through the front of his pants and eliciting sweet whimpers from the virgin. 

His hands were clumsy as they explored your body, but you didn’t really mind. He finally discovered the places his hands felt like home, one landing on the soft, plump flesh of your hip as the other found its place on your lower back. He pulled your body closer, seeming to gain more courage as the night progressed. Something about a safe bed and a good-looking woman in his lap just did it for him, y’know? 

Max shifted you both down so he could lay his upper body back against your pillows, just trying to get comfortable and not think about the way his cock felt–you made it very hard (pun intended) to think about anything else. You broke your lips away from his and let out a melodic giggle as he chased your lips. You needed him out of that white t-shirt that oh-so-deliciously clung to his biceps, so naturally your hands reached to pull it over his head. 

You really were the best at what you did, and you knew it, Maximus could tell. You expertly removed his belt and pants without him even noticing, only detaching your lips from his because you had started to leave a trail moving down, down, down…

Fuck, he’s beautiful, you thought to yourself. Taking time to press open-mouthed kisses along any scars that may have been on his abdomen, you glanced up to see his eyes locked on you. Half-lidded brown eyes stared down at you, his breath catching in his throat as you finally reached your destination. You carefully opened his pants and tapped his hip gently, asking him to lift up to make this a little easier for you. As he obeyed, you pulled his pants down in one swift motion, smirking when you saw his cock. Perfectly shaped, thick and girthy, just how you liked it, and rock-hard as it sprung up out of the confines of his briefs. 

“Still trust me?” You whispered to him before you put your hands on him again, basically salivating over the thought. Maximus didn’t even need to hear the rest of your question, nodding frantically after you uttered the first syllable. Taking his cock in your hand, you easily began working him, keeping your eyes on him. You loved the look on a virgin’s face when you touched them for the first time, and Max was no different. His eyes had closed, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Absolutely fucking beautiful, in your professional opinion.

His hands found their way to your hair as you licked a drop of precum from the tip of his cock, humming softly in delight at the salty substance before immediately getting to work. You wrapped your lips around him and gathered enough saliva to really make it enjoyable for him, not even having time to really get sloppy with it when the pretty boy had busted in your mouth with a profuse apology. Greedy, you pulled your mouth off of him and swallowed down the load. You thought it was cute how apologetic he was at how quick it had happened, so you wiped your mouth and leaned up to kiss him again. “Don’t apologize, I’m not done.” 

Max didn’t know what else to expect, already astonished that it had gone on this long and his cock was still attached to his body. With his cock standing staunch and almost painfully erect again, Maximus let out a pitiful whine when you lifted your dress over your head. You guided his hands to your hips again, starting to work a rhythm against him with your hips. 

“You okay if I ride you, honey?” You asked him, peppering kisses across his jaw and down his neck. Maximus nodded quickly and dug his fingertips into your pudgy hips, moving you in his lap the way that he wanted. He thinks he’s starting to get the hang of this sex thing, until you lift yourself up and he feels the warmest, softest grip he’s ever felt before. He thought your mouth was the best thing he had ever felt, until he felt the way your pussy gripped his cock alll the way down until he was buried inside you. 

“Shit, Maxie, you might be the biggest I’ve ever taken.” You mewled, leaning over his body in a way that perfectly positioned your breasts above his face. You put your weight on your hands on either side of his head, propping yourself up to start moving your hips. Grinding into him for a moment to really feel how deep he was before lifting yourself up and dropping yourself back down to test the waters with your new toy. 

Meanwhile Maximus couldn’t focus, at this moment he had completely abandoned his faith in the Brotherhood, creating a new religion in your body. Maybe he was just delusional over getting laid but he would worship the ground you walked on after this. His mouth found one of your nipples and latched onto it almost instinctively (don’t mommy kink shame me), rolling his tongue over the sensitive bud before pulling back to give the other some well deserved attention. 

You finally fell into a good rhythm, leaning back on him and grabbing onto his legs behind you for support as Maximus figured out that if he thrust his hips up just right, you’d let out a new sound. At some point you realized he had taken over, his hands digging roughly into your hips and thighs as he fucked up into you. 

Maximus grinned when he realized that not only did this feel great, it looked like you were actually enjoying it too. He was a quick learner, figuring out which ways to move his hips that would elicit the sweeeetest noises from your throat. He decided to get cocky with it and put those squire muscles to good use, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you in place against his body as he pistons his hips quicker. Admittedly becoming more sloppy, but he soon realized that it was because you had come completely undone in his arms. 

Your eyes had rolled back as soon as he help you in place, nothing but the sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your moans that were getting higher and higher in pitch. “Max- fuck- Maximus—“ you tried to warn him that you were going to cum, burying your face in his shoulder and white-knuckling the blanket as you exploded instead, a gush of what Maximus thought was piss (he would later learn that no, you didn’t just urinate on him) coating the two of their abdomens. Never deterred him though, because soon after Max had let the explosion feeling take himself over, pumping his heavy load into you. You swore you could feel it literally hit your cervix and hoped you weren’t ovulating.

Maximus kept his arms tightly around you as you laid on top of him for a moment, moving only slightly in a way that would allow his cock to slip from your velvety walls. Leaving you with the ejaculate mix dripping down your thighs. His fingers traced up your spine gently before his dropped his arm to the side, letting you get up if you so pleased. 

You did, but only after hovering your face over his to brush your lips against his in an almost-tender kiss. Your legs were shakier than you’d like to admit as you crawled off of him, cleaning yourself up a bit before wrapping yourself in your nice robe. Maximus sat up a bit on his elbows to watch you float around the room, smiling up at you when you came back to him with a wet rag to clean him off. 

“Get some sleep, Maxie.” You pressed your lips to the skin just above his bellybutton, then one against his sternum, finally one more pressed to his lips that lingered as long as he allowed it to. To you, aftercare was important to both parties, and since you were the more experienced, you’d have to teach him a thing or two about that. “You’re safe here with me, I promise.” 

Maximus watched you slowly make your way up his body, wrapping his arm back around you to pull you closer to deepen your kisses. Both of you had just exploded and yet he could still probably go again, but the exhaustion of his journey had finally hit him, and he knew he had a lot of ground to cover in the morning. He nestled his head against your bosom and closed his eyes, not used to any sort of cuddling but definitely just wanting to feel your softness as long as he could before everything got hard again. 

You had a fond smile on your face as you looked down at the man in your bed, it wasn’t often that you took a serious liking to any of the men that strolled through the saloon doors, but something about the “I can fix him”-ness of the false knight under your covers was intriguing. You wrapped your arm around him and gently traced your finger over some raised skin between his shoulders, too tired to make out what the shape was. 

You had woken up before him the next morning and had already gotten dressed and ready before deciding to wake him, a plate of biscuits and a cup of badly-made coffee on her side table. Maybe, you hoped, if you made his time really worth it he’d come back to see you again. Maybe as a customer, but you wouldn’t charge him any caps for your services. He’d be your exception, something about a friends discount. 

Maximus opened his eyes slowly when he felt a small hand massaging his back, turning his head to look towards your figure sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Mornin’, honey. You gotta get goin’, I got business to attend to.” You watched as he rolled onto his back and looked up at you fully. Max cracked a smile as he reached over to grab your face, pulling you down but leaning up to meet you halfway and capture your lips in a kiss. 

“I’m going to come back for you, I promise.” He whispered against your lips, thinking back to your conversation the night before about working there until you found a companion to guide you across the vast wasteland. He’d find the knight’s armor and return to prove himself worthy of being a knight by rescuing the fair maiden. 

“I’ll hold you to that, Maxie.” You pulled away from him and gestured to the clothes on the edge of the bed, “Get dressed, there’s a fire escape out my window. My boss will be so mad if she sees you leavin’ this late in the morning.” Maximus redressed himself pretty quick and peeled his head out the window to see the makeshift ladder hanging down the side of the building. He turned back to try and steal one more kiss, but you had already fled the room. 

a/n: ok so I wrote this at work & when I got off work I was exhausted but I neeeeeded to finish it so this went way off the rails, wasn’t expecting myself to do all that, but hope you enjoyed!

taglist: @judgementdays-girl (you requested a max fic after i had already started so here's this :))

gif by @mancandykings

dividers by @cafekitsune

[etherealily]

𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Dark. SFW, but discretion advised.

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: You're needed. Now.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

It's not like you even knew Nate.

You knew of him, sure, quarterback and shit, but still, it was unlikely your paths would ever cross.

Until they did.

Until he started following you on Instagram.

That shit... was so unbelievably odd that you almost blocked him because you thought it was a fake account. But then you saw the mutuals. Holy shit. This was legit.

The fact that his account was private didn't surprise you. Yours was public because you had nothing to post and his was private because he had everything to hide.

You sent him a request. No biggie. I mean, he had to accept, right? He was the one who followed you first - it was only fair. And if it took too long, then you could always unsend it, yeah? Yeah.

It didn't take too long. It barely took three minutes.

Okay. Cool. Weird but cool.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you. An average social media interaction. Good.

--------

Come Friday evening, you decided that watching Maddy cheer was a little less important than your deadline and building your portfolio.

She absolutely supported you (rolled her eyes and said 'whatever, nerd. You still love me, right?') but was a little upset about it (pouted and called you a cunt).

Three hours went by, and you surprised yourself with the amount of work you were getting done. This is great. Friday evening well spent. Work a bit more, and then-

Nate Jacobs tagged you in a Close Friends story.

Close Friends? Tagged? NATE JACOBS?

Okay, one : no fucking way were you on his Close Friends.

Two : there were virtually zero pictures of the two of you, so tagging you was moot.

Three : there was supposed to be a game starting about fifteen minutes from now, Blackhawks versus whatever pretentious team they were going to beat, so why the fuck was he even online?

(Oh, yeah, the Blackhawks were absolutely fucking awesome.)

The story was only text. Text and nothing more.

Y/N, accept my message request. Now. I am not fucking around.

What message request? WHAT the fuck was going on?

You frowned, immediately scrolling over to messages. Shit. There was a request.

A picture, along with six other messages.

This was so strange. It was especially strange that he found the time to text you, when he was supposed to be practicing throwing the old pigskin around for the victory of his school. But text you he did. As if him following you wasn't enough to give you whiplash. "Yo."

"You're not here." No shit, Sherlock.

"You should be."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? This was the most excruciatingly awkward interaction you'd ever had.

"You should be here. Come."

Did he think he was super macho with all this mysterious, vague, one-word bullshit he was spewing? You know what, you'd actually bet your entire school tuition he did. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking why.

"U don't just send requests to random people. Don't act like you don't know me. Don't ignore my texts."

"I'm fucking losing it. Come now or else."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

This was the most random thing to ever happen to you. Nate Jacobs, some random jock you never even said one word to, was texting you as if you had been best friends since two years old and you had always been all rah-rah-go-team for him.

You were almost scared to open the picture. Instagram asked you if you were sure. Once, twice. You should have listened. But you didn't, and you were about to face the consequences.

Red. That was the first thing you saw, and the first thing that had ever grossed you out enough to physically throw your phone away.

So much red.

Above the red, concealed almost cruelly, was a black box with white text in it. For a moment, your eyes were overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with the monstrosity in front of you that you couldn't even begin to comprehend what the words meant. You picked your phone back up, squinting your eyes and blocking out the rest.

He must have noticed you accepted his request, because you saw 'Typing...' pop up way too fast for him not to have been waiting.

"I'll cut deeper if you don't show up."

Nate Jacobs was a cruel and manipulative bastard of a man who you would happily let die.

But not like this.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You glanced at the screen and then back at the road, from time to time. There was no indication that he was typing. The 'online' sign still stayed. Okay. So he either just threw his phone away while still on your chat or he was about to-

Nate Jacobs started an audio call.

Clearly tonight wasn't going to be the night you stayed in and finished all your assignments, like you'd decided.

"Pick up or I'll fucking kill you."

Yup, that sounded about right.

You laughed, incredulously. The genuine threat wasn't lost on you, but what else does one do in this situation besides laugh at the absurdity of it all?

Better safe than sorry. You swiped up.

"Y/N, please just come."

It felt so weird to hear him say your name. It felt even weirder to hear him say 'please'.

"Why?"

"You need to be here." His voice was unwavering.

"Look, Jacobs, I'm sorry, but I have projects and assignments to work on. Not to mention, my portfolio-"

You wanted to see how far you could take it. He couldn't hear your car's sounds, and he couldn't possibly track your location, so according to him, you were still sitting at home, petulantly.

If he was joking, he'd just cuss you out drunkenly. If he wasn't, he'd... keep begging.

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, just come!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Keeping your calm was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself, the greatest form of self-care you could give yourself, because Nate Jacobs sensing nervousness was like sharks smelling blood in the water. Quick and bad.

"I have important shit, too, you know? Scouts are here, Y/N, please!"

"Look-"

"Coach, I know, just five more minutes - FUCK, Y/N, you gotta come.", he pleaded, his tone becoming far too pathetic to brush off.

"Why?"

"Why? Whaddayamean why?", he huffed out, frustrated, as if you were supposed to know this already.

2 + 2. What galaxy we live in. The colour of the sky. Why you were needed at the game. According to this asshole, all these things were common knowledge.

"I will cut deeper."

"Stop bullshitting, Jacobs."

You hoped to god that your voice didn't betray your bewilderment. This better be a sick fucking joke.

"I'm cutting."

"Stop."

"Coach says the five minutes are up, but I won't play without you here."

A video. SHIT. FUCK.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Actually, no. This better not just be a joke, because if the entire school was in on this shit, you would end up cutting him.

The grunts of pain and sharp inhales from his side of the call got more and more grotesque as you pulled into the school parking lot.

The school had an unsettling vibrancy to it after hours, and this was only exacerbated by the fact that you were supposedly the cause for a boy to slice through his own skin. It shouldn't have seemed this vibrant, this overwhelming, this vivid, this.... bright, but it did. The world moved at an eerily quick pace, like a carnival ride on LSD.

As you ran across the parking lot and gripped the gate to the stadium and basically swung right past it, you finally realized how fucking loud a crowd could be.

It was like they knew that their QB might be bleeding out because of you, because they seemed to scream loud enough to torture you for eternity.

Immediately manhandled by Chris McKay -another jock you had absolutely no connection to, but who seemed to have a very personal grudge against you-, you were pushed out of the locker rooms as quickly as you came in. Fuck's sake.

"Let me go , McKay!"

"Coach is trying to calm him down, and if he sees you, we got no idea what he might do, okay? OKAY?", he ordered, sternly, through clenched teeth as he shook your shoulders.

He was earnestly trying to be calm and gentle, but his fingers gripping harder and harder into your arms did jackshit to help his case.

"Okay."

He nodded, sighing in some emotion that seemed oddly like relief.

What, did he expect more of a fight? Did he expect you to be all 'no, I gotta see him now?'

You had no clue who the hell this bastard was, let alone what he wanted. No way were you going to kick and shout for him.

"What the fuck is his problem?", you asked, sighing against McKay's chest, exhausted.

He shrugged, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "He's stressed about the game."

"So he cuts himself in my name? We don't even know each other, dude!"

"Okay, he isn't exactly the one you go to for rationality, alright?"

"Yo, the fuck's going on, man? The game was supposed to start-"

The other team's captain.

"Yeah, we're just, uh, dealing with a situation over here.", assured McKay, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from going ballistic at Nate. Or you. Most likely Nate. But even more likely you. "Tell your coach we're so sorry, and we'll be out in a minute, tops."

The other guy scoffed, grumbling as he stomped away, glaring more at you than McKay. What, did everyone know now?

"He thinks we're trying to hook up before the game.", explained McKay, patiently, almost embarrassed. "It's a thing some athletes do, 'for luck'."

Jocks were the weirdest fucking aliens to ever exist.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Crimson traced paths through the blinding white of the bandages wrapped tightly like dependent vines around his palm. Noticing the lack of uniformity of white, Coach tsked. "We need more. McKay!"

"Yes, Coach?"

"One more, then you can send her in."

"She came?" Nate's voice, though feeble and exhausted - and now, hopeful - was heard through the tiny gap in the door that McKay made sure would remain tiny as he passed the last bandage to him, and you didn't want to admit it, but it broke your heart.

Ew. Nate Jacobs was breaking your heart?

Coach finished wrapping Nate up, and McKay guided you in, with both measured aggression and protectiveness.

Nate's eyes lifted and brightened up immensely, a feat you'd only thought possible by a lone spark igniting and breaching every inch of a dry leaf.

"You came."

"Son, I don't know what the hell you were thinking-"

"No, no, Coach, she's here, we can play."

Everyone stopped breathing at that moment. What the hell did the self-wounding quarterback asshole just say?

"What'd you just say, Jacobs?"

"We can play. Y/N's here. This isn't my good palm, anyway, so it's fine. Let's go."

And just like that, Nate was back. The amount of theses that could be written on this sheer anomaly of a man, the amount of studies that could be conducted, the amount of shock anyone else in this situation would go through- all unheard of.

No one else could handle it, though, besides all the people right there in the room. The best friend : self-taught and well-versed in handling him, the Coach : the authority figure that could calm him down with a bunch of fatherly words and....

And you : no one knew what the fuck you brought to the table. But something told you no one else would have survived in your shoes.

"Alright... then...?" Even Coach was absolutely speechless.

Nate nodded briskly, shooting up with a sudden burst of energy as he smiled at you.

Smiled.

Ladies and gentlemen : Nate Jacobs was on crack, confirmed.

He drew you in against his chest with an extremely unprecedented jerk, and you locked eyes with McKay behind him as he did so.

Not crack. Probably fent.

Your questioning gaze- which obviously said 'what in the everloving fuck is he doing?' - was met with a shrug and a look which suggested he barely even recognized his best friend right now.

"Okay, let's go WIN this motherfucker!", shouted Nate, patting your shoulder and loudly clapping his hands together before sprinting out of the locker rooms into the cheering football field.

It was dressed entirely in Blackhawk colours and bathed in a fluorescent, sickeningly pale light that you had to now spend an hour and a half in. Ugh.

Whiplash or not, you were about to throw up.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You know those moments after a surreal event? When you just... sit. Stare into space and... ruminate.

You were having one of those in your car. The game had ended, really well, too, with the Blackhawks winning by a landslide. Your windshield had never held such secrets before. You stared through it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bang.

You turned. Nate Jacobs' fist fell on your window more times than you thought was necessary. 'Unlock the door, Y/N.'

You shook your head. Not a fucking chance in hell.

"'Y/N, don't be difficult, unlock the fucking door."

Something in you told you that that would be the worst mistake of your entire life.

"I'm sorry, I just want to talk, yeah?"

You had no idea if he deliberately made it a point to rest his bandaged palm on the window in full display to manipulate you, or if it was just a coincidence.

Just a coincidence, right?

You sighed, nodding your head in the direction of the passenger's seat as you unlocked it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He slid in, grinning as he shut the door.

"You catch the touchdown?"

"Yeah. I did."

"What'd you think? Smoothest match yet?"

"Sure."

His grin gave way to a lour as he scoffed. "Why are you so cold? Our school won."

"Why am I so cold? Why am I so cold? You asshole, you just cut yourself to make me show up!"

"Because you didn't show up when I asked nicely!"

"You're a psychopath." The effect of this word on him was oddly intriguing. He seemed to both be offended by it and seemed to get off on it.

"Can I just explain?", he sighed, sucking on his teeth for a moment as he watched other students, cheering, whistling, hooting and drinking, through your windshield.

You gestured at him to continue. He wasn't worthy enough of your words.

"You know athletes have...", he trailed off, searching desperately for the right word of vindication.

"Small dicks?"

"Okay, deserved.", he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Look, we have, like... superstitions, sometimes. For luck."

"Like the hooking up thing."

"How do you know about that?"

"McKay told me."

He scoffed, shaking his head as if his friend had divulged the biggest secret, as if he had broken some moral code.

"Alright, fine, whatever. But, uh, I pretend like it's not something I do, but I kinda have them too."

If he was about to say what you thought he was going to, you were about to press into the wound just to watch him bleed again. How dare he.

"My, um, my first game, I bumped into you on my way to the locker rooms.", he admitted, clearing his throat as if to clear space for whatever he was going to say - because it was so obviously the solution to String Theory, like he was making it out to be.

But oh, shit. He actually was going to say it.

"And we won. The next game, I did the same again, by accident. Y'know, just, this time, I fist-bumped you."

"When the fuck did you-"

"You were drunk, and you were cheering all of us on with your friends. You went for McKay's fist, but I did it instead. Uh, yeah, anyway. So, from the... maybe fourth? Yeah, the fourth game, I made it a point to at least brush my arm past you. Haven't lost a game since."

Your touch was his good luck charm? Was he clinically insane? Or was he just a massive loser?

"What's next? Our rising signs are aligned?"

"It's not a fucking joke, Y/N!", he snapped, his fist clenching.

"Really? Because it's pretty fucking hilarious."

"You know how hard it was for me to even admit I had superstitions, let alone about some random nobody girl I've never even talked to?"

No, no, he was not trying to make you feel bad, no goddamn way.

"You know how hard it was for me to see some random nobody guy bleeding out because of me?"

"It wasn't that deep." The pun was intended. It was so evidently intended that you wanted to slap the smirk off his lips.

"Yeah, okay, get out."

"Okay. You better show up to the next one, babygirl, or I'll have to take more drastic measures."

The audacious son of a bitch ruffled your hair and winked before he left.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"C'mon, Y/N, don't be a cunt. Just do it. High five me. Fist bump me. Hug me. Whatever. Just do it, I've got a game to get to. And... everyone's watching."

The very next weekend, there was another game. Last game of the season. And you were supposed to be there, of course, because Nate's 'entire life depended on it.' And what's worse? He'd dragged you there, from your internship.

That's right. He'd basically come to your place of work, interrupted a conversation with your boss, and tugged you along with him because of his borderline insane obsession with having to touch you for luck.

He could have gotten away with it, too, if his 'good luck charm' theory hadn't involved you having to make contact with him right before the game.

And now you were out there on the field. Backing away from him. Refusing.

"Y/N, please."

"Fine."

You slapped him across the face, as hard as you possibly could.

The entire football field gasped.

He'd fucked up your week with the picture of the blade carving into his skin, and now, he was fucking up your career by costing you your internship. And what's worse, he didn't even care.

"Go. Play now."

He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes to suppress his rage before he opened them again. "That's not how it works. It has to be mutual. Like a fist bump. Or bumping into each other."

"Oh, okay.", you shrugged, grabbing his wrist before using it to uppercut him. "NOW go. PLAY."

You didn't know if you were being 'whoo'd or 'boo'd by the crowd, but at this point, the only thing you could hear was the red hot fury in your boiling blood.

He bit his lip as you let go of his hand, and before he jogged out onto the field, you could have sworn he said something that, if you'd heard it right, could cut through your entire soul and ruin your self-perception for years - something absolutely, shatteringly degrading.

You hoped you'd heard wrong.

Taking your seat in the stands, you scrolled on your phone, ignoring the entire fucking game. As expected, text from your team leader.

Gone. Internship gone. LoR gone. Nate Jacobs? About to be gone.

-------

He won.

He. Fucking. Won.

And that smirk that he gave you before blowing you a kiss that immediately morphed into flipping you the bird made you want to genuinely ask him to recreate that video once again.

You hated yourself for it, but yes.

You wanted him dead.

All the trauma he'd given you the past week couldn't be left unpunished.

Oh, to knock him off his pedestal. OH, to be the one to make him scream in pain instead of arrogant mirth.

"Whoo! Nate FUCKING Jacobs, baby!", he cheered in your ear as you gritted your teeth, walking back to your car. "And, of course, you."

You threw your bags into your car, ignoring him as you get in, starting the engine. He thumped on the hood of the car. "Come on, you can't still be mad! Your boss was looking down your shirt, anyway!"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?", you scoffed.

"That's right, baby, chivalry ain't dead."

"No, but you're about to be. Get the fuck out of my way."

"Hey, I need a ride. Gimme a lift."

"No chance in hell, Jacobs."

"Stop wounding me. Let me in."

"Or what?"

"I'll break your window.", he shrugged, casually. Normal things. The sun will rise tomorrow. Seasons will change. He'll break your window.

"I wouldn't be letting you in if I didn't think you were psychotic enough to actually do that."

He chuckled, sitting as he rested his duffle bag on his lap. A couple moments later, he looked up at you. "What? What are you waiting for?"

"Tell me where to go."

"You don't know where I live?"

"Okay, let me explain this to you, slowly. I didn't know jackshit about you till, like, a week ago. I didn't know your age or what kind of car you drove, or even what classes we shared, much less where the hell you live!"

"All this shit just proves that you don't observe people around you. You only care about yourself."

"If I only cared about myself, you'd have bled out last week."

He sighed playfully, resting his feet on your dashboard because he very evidently knew you would have a neurotic breakdown. "I, for one, know your age, the kind of car you drive, all the classes you have, plus your favourite colour and food."

"The first two are moot.", you replied, ignoring his silent mockery of the word 'moot'. "Next, you know I'm in all of Maddy's classes. And the rest you can find on my account. Account stalker."

"Account stalker. God, sweetheart, you're such a child. You don't want your account stalked, don't have a public one."

"I barely even post anything!"

"Oh, yeah, what about last month?"

He was looking at your profile last month? "I'd gone to France. It was a photo dump."

"It was unnecessary."

"Okay, you know what this is?"

He raised a brow.

"This is post-game audacity, is what I call it. You won. You're Mr. Big Shot, so you think you can just-"

And that's when Nate Jacobs kissed you.

To call it the worst fucking moment of your life would be a massive understatement. "Drive."

"You did not just fucking kiss me."

"You want me to do it again?"

"NO."

"Then drive."

This motherfucking bastard of a man!

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈��⋆ ═══════════════════

"You wanna come in?"

No way in hell were you going into Nate Jacobs' house. Especially when there was a party going strong.

"I'm good."

He rolled his eyes, his arm leaning on the top of the window as he leaned in. "I don't bite. Initially."

"Ooh, you don't bite initially, oh, please let me come in right now! Shut up and get in, Jacobs."

"You've earned the right to call me Nate. Congrats. Begin using it."

"Why? We're never talking after this."

He scoff-snickered. "Oh. OH, so that's how it is.", he nodded, amused.

"Yeah, yeah, that's how it is."

He guffawed, banging on the hood of your car. "This ain't funny anymore. Come in."

"What? No."

"Is there really only one way to ask you to do something?"

"No, Jacobs, don't you dar-"

But he didn't listen. When did he ever? His fingers emerged from his pocket with his knife in tow. NOT AGAIN. This was the most cunning, calculating, manipulative, Machiavellian-

"I'm cutting. This time, my wrist."

"You're so fucking dumb, y'know that? You're psychopathic."

The grin on his face showed that you were wrong. He wasn't offended. He was 100% getting off on it.

Drops of blood reached the floor, and you realized you couldn't just drive off and leave this guy here - he'd probably still be cutting just to prove a point.

"I hope you die.", you mumbled, getting out of your car and slamming the door.

"I'm trying, dude!", he laughed, pointing at his wrist. Oh, this sick bastard.

"Not dressing that wound?"

"C'mon, blood is sexy. Badass."

Nate Jacobs was about to see how 'badass' blood could really get.

And when you were done beating the everloving shit out of him, you kissed him. Because he deserved to know how infuriating that shit was, too.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you.He didn't seem to care about the fact that you hit him so hard he almost had a concussion. An average social media interaction. Good.

How it should be.

But then he texted you.

Fuck.

[writingjourney]

don't ask me about secondo ever or you will hear me rambling out a whole character analysis for two hours because I am DEDICATED to this man, he is my wife.

EDIT – Okay you did it.

Some SFW Secondo HCs:

had to deal with the highest expectations out of the brothers, being older than Terzo and a lot younger than Primo it was clear that his Papacy would be of importance and Nihil expected him to excel while not necessarily providing the necessary guidance (especially when Terzo turned out to be more rebellious in nature)

being Nihil’s “favorite” did not come with all the benefits one might suspect, no more attention, no more love or care, only more work and pressure within the clergy

outside of the family many people never realised how he suffered from this neglect and exploitation and therefore do not perceive his trauma as that, often mistake his character for being cold/aloof when really he is just masking extremely hard and trying to appear unaffected and professional

while he was prepared for his future role, he quickly realised that his needs weren’t of importance, only his work and his rise within the clergy and so he learned that it is better not to ask and appear weak (so they don’t consider him unfitting)

while Primo did the best he could to replace their absent father, the clergy’s demands on the future Papa never allowed him to be quite the father figure that he wished he could be for his younger brothers – Secondo had to learn fast how to take care of himself and how to protect his younger brother from the clergy’s influences

despite detesting the clergy’s inner mechanisms, Secondo is a man of duty and has accepted that he was put on this path in Lucifer’s name

just before and after becoming Papa he quickly learned that bringing in own ideas just leads to dismissal and that being Papa made him a vessel for the ideals of the clergy which he grew to detest (“I’m a marionette”), also quickly learned that it is wiser not to rebel against them

this made him worried for Terzo who already had a lot of plans for his own Papacy that weren’t in line with the clergy’s agenda

through it all he found a lot of solace in his faith, is the most spiritual out of all the Papas with a special fondness for the modern symbolism of Baphomet that represents balance and wholeness (“And he's as macho as he is connected to the softer, more feminine part of himself” X), something that means a lot to him who is caught in a lot of turbulent emotions, this spirituality and also his high level of literacy is pretty evident in his music

therefore: best spiritual guide/advisor out of all the Papas, knows the right quotes and the right words to provide comfort and reassurance to bring you back on your path, way more empathetic than people give him credit for based on his cool demeanour, even though he is someone who quietly reassures you and uses a more reason based approach

because of all of this he has grown to be a very measured man who will always weigh reason and emotions against each other, rarely will you see him lose his temper on the outside, being in control of his emotions is important to him because that way he can have a sense of power he lacked when he was younger (also means he cannot let loose and relax easily, this man is TENSE and his shoulders hate him for it)

if someone wrongs him that person will get the cold shoulder and honestly, being the object of his scorn is worse, disappointing him is worse than his anger and he never forgets anything, this man has a whole drawer of receipts

doesn’t hate anyone as much as himself, the top spot is however taken by his neglectful, uncaring father who never knew how to act like a parent

if he does lose his temper it will usually not be on behalf of himself but someone else he truly cares about (his brothers, his lover, his protégés etc) and even so his anger is not the loud, yelling or violent kind but the kind that sends chills down your spine (his looks alone can kill and he finds the perfect sharp words to hurt you)

soft-spoken (not quite as much as Primo though), very calculated and minimalist in what he shows on the outside but his words usually hit where and how they’re supposed to (just listen to his voice on Infest and some of his speeches on stage, it’s quiet and haunting)

very much a quality over quantity sort of person – good food, good drinks, nice clothes he can wear for a long time, simple luxuries that go a long way and add to his comfort

big earth sign energy when it comes to his habits, works hard, has high expectations, good with money, particular about how he does things but generous with those he loves

good luck trying to get this man to open to up to you, he will not overshare and you have to pry every bit of more intimate personal information out of him, especially about his childhood

however, he is a very willing and patient teacher if you want to learn about his special interests or happen to sit in one of his classes, especially if you show potential and interest

self-sabotages a lot, especially when it comes to romantic relationships, for flings he avoids anything too intimate which extends to his preferred sex positions as well as kissing, when he notices he could really like someone he will find reasons why it doesn’t work (commitment issues), scared to be hurt and also scared to inflict pain and false hopes on someone else

when he does fall for someone and overcomes his fears he is the most loyal and supportive partner, you will be surprised by how loving and gentle he is with you, by how romantic he is (not in the cheesy way but in that soft, caring way who wants to love forever), pays close attention to your needs and preferences and never forgets anything

love languages: shows love with acts of service, gift giving and also quality time, likes to receive physical touch (loves to cuddle but is hesitant to initiate, would never admit how much he loves kisses to his face and hand holding but you can tell after some time), quality time and words of affirmation (so many times until he finally believes them)

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 17

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: *Gives you a box of virtual tissues.* Just in case. 😘

Word Count: 6,000 Tags/Warnings: Macho angst ahead, hurt/comfort, major, major fluff…

Part 17: More Than Words Can Say

Mount Sinai Hospital was one of the largest private hospitals in the city. 

Fortunately, it was also the closest to Vought Tower, or what once had been the focal point of the superhero industry. It had been reduced to mere rubble and whatever dilapidated parts still stood. 

All the news outlets were covering the tower’s collapse, and speculating on what could’ve created the blast that made the entire city tremble—not unlike last year’s incident, when Soldier Boy killed the most powerful supe in the world.

In the hospital, M.M. walked through the Emergency Department until he found Yvette and her son, Devon. They sat beside each other on a single cot, now joined by Yvette’s husband Chris while she signed her discharge papers. She’d gotten off with a minor concussion and a bandage over her temple. 

“Just checking in on you guys,” M.M. said. Yvette smiled, but she asked about you. 

“She’s in surgery,” he told her. 

Yvette nodded, though tears welled up in her eyes. Chris rubbed her back and held his son’s shoulder. 

“Please call me with any news on her,” Yvette asked. 

“You got it,” M.M. said.

“And please,” she said, holding her son. “Thank Soldier Boy for us.”

M.M. paused at that. 

Seeing the family was well in hand, he returned to the trauma wing. There in the waiting room sat the whole team, minus Butcher, who’d been admitted to the hospital as well after the ED doctors didn’t like what they’d found on his lab reports. (But M.M. would look into that later. Hughie was with him now anyway.)

That left Frenchie, Kimiko, and Annie to wait for any news on you. Even Grace had arrived an hour ago. 

But M.M.’s attention was drawn to the dusty motherfucker standing near the hallway. 

Soldier Boy leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. The collar of his supe suit was undone to give his neck and chest some breathing room. He’d removed his gloves, and an empty gallon jug of water lied at his feet. 

He was covered in a fine layer of soot and grime, though he’d since washed his hands and face to the best of his ability. He was also flanked by his two hired men, Frank Cardoza and Lorenzo Rivales. 

Grace had run a quick background check on both, and as M.M. had learned, they were ex-Marines Soldier Boy had picked up in Colombia, while he was busy infiltrating a drug cartel.   

Fucking figures, M.M. thought, shaking his head as he watched the man. Grace stood and joined him.

“He’s not just gonna fuck off back to South America,” he told her. “You realize that right?”

She considered that with a tilt of her head. “Let’s just see what happens here.”

As if right on cue, your surgeon made his way down the hall and over to the waiting group. Ben pushed off the wall and went to meet him, as did Grace, Annie, and M.M. 

Annie and Ben eyed each other with mistrust and annoyance, respectively, but then he ignored her to regard the surgeon with a terse, expectant gaze.  

The doctor was a graying man in his fifties. He seemed to internally brace himself before he spoke, glancing at Ben first before the others. 

“We’ve repaired the damaged muscle around her right leg. The femur is broken. We also addressed the wound near her shoulder,” he said. “However, the rebar did nick her heart. She’ll need additional surgery to repair it.”

Ben sensed a but coming. He crossed his arms. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

The doctor gave a nod and a short sigh. 

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” he explained. “We’ve given her a transfusion, of course, but she’s in a delicate state right now.”

“So why’re you wasting time? Do your fucking job,” Ben snapped. Grace shot him a glance, but addressed the doctor herself.

“What are her odds, doctor?” she asked. Ben eyed her with a glare. She ignored him for the time being. 

“She needs this now. But, there is a chance she won’t make it out of surgery at this stage,” the surgeon replied. “The OR will be available in thirty minutes…so this would be the time to be with her, just in case she’s unable to get through this.”

“Excuse me?” Ben said. 

His tone was dark and deep with grit, and the doctor stepped back. No one dared attempt to hold Ben back, but Grace quickly thanked the doctor and urged him to move forward with prepping you for surgery. 

Loco shared a saddened look with Frank, who watched their boss with a deepening frown. 

Annie turned to Ben with a measure of sympathy, hidden underneath her irritation at his attitude and her worry for you. You were still her friend, and she felt guilty for how cold she’d been treating you lately. And she could see, at the very least, that this man cared about you. 

“Look, can you just calm down a bit? We’re all here hoping she pulls through,” Annie said. 

M.M. stood behind her, silent, supportive. But Ben just ignored her, and everyone else for that matter. 

He stalked down the hallway. And when he turned a corner, out of eyeshot, he growled and punched a hole deep into the closest wall.

Hughie perked up when Butcher finally started to rouse in his hospital bed. They had him on a hefty dose of morphine. 

He blinked his weary eyes, his head rolling over on the pillow. His lips quirked when he noticed Hughie, who was glaring at him. 

“Watching me sleep now?” Butcher remarked. “Pretty fuckin’ creepy, Hugh.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Hughie said. 

That was something Butcher couldn’t refute. He nodded. “I see they told you.”

“When were you gonna say something?” Hughie said. “When you fucking dropped dead?”

“Probably not even then,” Butcher teased. But when he took in the younger man’s face, all he saw was his little brother, Lenny. Butcher sighed. 

“Ain’t nothing any of us can do about it.”

“Fucking cancer?” Hughie said incredulously. “You could’ve gotten treatment.”

“Would’ve bought me a few more months, maybe,” Butcher admitted. That fell between them for a moment with stony silence. 

“It’s all right,” he added. “I’ve had my fucking time. Got to see the life drain from that golden cunt’s eyes…got to let my girl rest easy.”

Hughie didn’t buy that. Or maybe, he just didn’t want to. His eyes burned, both with emotion and determination. He stood from his seat and set out to find Grace. If there was anything that could help Butcher, she would know. 

While the others went down to the cafeteria for a bite to eat, Frank sat in the waiting room with Loco beside him and Dr. Baker’s briefcase on his lap.

He was sorting through its contents while Loco sat with crossed arms and slumping shoulders. He looked over at Frank’s stoic profile with a frown.

He was older, but not by much. They’d gone through one fresh hell after another together, and somehow, Frank always managed to pull their asses out of the wringer. It seemed Frank was trying to do the same for their boss. 

It was funny, actually. Soldier Boy wasn’t their first contractor. You were their first kidnapping though. Neither he or Frank had felt good about it when Antonio brought you back to the mansion in Medellin, but they’d agreed to do a job. Guarding you became part of that job. 

And yet, you had somehow reminded both Frank and Loco that they used to be respectable members of society. They used to have families, friends. They had once been soldiers. Good men. Maybe that was why they’d grown fond of you over the past few months. 

And Frank…well, Loco knew the man had his reasons for wanting to be done with this work. Loco couldn’t blame him; he was feeling tired himself. 

“Found anything good?” Loco asked in Spanish. Frank’s dark brows had drawn together in new interest.

“More than good,” he said. He looked up, but didn’t find Soldier Boy in the waiting room. “Where the hell did he go?”

Loco pointed to the reception desk. “Try asking someone.”

With a sharp sigh, Frank gave Loco the briefcase. “Guard that with your fucking life. Don’t let anyone from the CIA take it from you.”

Loco gave him a look of offense. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, bro. Fucking hurts.” 

Rolling his eyes, Frank got up and went over to the reception desk. 

“Excuse me,” he said. There seemed to be no one at the reception desk. Granted, it was late at night, and they technically weren’t supposed to be there. Grace Mallory had worked out an agreement with the hospital to allow them all to stay overnight. 

He didn’t have to wait too long though, as an on-duty nurse came over with a clipboard in hand. Her red hair caught his eye, along with her pretty smile. 

“Hi there. Can I help you?” she asked. 

Frank faltered, just for a moment. But he cleared his throat and met her eyes. 

“Did you happen to see which way Soldier Boy went?” he asked.

She gave him a wan smile and pointed down the hall, to the left. “That ‘a way. Think he had an argument with the wall over there.”

Frank followed her gaze and caught sight of the hole in the wall. He frowned. 

“Sorry about that,” he said. 

The nurse gave him a sideways look. “No worries, hun. It’s not your fisticuff outline in the wall, now is it?”

Once again, Frank didn’t know quite what to say to her slightly teasing smile. But he returned it, more reserved, but genuine. 

“Thank you,” he said, with a nod. Then he remembered then what he needed to do. 

And he took off brusquely down the hall. 

It took him a few minutes to pull his head together, but Ben eventually worked up his nerve to go and see you. 

You were still drugged out asleep, of course. He stood outside the large window of your private room in the Intensive Care Unit. He wouldn’t go in though. Part of him refused to believe it had gotten to this. 

And the reality, that this was his fault. He’d caused the blast that destroyed the tower. His fault he hadn’t gotten to you sooner.

“You are the reason I needed saving,” you’d told him once. 

You were right then, and it still held up now. 

So, no…he wouldn’t go in there, into your room. The truth was, he couldn’t. 

But Ben’s awareness prickled before he noticed, Frank had joined him. Ben tolerated it. While he wanted to be alone, maybe part of him (one he wouldn’t acknowledge) craved some kind of company. 

“You’ll get paid, don’t you fucking worry,” he said dryly. 

“That’s not the only reason I’m here,” Frank said. 

It felt like a confession. Ben didn’t reply though; he was focused on your pale face, covered by the breathing mask. Shallow puffs of air fogged the inside of it while your heart monitor clipped on.

“There’s another solution here,” Frank said. 

Ben gave him a cursory side glance. “She wouldn’t take Compound V. Not even to save her fucking life.”

“That didn’t stop you before,” Frank mentioned. 

Ben didn’t answer, but he’d been internally debating it ever since he’d spoken with the surgeon. 

“All right, get it over here,” he said. “The temporary stuff.” 

Frank rose a brow. He’d been curious enough to try testing the man. But now, he frowned.

“She won’t forgive you,” he pointed out. 

“What’re you, devil’s fucking advocate? She’ll get the fuck over it,” Ben snapped. 

But after his initial anger subsided…he knew his subordinate was right. 

“She’ll be alive to hate me,” he said, more honestly.  

Frank inclined his head. “There could be another way.” 

Ben glanced over at him. 

“She lost a lot of blood,” Frank said. Ben frowned.  

“They’ve given her fucking blood transfusions—” 

“Yeah, normal blood. A supe’s blood is stronger. Yours could probably heal her,” Frank said. “But, the only one who can break your skin is you.”

Ben eyed him in suspicion. “Who told you that?” 

“Read it somewhere,” Frank said evasively. 

Ben huffed in response, but as that realization truly sunk into his mind, his lips pressed together in new determination. He left Frank to start a brusque pace down the hall. 

He ignored the red-headed nurse calling at him at the reception desk when he shoved through a locked security door, into the OR unit. He searched until he found your surgeon and pulled him from the sink he was washing his hands in.

The man gasped with fright, though he tried to hide it looking up at Ben. “What the hell’re you doing?”

“I’m making a donation,” said Ben. He raised a blunt nail to his wrist. “You better hurry the fuck up, because I’m about to open a vein.”

It was morning by the time another doctor returned to deliver an update on your progress: the “treatment” was working. Your wounds had knitted closed within an hour following the blood transfusion, and you no longer needed surgery. They had also x-rayed your leg and found that the bone was whole once again. Even your broken ribs had healed.

Ben nodded at the news. He didn’t respond, and just started walking down the hall. Grace, Annie, and M.M. stared after him with mixed reactions of confusion and curiosity. 

“Where are you going?” Annie asked. She was exhausted; all of them were. 

The supe ignored her though. M.M. shared a look with her before he decided to follow the man. 

Meanwhile, Ben once again stopped in the middle of the hallway when he was out of view. He took in a slow, steadying breath of relief, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Congratulations. After today, you’re gonna get your statue put back up,” M.M. said.

Ben turned around to stare back at the man, schooling his face into a stoic frown. 

“Yvette and her son are going to be fine, by the way,” M.M. added, as he crossed his arms.

Ben paused slightly at that, filing that information away with secret satisfaction. 

To M.M., he merely raised a brow. “You got something to say, or are you going to keep wasting my fucking time?”  

“You think saving one black kid makes you a hero?” M.M. asked, point blank. “Taking down Vought. Saving her. What does that all mean to you?”

Ben frowned in irritation. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“Just answer the question. Be honest for once in your motherfuckin’ life,” M.M. said. “Do you really think you’re a hero?”

Silence fell between them. 

Ben didn’t know what it was about this guy. Maybe it was his persistence, or the fact that he’d pulled you out of the rubble and got you to a hospital in time to save your life. 

But Ben actually considered the question.

Killing Stan Edgar and Black Noir. Saving you. He’d done it all for selfish reasons. The kid…that was something else. His face stuck in Ben’s mind, how he’d trusted the superhero, like dumb kids were supposed to do.

But in that moment, carrying the tower on his back and knowing he was the only barrier between a mountain of hot rubble and this one kid…Ben hadn’t wanted to fail. 

And still. You are the reason I needed saving…

It wasn’t really saving the fucking day if he started it, was it?

Ben’s lips turned on a humorless smile. Still, he had saved the kid. And his mom. And you. For now, that was enough.

“Looks like I am,” said Ben.

But he met M.M.’s stare, briefly allowing him to glimpse beyond a wall of arrogance and pride.

And Ben walked away. M.M. watched him go in silent contemplation.

Grace intercepted Ben before he could visit you in the ICU. 

Christ. What the fuck now? he thought sourly. 

She gestured for a word, and with an annoyed look, he followed her down the hall.

“I’ll get to the point,” she said. “Butcher is sharing a floor with your girlfriend, down in Oncology.”

Ben raised a brow. That prick had cancer? Par for the fucking course, if he said so himself. 

“So?” he remarked. 

Grace sighed. She’d expected that reaction. “They’ve given him weeks, but the way he’s been pushing himself, more likely it’s days. Taking the untested Temp V long-term has had its adverse side effects…if you were to make another blood donation, I’ll make it worth your while.” 

So now his blood was some fucking wonder drug? Hell no, Ben thought. 

“You’re asking me to save the guy who’s double-crossed me, tried to hunt me down, tried to end me?” he said, with a dark, incredulous chuckle. “You can fuck right off, sweetheart.”

She grated at the sweetheart remark, but Grace leveled him with steely blue eyes.

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be on ice right now,” she pointed out. 

Ben’s lips pursed. He’d really like to snap this bitch’s fucking neck on principle…but then he thought about it. He could work this into his favor. 

“You know what. I’m having a good day, so maybe I’m feeling fucking generous,” he said. His mouth edged into a smirk. “But I think it’s time we renegotiated our contract. Don’t you?”

Grace stared up at him, and she inhaled a deep breath. 

“Fine.”

You slowly woke up in a hospital room, in a paper gown with an IV drip and a heart monitor. Which made sense, as the events of yesterday came back to you in a rush. 

But beyond feeling relieved to be alive, you also felt extremely well-rested. You didn’t feel like a building fell on you. 

What kind of masterful drugs are they giving me? You tried to read your chart on the wall, but you didn’t see any pain medication on there. 

Annie popped into your private recovery room. Her face brightened when she saw that you were awake. 

“Hey, hun! How do you feel?” she asked, lowering into a chair at your bedside. You wouldn’t know that this chair had been occupied by various members of the team over the past few hours, including M.M., Frenchie, Frank, and even Grace. 

“Great, actually,” you replied. But now you frowned. “I shouldn’t feel great.”

You remembered nearly being crushed under a pile of rubble. You remembered falling on a piece of rebar, and unable to move your crushed leg. You remembered the worry in Ben’s eyes… 

And panic stung at yours.

“Did they give me Compound V?” your voice shook when you asked. Annie calmed you down with a shake of her head and a reassuring hand on your arm. 

The door to your room opened once again. Ben’s frame filled up the doorway. When his eyes met yours, your breath caught in your throat. He was still in his supe suit, and with his hands resting on his belt, he strutted inside the room. 

M.M., Frenchie, Frank, Loco, and Kimiko came in behind him and at least looked showered. Ben looked like he hadn’t even done that much, nor slept all night.

“It wasn’t the V,” he said at last. “Just a little blood donation. Seemed to work like a charm.”

His resulting grin had a bit of charm in it as well. Your head tilted in confusion.

"Whose blood?" you asked.

"Mine," he said. His expression faded, slightly more serious.

You found yourself slowly smiling, though your brows still furrowed in surprise. He gave me his blood…instead of Compound V.

While you tried to wrap your mind around the gravity of that, you reached for the pitcher of water on the rolling tray beside you. You grasped the pitcher, but the plastic actually crunched in your hand. You gasped and moved your hand over so the water inside wouldn’t spill all over you.

Ben raised a brow. 

The room fell silent as all eyes stared at you. When the water finished pouring out onto the floor, you gently set it back down on the tray. 

“Seems you got some of his strength in the deal,” Annie remarked. 

“Great, there’s two of them,” Hughie quipped with a grin. 

“Well, that’s probably just temporary,” M.M. sighed. “Hopefully.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, and it brought a slight grin to Ben’s lips. 

After a bit of well wishing, everyone cleared out of your room to let you rest up…except for Ben, Frank, and Loco. 

“What are you guys going to do now?” you asked of the latter two. Loco cracked his knuckles. 

“Got another job lined up in private security,” he revealed. “I’ve lost the taste for drug running. Nearly lost a damn toe on the last one.”

You laughed. “Well, thanks for doing one more job here.”

“Anything for el Capitán,” Loco said, giving Ben a respectful nod. “He pays exceedingly well.”

You raised a brow at Ben, who shrugged with a cocky grin. Smiling, you turned to Frank, who was sitting in the chair beside your bed. 

“And you?” you asked. Frank gave you a rare smile. 

“Going home,” he said. “To my daughter.”

Your eyes began to sting, but you tried to blink away the beginnings of tears. You nodded and squeezed his arm. 

“Give her a big hug for me. And thank you again…for everything,” you said, even though you realized that thanking your former guard keep was strange. Still, there had been no part of your kidnapping that was normal in the least. 

Frank hesitated, but he covered your hand with his. 

Though he caught the way Ben’s face tightened, and Frank let go of you. He stood with Loco, giving you and Ben a final nod. Then the two men left your room and disappeared down the hall.

Part of you felt melancholy, like chapters of your life were closing. But you also felt like new ones were waiting in the wings.

Your gaze turned to Ben, who stood near your bed.

He was looking over your chart to see if the doctors needed anything else before you were discharged. But your soft voice called to him, earning his attention. You beckoned him closer.

He went over and sat down on the edge of your bed, laying a hand on your thigh. You reached out for his arm. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

Ben scoffed, though a hint of humor glinted in his eyes. “For what? Saving your reckless ass for the millionth time?”

“For saving Yvette and her son,” you replied with a smile. “And yeah, all that other stuff.” 

Your hand slid down his arm and slipped into his hand. Your fingers curled around his palm. 

“Really. Thank you…” 

Tears welled up in your eyes again. You still couldn’t fucking believe he opened up one of his own veins and gave you his blood. He gave a public hospital his blood in order to save you. 

He could’ve easily slipped you V24 again, or worse, the permanent stuff. But he didn’t just save you. He’d respected your wishes. 

What you wanted to say next got stuck in your throat.

Ben had something hiding behind his eyes, like he was reluctant to show you his real emotions. But when he focused on your face, his hand tightened on yours. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak. He only let go of your hand to brush a falling tear from your cheek. His lips twitched at a smile.

“Come on now, baby doll. You’re tougher than that.”

You choked on a laugh as more of your tears slipped down your warming cheeks. “Nope. I’m actually not.”

“Hmm. Could’ve fooled me,” Ben said. You matched his grin with a beaming smile of your own.  

Slowly, you pushed yourself up and took his dirty face in your hands. You guided him down to you, and you pressed your lips to his. 

He allowed it with his usual demanding, fervent kiss. But then it slowed. He held your wrist to keep your hand in place on his cheek, and his thumb drew bath and forth over your skin. 

You parted from him, pulling back enough to see his face. There was so much you wanted to say…but maybe right now, it was too much. 

You met him with another tearful kiss.

Before you were officially discharged from the hospital, you had one more visitor. 

Grace was once again there to debrief you. This time though, Ben sat at your side on the bed, a silent statue who regarded the woman coolly. He seemed to be tolerating her presence with more ease than usual, and you wondered why.

“You’re going on medical leave,” she informed you. “For three months, and then a psychiatrist will need to clear you for duty.”

Part of you wanted to argue, considering you were completely healed of your injuries. But you knew you needed a break from the S.A.—from all of this. 

“Your mother and sister will be brought out of witness protection soon, after we determine that the threat is sufficiently neutralized,” she said. “You can return home today as well.”

You could finally go back to your apartment…though the thought didn’t call to you as much as it should have. You glanced over at Ben.

“Is this the part where you try to ship him back to Colombia?” you asked. 

“That was the agreement,” Grace said wryly. You frowned, trying to blink away the tears forming once again in your eyes.

You didn’t want to lose him, but you also didn’t want to give up your life here. You didn’t want to leave the S.A., or your family, or your friends. Ben put you out of your misery, however.

“We renegotiated,” he said. 

Your eyes widened. “What?”

Grace explained, “In exchange for his assistance in another case, he can stay in the U.S. on a trial basis. As long as he agrees to live within the law.”

You didn’t entirely trust Grace. Ben would be watched at every moment. That was a given, but considering he still didn’t have full control over his nuclear power, you were surprised Grace would allow him free roam within U.S. borders. 

“And, provided, he agrees to a relocation. Preferably not in a densely populated area,” Grace added.

There it is, you frowned. You shared a look with him, and you could see he wasn’t entirely on board with this. You had no doubt he’d agreed to her demands by lying through his teeth. 

You turned back to Grace.

“What if he becomes a contractor for Supe Affairs,” you proposed. “There may be some fallout after Vought’s collapse, and more of their records to go through. Other labs to clear out. Ben would be a lot of help, if he’s willing.”

You glanced at Ben again. He met your eyes, then Grace’s, and he nodded marginally. He was getting bored of the heat in South America anyway. 

Grace heaved a sigh. Ben’s lips formed a smirk. 

“Oh, relax. I just ended Vought. You’d be an idiot not to cash in on that PR,” he pointed out. 

“Need I remind you that you caused the tower’s collapse?” Grace said tersely. “And you did not end Vought. There will be repercussions to this, believe me.”

Ben’s face tightened, but you grasped his hand. 

“But he fulfilled the mission,” you said. “He took out Black Noir…and Stan Edgar in the process.”

“The idea was to arrest him, but I get your point,” Grace said. Her hand raised to cover her mouth as she thought about your proposal.

Eventually, she spoke. “If you can play by our rules, then we’ll contract with you. But until you get that atomic bomb under control, you can’t remain the city. Upstate is the best I can do.”

Ben chafed at being told what he couldn’t do. What the fuck was he going to do in Upstate New York? Slowly rot to death in dusty-ass suburbia?

You shot him a knowing look, raising a brow. 

“It’s a fair offer, Ben,” you pointed out. His lips pursed in annoyance. But he glanced at your hand in his.

Then he looked up at Grace. “Fine. But first, unfreeze my fucking bank accounts.”

Ben later led you out of the hospital. There was a car waiting outside, and he got in to drive, despite you offering. He must’ve been going on very little sleep, if any over the past two days. 

And of course, he’d refused to be seen at all medically, saying he was fine. You were still concerned about that destabilizing gun Black Noir had shot him with. 

“I’m fine,” Ben had claimed. “Just need some sleep, that’s all.”

You watched his profile for a moment, and a smile started to raise your lips…until you finally remembered something that felt like a heavy stone in your stomach.

“Um…” you said, earning Ben’s attention. You looked up at him. “My father’s dead…”

Good fucking riddance, was Ben’s initial reaction. Followed by a frown, as he now realized he would never get the pleasure of choking the shit out of Jon himself. 

Ben had been fucking livid to learn from Frank that you’d been left alone in the Tower with your father while it was coming down (and Ben was petty enough to dock that little slip up from Frank’s pay). Had that asshole lived, Ben wouldn’t have put it past him to try and take you with him after escaping the building. The mere thought grated on him. 

“Black Noir killed him,” you said, heaving a shaky breath. 

That cut through Ben’s thoughts. He glanced over, watching you fight some conflicting emotions. 

“…Punched a hole straight through his chest,” you added.

Ben hummed in acknowledgement. You turned to him with a raised brow and glassy eyes. When he realized you were expecting a bit more from him, his lips pursed.

“Well, he got a quick death,” he said. “Better than he fucking deserved, far as I’m concerned.”

You sighed and leaned your head back on the head rest. Your eyes closed. 

“Goddamn it, Ben.”

Ben eyed you with a deepening frown. “What the fuck do you expect me to say?”

“How about some decency?” you asked, as a tear fell down your cheek. “He tried to apologize. But I wouldn’t let him.”

He paused at that. While he thought you were being unreasonable, it begrudgingly dawned on him what you wanted, and maybe, what you needed. He sighed through his nose. Even now, you were a handful.

Ben reached over, taking your hand from your lap. He pressed the back of it to his lips, earning your mild surprise.  

“That’s not your fault,” he said. And he briefly took his eyes off the road to look into yours. “None of it was. You understand me?”

Your face softened. Though you tried to blink away your tears, a few of them still fell. You wiped at them with your free hand, while the other squeezed around his fingers, resting against your thigh. Despite how you were fracturing inside, warmth still kept you afloat. 

So you looked up at Ben, and you nodded. He seemed satisfied by your answer. He turned back fully to the road, but you kept a tight hold of his hand. He allowed it.   

“We’ll have to go to the safe house to get our stuff,” you said eventually, with a small sniffle.

“No need,” Ben said. “That’s taken care of.”

That confused you. Was he taking you to your apartment then? 

But instead, he drove you out of the city, and an hour upstate into Scarsdale. You’d never been there, but you knew it by reputation—as one of the most affluent towns in the state.

You were even more confused when he drove down a street flanked by tall hedges within a private community. He pulled into a circular driveway in front of an immense white house, with a red brick roof, colonial architecture, a manicured lawn, complete with matching fountains lining the front door.

Ben parked the car and encouraged you to get out with him. You followed him up to the front porch, expecting an old billionaire to pop out of the tall bushes at any moment to chase you away. 

“What’re we doing here?” you asked. His hands fell to the belt of his supe suit as he surveyed the stood, the door, and the walls for anything amiss. 

“I’m looking into buying it,” he revealed, as if he’d just told you, It’s pretty fucking sunny today, huh? 

“Our stuff is ready to be shipped out when the deal closes with the owner,” he added.

Your eyes flew wide. “What? When did you have time to scope out houses?” 

You’d only been discharged about an hour after the conversation with Grace. 

“I had Frank look into some shit. He found this one,” Ben shrugged. “Could use some work, but not bad.”

Our stuff, you repeated in your mind. This house…was he trying to recreate what the two of you had in Medellin?

And more importantly, was this his way of asking you to move in with him? 

Well, there’s not too much asking going on, you thought in annoyance. And yet, you blushed; the sentiment in itself was enough to warm you. 

You brought Ben back down to Earth by grasping his hands, earning his attention from the old grout in the tile.

“Ben, this place is amazing,” you said. “But I don’t know if I’ll be comfortable living like this.”

He frowned down at you. “What the hell do you mean? You could have anything you want here. It’s safe. Got plenty of room—”

“A bit too much room,” you said, holding up your thumb and forefinger a couple inches apart. 

He looked adorably grumpy. You smiled and squeezed his hand. 

“Did you really feel cozy and at home in that mansion with fifty rooms and nobody in ‘em?” you asked.

He didn’t answer you, and he didn’t seem happy either. You didn’t want him to take this as a rejection. 

“If we’re going to do this,” you said, “then can we start a little smaller? Somewhere that feels like home to both of us?”

Ben stared back at you in annoyance. “You need to broaden your palate.”

You just managed to stop yourself from laughing.

“You haven’t had a normal home in a long time, Ben,” you replied. Maybe ever, you realized. “How about you trust me?” 

He gave you a dubious frown.

“What about this,” you tried. “Let’s pick it out together! If in a few months you still hate the new place, we’ll try it your way.” 

“You’re assuming we’re gonna make it that long.” Ben was starting to wonder if this was going to work after all. The two of you were from very different worlds. 

You offered a cheeky smile. “I’m optimistic.”

He huffed. “Sure.” 

You reached up on your toes, and gripped the front of his suit when you leaned up to kiss him. His hands rose naturally to hold you, resting on your jean-clad hips. He followed your languid kiss, his furrowed brows relaxing when you touched his cheek.

When you broke from his lips, his eyes opened to find yours. 

“I am, Ben,” you said more seriously. “I’m not playing games. This is real to me, and I want to be with you.” 

But then you hesitated. You lowered back down to your feet. 

“But if it’s not to you…if you’re just passing time with me, until you get bored,” you said, “tell me now. Please.” 

It was Ben’s turn to hesitate. It was the please that got to him, along with your downturned gaze. He captured your chin between his fingers and raised your face up to him. 

“I’m not fucking around,” he said. “I want you to live with me.” 

Your smile was soft and bright when you took his hand. Ben wouldn’t admit it, but something in his chest stuttered to life then.

“Okay,” you said with a nod. “Let’s do it.”

AN: *squeals* It's happening! We've really gotten here, folks. How'd you like how it all wrapped up with Grace, M.M., and even Butcher?

But we're not quite there with these two yet...

Next Time:

“Why’re you nagging me like a goddamn wife?” he snapped.

“Wife?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You don’t even call me your girlfriend.”

But God forbid another man even smile in your direction. Ben was possessive, protective, and claimed with all but words that you were his. And yet, he wouldn’t say it.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was afraid of commitment, but you’d been living together for six damn months.

Keep reading: THE EPILOGUE

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@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @beautiful-life-coded @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

[creepy-friday]

Life as a female proxy

Notes: I only included the main 3 minions working under Slenderman and I might write more to include more residents!

Warnings: misogyny mentions,violence,a little suggestive in Brian's part

Masky gives the impression of being "the leader" altough there isn't one,he just likes to estabilish dominance to have the feeling that he's in control and that he's top shit.

He holds a grudge against you from the simple fact that you're a woman who has a high position over the mansion and the other creeps

He can be horribly misogynistic at times,arrogant and bossy,mostly due to the fact that all the women in his life left him(including his momma)

Clockwork would put him in his place really quick,Jane just ignores him and Nina avoids him like the plague.

He likes to show off to you in any way he can,he simply craves your validation and attention and is doing anything to get it one way or another, as long as he gets a reaction out of you it doesn't matter if it's negative or positive to him

He has closeted mommy issues

Tim's other side is different,whenever this soft human side comes out he's way more chill,often even tries to form a better relationship with you and understands if you ignore him. Sometimes he feels like he's losing his mind but it became a normal feeling to him and everyone in the manor at this point.

Tim snapping back to Masky or overlapping with him became the norm,that's why he takes his pills everywhere he goes

Hoodie/Brian differs a lot from his best friend. He respects you and actually listens to your opinions and plans,especially knowing how important your abilities are to the team

His personality can be described as a cold mentor during missions,he's quick and straight to the point,but since your humanity shows more often than his he grows soft on you,he won't admit it out loud tough

He looks out for you when no one else is,and altough he's in the wrong of thinking scenarios that wouldn't happen between the two of you,he's still secretly waiting for an opportunity for the both of you to get lonely,he can help with that

He's observing most of the time,whenever Toby has a panic attack and Masky bullies him for it he won't intervene until it gets bloody or the situation calls for it

Surprisingly Brian has the highest emotional intelligence out of the other proxies

Toby is a mess when it comes to you. At first he wanted to show off by being a big macho stupid boy,knowing you're kinda stuck with his ass so he wanted to profit off of it

Since all women except the ones from his family showed more disgust than interest in him,he became insecure,especially now with the scar on his face and how sickly he can look from time to time

Toby had crushes on girls he found pretty during missions but every chick rejected him whenever he had the balls to come to them

If you show him a grain of warmth and basic human respect his brain will automatically assume he has a chance with you

He already thinks he can have a chance with you tbh,he can be delusional to himself. He would be shooked tough if you ever tell him that you do indeed find him cute/likeable, a nice person like you with a freak like him would make a good joke,or so he thinks.

He snaps more often around you and that makes him even more anxious because of how he views you/his feelings towards you platonic or romantic,it's hard to make the difference

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE! ALPHA x DEMON! READER ( PART ONE )

inspired by those ABO BLs where the MC avoids the ML lol.

tw/cw : ABO Dynamics, Fantasy-Modern Setting. Angst. Dom! Reader. GN! Reader

“Why are you avoiding me?”

You were a Dominant Alpha. The same as Kasumi, or so he thought. For some reason unlike the usual, your smell attracted him. Kasumi hated the pheromones of others ever since he first presented, but the way you smelled always made his knees weak and his body heat up uncontrollably.

He loved you, he knew that a long time ago. He also knew that whatever you became he’d still love you.

He just didn’t expect the two of you to be so incompatible.

“Did it feel that way? I’m sorry.” Despite your words your eyes failed to meet his. “I’ve been seeing this omega lately. Perhaps I was just too distracted by them.”

You always loved rubbing salt into the wound. As if the rumors between you two weren’t enough, you constantly reminded him that you two are and will never be together as long as one of you continued to be an alpha.

What hurt the most was the fact that you knew of his feelings and still acted this way.

He didn’t mind it if society- hell even the world - didn’t want you two together. But when you so blatantly rejected him it never failed to bring him to tears.

Most already laughed at his lack of experience and knowledge in comparison to other macho alphas, if they knew he always cried just because of one person. . .

“My partners have always been beta you know. Sex with them was alright, nothing too mind-blowing. But with an omega,” Your face was covered in pink, ecstasy written all over it.

And then you leaned forward to whisper into his ears, “I can fuck them all day.”

Kasumi couldn’t help it. His blood vessels expand as a rapid torrent of hormones entered his body. Anger, lust, sadness. You toyed with him for far too long.

Before he could even think his hands were already on your throat, squeezing down on it with an intent to kill.

“Why . . . why do you keep doing this to me?”

Despite the lack of air entering your lungs and your ensnared state, the smirk on your face does not falter, “Kasumi, don’t you know?” Your eyes glowed a menacing scarlet as you started cackling. Blood spurts from your mouth from the force of both yours and his actions.

“Pleasure is sweetest when it’s paid for in other’s pain.”

[queenie-avenue]

Kissed by Aphrodite.

💌 ⤻ft. THE CEO, THE CHEERLEADER, THE BASEBALL PLAYER, THE ACADEMIC RIVAL

—> how they look in the mirror.

⤻ no content warnings, basically. just how the yanderes look and their favourite feature of themself

notes: i felt a bit lazy this time and decided to make a small post, sorry yall.

🦋 ⤻ archives.

💌 ⤻ THE CEO, ADRIAN HOUDE.

Many articles have regarded him as the top bachelor, not just because of his money, but because of his looks. A handsome actor or celebrity is easy to come by, but a handsome CEO? It's a bit hard. Just look at all the rest of the CEOs alongside Adrian, who have bald heads.

Unlike them, Adrian has a full head of luscious blonde hair inherited from his grandmother. You know those hairstyles on 1950s men in those posters? Adrian's hairstyle is similar to that, if not just a slight bit more tousled.

His eyes are icy blue. With warmth only present in them when you're around. His eyes are hooded and sharp.

He's clean shaven with no stubble at all, and he wears a bit of makeup to hide the blemishes on his skin. Nothing is more attractive than a man who knows how to look presentable. He likes to wear a chapstick with just a hint of tint, just to make himself pop a bit more. He has a rather pale complexion. His jawline is sharp and strong, and his nose is straight with the base slightly upturned. His lips are slightly downturned, but his eyes are always smiling.

When it comes to smell, he probably wears a very stereotypical cologne of Tom Ford. However, there's always a hint of mint of him.

💌 ⤻ THE CHEERLEADER, KATIE WILLIAMS

Katie is the stereotypical pretty cheerleader, but it's not her looks that draws people in the most — though it certainly helps — is probably her ability to charm and manipulate anyone into doing her bidding.

Katie has really dark skin, and she wears it proudly. Her foundation and concealer is always dewy and bright as opposed to matte.

She loves makeup, looks like the 'cold girl' makeup, paired with some bold eyeshadow. Her eyes are double-lidded and are of a rounder shape with false lashes always on them. Sometimes, it's like she never takes them off. Some of her roommates in her sorority like to make funny rumours about it to tease her.

Her lips are plump, and, like a 2000s girlie, she loves wearing shiny lip gloss and lipstick. She doesn't overline her lips, though. They're big enough.

Her hair is naturally curly and she takes good care of it, like any other part of her appearance. She likes to wear her curly hair in space buns with little pom poms in her scrunchies. She really loves selling that cheerleader look as much as possible.

Her perfume is from Bath and body works, and she likes to experiment with it. She finishes most of her products every two months and will show up to class with a new perfume. Some of the girls in the school like to mirror her perfume too when she gets a new one. She's that popular!

💌 ⤻ THE BASEBALL PLAYER, JESPER HARGREAVES

Jesper is a brunette, and his hair is always tousled and fluffy. Even when it's wet, it has that bit of volume in it. He styles it everyday with a bit of gel but it always gets messy during practice. If you both are close enough in your relationship, he likes when you style it for him.

His skin is slightly tan from hours of playing in the sun but he makes sure to wear sunscreen, especially after finding out from videos that not wearing sunscreen can cause skin damage. He cringes everytime he remembers how he rejected sunscreen, deciding he was too 'macho' for it.

He has rather soft features for a guy. If he had a skinnier body, people would no doubt mistake him for a girl. He has soft rounded eyes with double eyelids, a cute button nose and heart-shaped lips and bushy eyebrows.

When it comes to scent, he's pretty basic about it. Just deodorant is fine with him. He's particular about sunscreen, but when it comes to shampoo and all, he's the type to use a 3-in-1.

💌 ⤻ THE ACADEMIC RIVAL, SEO MIN-JUN

Min-jun looks like your stereotypical Korean boy. Sure, he's basic, but he knows how to style well so he goes from average to god-like. He has permed his hair and gotten it a bit more fluffy and curly, the bangs swooped to the side to compliment his face shape.

His skin is pale and soft from all the skin care products and sunscreen he uses. He has a bit of a bigger nose and mono-lidded eyes — he's a bit insecure about these traits, give him compliments about it to make him feel better — but very pretty lips and a somewhat sharp jaw.

He has black eyes and black hair, but when he's alone, he likes to wear some contacts to play around with it. He does wear contacts on a daily basis though, but they don't add any colour, it's mainly to help with his eyesight because glasses give him a migraine and he can't find any shape that compliments his face well enough. Can you tell he's vain?

For scent, he probably wears a custom perfume made by some shop.

[scienceandstorytelling]

I can’t stop thinking about Will Branner’s performance as Max Jägerman and how it leads to my favorite usage of the Nightmare Time leitmotif in all the Hatchetfield musicals (and why I voted for NPMD as having my favorite title number in the poll I made a while back).

Max is a well-written character who already gives me hints of a tragic villain vibe, and then Will’s performance just fleshes that out tenfold. It features the duality Starkid has been playing a lot with in this series, where you’re sympathetic towards a character while also acknowledging the terrible things they do. Max is horrible and abusive towards his classmates and has given them years of trauma. But a teenage boy does not become a Literal Monster in a vacuum.

Alongside his role as a bully, the script gives us images of Max as someone who is struggling academically and would have probably fallen through the cracks if adults didn’t idolize him for his football prowess so they can live vicariously through him as he beats the rival town in the big game. We find out that he has a shitty dad who verbally abuses him for not being macho enough. That he probably doesn’t have all the sex people say he does. That the people he bullies hate-pranking him in revenge is “the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for [him].” And then Will’s acting keeps showing us glimpses of this goofier side of Max, glimpses of the person he might have been if he wasn’t such a bully.

And for those few moments in the aftermath of the prank, you think maybe he’s going to change now that someone has shown him what he perceives to be kindness. And then he falls through the floor and that opportunity is lost. But unlike what Mayor Lauter implies, I would argue that his fate isn’t fully sealed when he dies in the Waylon House. I think the moment of no return is when he kills Richie while the leitmotif plays.

Lots of people ship Max and Richie and have headcanons that they used to be friends, and I think it’s because of the parallels between them in this song. Here we have two 18 year old boys who have both been failed by the adults around them. Both are harmed by being stereotyped. Both are in the liminal social role of being in the process of stepping out of childhood and into living their adult lives after high school. And both of them are denied those adult lives. And then they fucking sing about it. The “will you pray for me” duet is such a powerful part of the song for many reasons, and I think it’s the moment that shows us that Max is still in the process of committing to being nothing more than a vengeful spirit, or at the very least is in the last stage of that process. The thing that strikes me the most is that Max is simultaneously trying to make Richie feel insignificant and alone while also projecting his own feelings onto him. “Is this the eternal dark without a dawn?” he asks, reaching up to the sky and not looking at Richie at all.

And what fucks me up is that Max fails in this moment. Richie is not alone. He never was, and now he’s even less alone. Not only will Pete and Ruth mourn him, so will Max’s former friends. Its so notable to me that this takes place immediately after Go Go Nighthawks, where we’ve just seen everyone, including, again, Max’s “friends,” sing about how great it is that he’s gone. It’s a real Ebeneezer Scrooge moment that makes me wonder if Max has been silently haunting the school these weeks since his death and it’s only now, having watched that, that he tips over into full villain mode. Max is the one with no one to pray for him, not Richie. And Richie basically says as much, and Max kills him anyway. Richie was doomed from the start in the sense that the show literally opens with a flashforward to his death, but I think Max is doomed too. “Don’t need no one to tell me high school will be my peak,” he says in his own introductory song. I said before how they’re both on the cusp of living their whole adult lives, but I wonder if Max had trouble seeing himself that way. He already didn’t think he would amount to anything after high school. A lot of these “peaked in high school” football star characters spend their adult lives being metaphorically stuck in high school, in their teenage years, because they can’t let themselves move on from their glory days. And here Max is, literally stuck in his teenage years forever as a ghost - but not literally stuck in high school, as we see when he follows them all to the Witchwood. When he makes he grand ghostly return he says to Richie, “I’m free!” (Free from what, Max?) He certainly has the freedom of a ghost to go anywhere and do anything. And yet he traps himself in high school. He prevents himself from moving forward. And all of that is why it makes me emotional every time when he casts aside any last chance of not being the villain and strikes the first blow on Richie, these two teenagers failed by the adults and the structures around them, their fates locked together, while the leitmotif plays and takes us back to that original line from Alice’s corpse singing to Bill about how he should have been a better father: Look what happens, nightmare time.

[mixedupmelody]

tough guy.

notes: someone needs to seriously make an effort to bruise these guys' ego a little. the t-birds in GENERAL need to come with a warning sign saying "Will Not Show Affection in Public".

contains: danny zuko x gender neutral reader , kenickie murdoch x female reader

characters: danny zuko, kenickie murdoch, t-birds and pink ladies (briefly mentioned)

warnings: swearing, suggestive themes and dialouge

. ☁️ .

꒰ danny. ꒱

“ 'S cool with me, baby. ” Danny holds a hand around your waist, taking care not to look into your eyes. God, he could stare at them for hours. He'd live a happy life if all he ever saw was those eyes. But he can't look at you. Not now. The T-Birds stare at him, almost as if they were waiting on their leader to slip up and say something cheesy. “ I'll see you after school, beautiful. ”

You press a quick kiss to his lips, before walking off to your next class. You knew his status meant something to him, and weren't trying to put him in an annoying spot with his friends. Danny's shoulders relax as you walk off, eyes trailing after you as if he could keep you next to him with his mind.

Danny is the leader of the T-Birds, so he's held to a somewhat higher standard than the rest of the guys. Out of all of them, he's suppossed to be the most macho, the most hard-headed, and the most gutsy member all into one. In between all the turf wars and fights at school, he's the face of their gang that let's everyone know he means business.

And then you came along. You managed to break through his tough exterior and unlock a sweeter, more sensitive side of him. He couldn't help but feel like a total melvin each time he dressed up nice to bring you flowers, or when he put his best efforts into not getting fresh with you when you invited him to your place to study after school.

To him, it's all worth it. Just seeing that smile on your face is enough to keep him going through the exhaustion he feels trying to keep his pure, romantic advancements under wraps.

꒰ kenickie. ꒱

Kenickie's hand reaches dangerously close to your ass as you sit with him at The Frosty Palace. As the T-Birds and Pink Ladies chat at their shared booth, Kenickie made sure to show off that he was a certified ladies man. And what better way to show that than messing around with his girl while they ate?

“ If these jokers keep this shitty conversation up, i'll just have to take ya' home for some real fun. ” You could tell he was practically working overtime tonight. With all those notes you left in his lunch, you were more than sure he was trying to make up the jokes he was subjected to. It's not that he really cared what the guys would think, they knew he would knock them out before they had the chance to flap their gums for too long, but it was a matter of dignity!

Kenickie Murdouch would rather die than let the guys think he's gone soft. He's a rockin', smooth talkin' rebel who's all bark. At least, until he started going steady with you. He feels all mixed up, wanting to treat you nice while also having to be on the look out for the other T-Birds.

God forbid you ever give him a tender kiss in front of his friends at school, or make him quiet a quick "i love you too" when you part ways in the halls. The guys will rip on him for as long as Kenickie will take it, making obnoxious kissing noises and jokingly threaten to take his second-in-command spot.

If they push him too far, he'll switch right back into greaser mode, and threaten to knock the living daylights out of them. They shut up quickly after that.

There's been at least one instance where you and Kenickie were on a date at The Frosty Palace, sharing a milkshake. As you two are talking, he laughs, slamming his hand on the table, and the milkshake splashes on the tip of his nose. When you go to clean his face for him, the other T-Birds barge in through those glass doors. It almost feels unreal how accurate their timing is. You hear a chorus of "oooo!"s as you clean his face, trying your best to calm your boyfriend down before he loses his cool.

You don't see his walls go down often, even when you're by yourselves. Give him time.

[prontaentrega]

@fluctuating-fixations It's mostly about some specific word choices that don't really change the plot or the whole direction of the story so it's not like, an entirely different book, but they alter the whole tone of it and makes it worse to me. The first thing i noticed I didn't like about it was when Valentín first mentions Marta and he says "my girl" i immediately went he would not fucking say that!!!!!

In the original Spanish the word he uses for Marta is "compañera" which translates to partner or comrade (F). It's not the most common word to talk about your girlfriend in spanish so it's a deliberate choice on his part. What was the need to change it? to make it sound more natural? to make him sound less political?

In that same page he goes on to talk about his guerrilla comrades and he actually uses the word compañeros for them. The masculine/neutral form of the word he uses for Marta

But the one that really annoyed me is this one

Because in this part the word he uses in Spanish is, again, compañera. And idk about you but i think it has a completely different meaning if you say "if she's my woman, it's because she's in the struggle too" or if you say "if she's my comrade/partner, it's because she's in the struggle too." And besides he would never call anyone "his woman" it's just completely contrary to his whole character... this and a bunch of other small stuff like it mischaracterizes Valentín as more of a macho figure than he really is. And this is an issue i have with literally every adaptation and translation of this book tbh everyone's always so fixed on making this college educated communist latino more violent and sexist and angry. I wonder why

This one's minor but it also bothers me, when talking about the panther woman movie there's a character that in Spanish is "the architect colleague" but in English she's "the assistant" ????? what reason was for that other than misogyny

Maybe this is a non-issue and I'm nitpicking but with the book's narrative being exclusively a dialogue between two people, word choice is fundamental because this is the only way we have of knowing these characters. And especially on a book where gender expression and gender roles are such a main theme this is not like, getting mad because they switched coffe for tea on a sentence. Which I'm also mad about btw. They completely ditch any mention of the characters drinking mate and switch it for tea. Once again I'm asking what was the point? to make it all less exotic? to make it easier to understand to English speakers? having to look up what a mate is or just guess it from context isn't gonna kill anybody, but the translation is so afraid of alienating its gringo audience that it discards cultural context and reduces its only two characters to shallower versions of themselves. And I'd say the cultural context is pretty relevant because this is a book about two political prisoners under a dictatorship that was written and published when Puig's own country was under a neoliberal dictatorship. It's not Vonnegut's cat's cradle with a made up dictator in a made up country, this was actually the situation in Argentina in 1976.

And obviously someone who only speaks english won't notice any of this. What makes me sad about this is that none of the problems i have with it have to do with impossible cultural clashes, it would be extremely simple to fix all of that. It's a tragedy that the only english translation of a latin american book about gender and propaganda was made in 1976. But still I'd rather someone read the book even with the bad translation than not read it at all

[twigg96]

If u havent already done it,, hcs for dethklok w a very physically affectionate s/o ? Like one that is always down to cuddle n stuff

Hello my sweet Anon! No I haven’t written anything like that yet!! I hope you like these HCs

Nathan - While Nathan himself is a gigantic teddy bear who is touch starved beyond belief. He does find the act of being propositioned with cuddles and touches to be bloody vomit inducing for several reasons. The first being that cuddles and intimate touches took just that... intimacy. And truth be told Nathan wasn't the best when it came to that realm of being. Sure he could pretend. But he hated how nervous he became when his leg touched his partner's, uncertain if the tingles of excitement he felt were ever reciprocated. He hated how sweaty his palms became holding his SO's knowing full well that they could feel just how moist he was becoming just thinking of where that could lead. Marriage and kids of course... and he hated that his mind took him down a futuristic rabbit hole that got his heart broken more times than he ever realized. But his partner... never seemed to mind. Their head on his chest during movies they listened to his heart beat and breathed with him through the panic. Kissed his sweaty knuckles and eased a hand over his bouncing knee. They whispered that they were scared too. But that was an important part of intimacy no one ever talked about. The anxiety and the fear that came with every touch the one that eased with time and with every breath shared until it was hardly noticed anymore and soon two souls became one.

Pickles - The little drummer was not a man who was overly touchy to begin with. People could thank his abusive parents and sketchy past for his fear of intimate touches. He'd duck away from a hug faster than most at the beginning of a relationship. He wasn't repulsed by touches. He'd probably even pull his partner in for hugs and cuddles. But he had boundaries he expected his partner to understand and respect just as he knew his partner had their own he would respect over anything else. There were times that he would pull his partner into his embrace all day. Most of those times alcohol or other substances were involved, other times he or his loved ones were in a heightened emotional state. He hugged people the tightest then with all his heart and soul. He held them to tell them he was there. He wasn't going anywhere. Burying his face in the crook of their neck, his beard scratching against the skin of their neck he held them tight to help them relax. And when his asthma hit and his anxiety washed over him the most was when he needed his partner to step in and return the favor.

Murderface - William likes to pretend that he is as macho as they come. And sure he pretends for a while. He pretends that he's a sexual extraordinaire, has a 20 meter defeater, and lives without a single fear in the entire world. He pretends for a while when he first meets his partner... because he never expects to catch feelings. He ever expects to see them again. But the fact of the mater is... Murderface is entirely too scared... for much of anything when it comes to anything intimate with his partner especially when he starts a relationship with his partner. It takes a long time for him to open up to his partner. To let them touch him so intamatly and with so much trust that they won't hurt him. Because the truth of the matter was that was what he was scared of most. Getting close. Comfortable. Then being discarded and forgotten like yesterday's trash. He hated that feeling. He hated it more that he had grown used to it. So when the couple were watching one of his favorite movies... maybe a boring documentary and his partner's full attention was on the screen not on their phone, not talking to some other guy... he felt himself grow comfortable... wrapping his arm around their shoulder he pulled them close kissing their temple.

Skwisgaar - For the Swede cuddling and touching came in the form of sex so often that he became complacent to the idea that cuddling only came to those in the throws of passion. When his partner tried to hug or hold him in public it sprang to life a problem the blonde had to either excuse himself to the bathroom for. Although many times he simply would try to pull his partner into the alleys and closets to get some alone time. One night when his partner comes to bed they wear the most revealing clothes they could find, crawl into bed and cuddle up close to him, their fingers ghost his skin as they lay sweet kisses across his collar bone, neck, and jaw. Just when Skwisgaar is positive he's getting lucky, his partner pulls away. Touch therapy. That's what they call it. They want to retrain his brain into learning they can touch him without always getting laid. At first he fights the idea. Then his partner cuddles close once more telling him to close his eyes. He does, not because they said so of course... but because he was getting blue balls and it hurt... But... eventually he understood. The quietness, the sensuality without the sexuality... it was nice. Comfortable.

Toki - This boy is just as touchy feely as his partner. It makes other people uncomfortable how clingy they are to each other. Stage 5 clingers would not be a stretch to describe either of them. Velcro Partners. If they're seen apart it's not because either of them want to be alone.

[missmielyhoran]

Tired eyes are the death of me

Little freak part 2

in which Autumn likes her twin brother's best friend, and maybe he likes her too...

[Warning- Angst (are we even surprised at this point?), Smut🤭, Making out, dry humping, thigh riding, handjob, asshole Harry as always, insecurities, depression]

Masterlist // Series Masterlist

*****

Schools have the most depressing hallways after hospitals. The bright walls and lines and lines of lockers with kids roaming around talking, pretending to be happy but inside everyone was dealing with some shit.

The bright lights and walls did nothing but give you headaches.

You walked down the hallway, your locker being the last one in the corner. At least your locker didn't look depressing. It had a bunch of marvel and Harry Potter stickers, giving you the typical image of "the nerd."

You took out the books for your class when you heard that distinct laugh. His laugh specifically. Peeking from the corner, you saw Harry with his friends except your brother standing in a group talking.

"What about Autumn?" You hear a boy ask. Your ears perk up hearing your name. You saw the boy smirk while Harry's face contorted into something borderline disgust.

"Ohh, she got nice ass." Another boy said who you didn't recognize. Your face mimicked Harry's and contorted into disgust. You wanted to puke your guts out.

"She's Asher's annoying little sister," Harry says before anyone can add anything to it, making your heart sink.

"I heard my name." Your brother sing songs walking towards the group.

"Eric was saying your sister has a nice ass." The first boy spoke, "You wanted to take her to the dance! You brought her up!" The second guy who you know now as Eric said.

Your brother's face changed colors so fast it would put chameleon to shame. He went from shocked to disgust to angry. Looking at his face, you could tell he was about to lurch onto both of them.

"Asher!" You walked towards the group of boys ignoring Harry. Asher's attention was brought to you, and he walked towards you but not without glaring at both boys and giving their shoulders intentional shove.

Asher wrapped his arm around your shoulder and started walking towards your class, "How many times I have told you to just text me, and I will come to you. I don't want you around them, and it's last time I'm telling you this, " Asher said sternly.

"Yeah Yeah, macho man always there to save me. They're not going to eat me alive" You said stopping in front of your class.

Asher turned and looked at you, his eyes hard, "Yes they will. Just do as I say, Autty. I will buy you ice cream on way back home." He sighed.

"I'm not a child." You rolled your eyes at him, "I want chocolate one, though." Asher laughed and walked towards his own class. Harry was behind him, walking towards the same class as yours. He gave Asher a wave and looked at you, and smiled.

You ignored him and walked inside.

*****

Turns out Harry is a very hard person to ignore, especially when you're consciously trying to ignore him.

It also doesn't help that he was sitting in the line of your vision. Every time you looked up towards the teacher, the back of his beautiful curly hair would be in your way.

The whole day went by like this. You never realized how many classes you two had together, mostly cause you were just happy that you got more time to stare at him, but it was torture.

It was English AP class, his seat was right next to you, and you wanted to die. He was far yet so close for you to smell his cologne, the musky earthy smell, like soil after rain.

He was green afterall.

You sat through the whole class like Edward in Twilight movie when he first smelled Bella. But the end was the worst.

"I'm passing out the assignments, and whoever is sitting beside will be your partner," Mrs. Willson said to the whole class. Everyone started mingling reading their respective assignments.

You looked at your other side where some blonde was sitting, but she had already mingled with someone else. Sighing, you turned to Harry on your other side. He was looking at you with monotone expression. You looked him in the eyes, and he sighed and stood up. "We will do this over the weekend," He said.

You thought he would leave after that, but he extended his hand toward you. You went stiff like a statue, looking up at him with wide eyes, then he took out a small piece of paper from your hair and left.

He will be the death of you.

*****

Research says lonely people take hot showers to replicate the warmth of the body they miss, and to some extent, you thought it was true considering the water you just took shower from fogged up the whole bathroom.

You went on with your usual routine, trying not to think about the day at school or that there is a mirror behind. The temptation to look was real, but you were not giving in. Not today.

You put on a tank top and loose shorts forgoing bra cause it was hot as Satan's ass and you just took a hot shower on top of that.

You walked outside calmly, taking your hair out of the towel. Just as you look up after removing the towel from your head, you see a figure sitting near your window and almost scream before they shush you.

They stood up and walked towards you, the moonlight hit his face and you saw Harry smirking cockily.

"What the fuck? What is this some kind of new prank you and Asher are pulling on me now?" You whisper yell at him cause it was late and quiet, and you didn't want to wake up your mum.

"Asher doesn't know I'm here." He shrugs and stands a step away from you. The moonlight was hitting his back, making his face glow in soft light, his hard features looking soft and playful. The green in his eyes was yet so visible in your darkened room that it knocked out all the breath in you.

Asher's annoying little sister

You took a small step back, keeping your guards up. "Then why are you here?" You turned around towards the shelf, holding all your creams and stuff. You took out body moisturizer and started putting it all over your hands, waiting for him to reply.

"We have project together," He said, making you laugh.

"And you think" You looked at the clock, "11 in the night is the right time to do it?" You turned around and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"No, I just wanted to remind you," He said, moving closer. You took a step back, looking up at him in the eyes, your heart beating out of your chest, "You ignored me whole day." He spoke again with his eyes flicking between your then staying at your left one.

"Yeah well who cares?" you whispered, annoyed by his hot and cold behavior, "I'm just Asher's annoying little sister." You threw his own words back at him. For a second, he looked taken back, but it was gone in a moment and was replaced with a glint, like he was enjoying all of this.

He took a step towards you again, and you took a step back. Your back met the wal, and you breathed out a shaky breath. He was so close to you, the closest he has ever been. His chest was almost touching yours. You could feel his breath on your face and smell the same cologne that haunts you.

Harry brought his hand up to cup the left side of your face, and you melted in it like an ice. The warmth of his hand and the way it was almost swallowing your whole face made you whimper.

"You're annoying" He whispered, "Very fucking annoying" He dipped his head down so it was same level as you, "So fucking annoying you won't leave my head" He exhaled shakily like you.

You were looking him straight in the eye. The shock was drowned by the look of hunger in his eyes and the way your thighs were sticking together from your arousal.

You dared to remove your eyes from his face and look down on his lips. You looked back up quickly, feeling embarrassed, but you didn't have time to think cause soon his lips were on yours and you were trying to breathe properly.

His lips were soft, what started as a frantic mess of lips turned into soft, slow dance of tongues. His grip tightened on your jaw as the time went by while yours gripped his shoulders in need.

He pulled back, resting his head on your. Both of you were out of breath, panting with eyes closed. Harry opened his eyes first looking at you, and as soon as you opened your eyes too, his was picking you up and walking towards your bed. He sat at the edge of bed, and you, in his lap, you could feel the hardness near your thigh, which made you more needy than before.

You pushed your every thought and insecurities deep in and did what your heart (pussy) said.

His lips met yours again, much needier than before. You didn't even realize you were grinding on him before he let out a groan. You stopped for a second, realizing what you had done, so you did it again. The hard fabric of his jeans felt amazing over your covered clit.

Both of you were sweating and panting but not daring to break the kiss. Your head started feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the shivers running up from the core.

His lips went south to my neck, and I titled it sideways to give him more excess. His hands were now on my hips, guiding me as I rolled them.

He stops abruptly and pulls back, looking at me with swollen parted lips wet with saliva. You could see his pupils blown black even in dark, and it made you shiver in excitement.

You looked down at him with the same expression, your bottom lip caught under your teeth in anticipation. There, he was sitting in your room on your bed with you on his lap, making out. You were making out with your childhood crush! It felt like a fever dream.

"Fuck" He curses, his hand sliding up from your hips to straps of your top. You freezed at that. Although the thought was very arousing, it was scary. You haven't been with anyone ever. Hell, you even had your first kiss with Harry when you kissed him out of nowhere the other day.

Harry caught onto your inner turmoil, and his face softened a bit. You tried to relax your muscles so you won't feel so exposed in front of him but you couldn't do anything.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked, his voice not going anywhere above a soft whisper. You gave him a nod, your fingers playing with his t-shirt's neck.

"Can we leave the top on?" You asked shyly. Here you were sitting in front of the coolest boy in the whole school feeling shy to take off your clothes. Maybe that was why you never told him he was your first everything but somehwere he knew.

He smiled and pulled you closer, "Jesus christ I thought I did something wrong" He shook his head and pecked your dip of throat, "Ofcourse we can" he said and went back to kissing your neck and collarbones. He didn't leave any marks knowing you had school and then your brother, but he couldn't stop himself from sucking particularly hard at the spot on the curve of your neck when you rolled your hips again.

He pulled back his lips after some time and feathered a few in front of your throat while you kept rolling your hips. He was going crazy and the clothing between was driving him mad. He gripped your hips to stop you, which made yoh whine, and he almost came in his pants.

"Get up for a sec, Autty." He panted out, seeming to never be able to catch his breath.

You scarmbled back with confused and scared expression, "Omg, did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry, Har I-" He cut you off by pulling you against his lips again.

"You talk a lot" He rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face. Harry, while keeping his eyes on you scooted and pulled down his sweatpants. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your sockets when you saw his toned thighs with a tiger tattooed on it. You knew he had tattoos after seeing him in tanktops and shirtless if you were lucky.

Now he was here on your bed only left in his boxers with a very noticeable buldge. Life is wild.

You licked your lips and looked up at Harry through your lashes. He had a cocky smirk on his face, obviously feeling flattered by your staring.

"C'mere" He motioned with his fingers, you took shy steps forward not really knowing what he had in mind but you couldn't complain about it. When you were close enough he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your shorts.

"Can I?" He asked. You bit down on your lips as your eyes flicked between his thighs and then towards yours. The room was dark, so there was no way he would be able to see you properly unless he fixates on it.

You gave him a nod and a breathy 'yes'. He pulled your shorts down along with your granny panties softly and threw them somewhere in the room. His fingers running up your leg caused goosebumps to arise, and you shuddered.

He pulled you down, so you were straddling him again, but then he shifted, so you were straddling only one of his thighs.

"Go on baby, move those hips, take what you want," he said near your ear. You moaned, hearing his crude words, his teeth biting your ear lope, then small nips down the side of your neck. You started rolling your hips again. The lack of clothing made the sensation ten times better.

"Fuck you're so wet" Harry graoned at the feeling of your slick wet centre against his thigh. His hand went from your arm to your lower back, pulling you more towards him. You kept rolling your hips the pressure against your clit feeling euphoric.

Your head fell on his collarbone, panting against his chest while he kept his lips on your neck or anywhere he could. You opened your eyes and saw the uncomfortable bludge in his pants. The snug boxers did nothing to hide the small wet mark that was growing.

You chewed on your lips, thinking if you should go for it or not. You didn't know what to do and how to do anything, but you had watched porn and read smut. It had to help somehow. How much bad it can be?

You pulled back a bit and looked at Harry. Sitting on his thigh made both of you at the same level. You kept your eyes on his when you slid your right hand from his shoulder downwards. Harry's eyes widened when he realized what you were doing, but he didn't stop you, so you kept going.

You felt unsure, and surely your inexperienced touch was showing that. You felt his abdomen twitch a bit on your touch. You always wanted to feel his abs all the workout and basketball practice he does shows on his body. You cupped your hand against his clothed cock and applied good pressure with heel of your palm.

Harry bit down on his lower lip to mute down the moan, leaving his lips. Your brother was just next door, and neither of you want to take any risk. You kept your hand there applying pressure from time to time.

"Fuck-" He breaths out, his hand holding your wrist and removing it from his crotch. You look at him confused until he picks you up with your thighs a bit and says, "Slide it down a bit, babe."

Your hands are immediately on his waist. You still feeling unsure pulled his pants down. His length bobbed up and slapped on his lower tummy. When the pants were down to his knees, he groaned and put you back down on his thigh harshly, causing you to whimper.

He brings back his lips to yours, and you start rolling your hips again. The warmth in your core increased as the time went by, and so did your breathy moans and whimpers. Harry took this opportunity and slid his tongue inside, tasting every corner of your mouth.

You in the moment of bravery took his cock in your hand and start moving up and down and now it was his turn to moan. You were still very scared of hurting him, so you kept your touch light, but apparently, it wasn't enough.

Harry pulled back and looked down to where you were getting off on his thigh, covering it in your arousal and then to where your hand was moving up and down on his dick. "Stop torturing me, babe," He whines, throwing his head back.

You look at him confused, not knowing what he was talking about. Were you taking too long to get off? were you not doing it properly? Did he not want it now? Before you could question yourself more, he looked back at you and put his hand around yours on his length, applying more pressure.

The moan he let out was the most pornographic one you have heard. Scared someone will hear him your hand flew to his mouth covering it but that only made him moan louder.

"Har, you're going to get us caught," you whisper yelled, your own orgasm was approaching quickly, and the way Harry was twitching in your hand indicated that maybe he was close too.

"Shit- Sorry" He said against your hand. You removed his when he calmed a bit. His eyes were heavy and droopy, and so were yours, you were sure.

"Go on baby, cum for me," Harry said against your ear sensually. He started leaving kisses down your neck again, moaning against them as his own orgasm overcame him. One more roll of your hip and warmth spread all throughout your body. Harry kissed your lips to swallow all your noises.

Your hand went limp on his length, but he didn't care. When he pulled back a bit and saw you still rolling your hips to prolonging your orgasm while your eyes were closed your head tilted all the way back and a warm glow on your face he came all over his tshirt without any assistance.

Harry's release covered your whole hand and ruined his shirt while you covered his thigh with yours. Your head fell on his chest while Harry fell back on your bed. Both of you didn't have the energy to do anything.

After some time, Harry looked down at you, hoping you didn't fall asleep on his chest covered in mess. You looked up with big tired eyes shining in moonlight.

"C'mon, let's get cleaned up," He said. You sat up and he tired on to think too much about how you were almost straddling his cock and how slick your core felt or how your tits were almost slipping out of your thin strapped top but it was too late. You gasped when you felt him harden against your inner thigh.

His face was flushed with embarrassment when you realized yours went too. You carefully got off from above him. Your legs were feeling wobbly, so you held the end of the bed frame to balance.

"God you will be the death of me" He groaned and you looked at him confused until you looked down and saw him half hard again and then you saw yourself and how he could fully see your boobs from the top.

You giggled feeling sudden confidence from having so much power over him by just being there. You always thought of your body negatively and treated it negatively but now seeing him like this gave you sense of confidence and power.

"Want to take a shower?" You suggested, and Harry didn't need to be told twice as he picked you up and led to the bathroom.

*****

Next part is also smut no need to thank me🫣

Taglist- @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @harryspirate @tiaamberxx

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You can talk to me here♡ I love it when you guys talk to me about it. Requests are unfortunately closed :(

[the-head-ancho-chilli]

Demon Slayer Characters and if I Think They Can Walk in Heels

I SWEAR IM NOT DEAD

Now that I’ve moved into my new place, I’m just trying to get some stuff sorted out so apologies for the delay, I swear I’m working on your requests T_T

In the meantime, here’s this post that I finished a few days ago that I started during finals season

Enjoy!

Word count: 1.4k~

Part 1 (you're here!), Part 2 (coming soon), Part 3 (coming soon)

Modern au-ish...

Mitsuri Kanroji

She doesn't really wear heels unless she's going out somewhere

Mitsuri will wear heels if you take her to a club, a date, a restaurant, and any other nicer event

But honestly, she prefers running shoes!

They're convenient, comfortable, and they tend to match their outfits more often than not

Do not get me wrong, Mitsuri can definitely rock a pair of heels

I would say that the highest she can go is six inch heels and that's it

Anymore than that and she's wobbling

Mitsuri's favourite pair of heels is a knee high gladiator sandal that's all gold, and maube about 4-5 inches high?

It pairs lovely with her favourite dresses and skirts, especially when she's going out of her way to turn a few heads

I also think that she's the most graceful out of everyone here

Overall 9/10 she absolutely slays this

Obanai Iguro

He thinks it's stupid that he needs to clarify this at all

Can Obanai walk in heels? Without a doubt

Your next question should be if Obanai chooses to wear heels

And shockingly, he does

I think that Obanai will sometimes wear a two inch loafer heel just for some added height

Hella confident in them too, look at him go

Obanai will totally wear them to work, class, or anywhere he feels like putting on a little bit of effort into what he's wearing

I think on more fancier occasions, like a high end date or club, he might wear some pointed toe stilettos with a nice pair of slacks

Honestly he's not really one to exclude heels from his wardrobe, he's just weirded out by how fascinated people are on this topic

8/10, nailed it

Tengen Uzui

Do I think Tengen can wear heels? I know for a fact he can

But I just think that he never does because he can never find any in his size

Poor guy

To be fair, this man is fucking huge

I even have problems finding boots that fit my calves, deep down in my heart I know that Tengen has it so much worse

Cause even if he manages to find something that fits his foot, it might not fit the rest of his leg

He's actyally really devestated about it

All he wants is a nice pair of pumps to match Hina, Suma and Makio

And maybe a pair of lobster claws...

3/10, a slay in theory but not in practice

I WILL GIVE HIM THIS, if he manages to pay for a custom pair of heels, he will probably rival with Mitsuri in who looks the best in heels

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He says he can walk in heels

But I assure you, he cannot

I think that Sanemi is lowkey intimidated by the results of the other Hashira on this list and now he's in too deep to back down

So when asked if he can wear heels, he will lie to your face

"Obviously, you think I'm gonna allow a pair of shoes to get the best of me?"

Sanemi, you've got a big storm coming

All his machoness goes away the second that he puts them on

Why is he walking with his knees out...

He's not even wearing stilettos, no

Sanemi's wearing three inch cork wedges

They don't really suit his style so he'll never go out of his way to wear them

I think after embarassing himself like this, he's never going to want to learn how to walk in them

-2/10 Sanemi you fucked around and found out huh

Shinobu Kocho

Can absolutely strut in six inch heels no problem

I think that Shinobu wears heels often, especially if she's going to be out in public where she is certain she's going to encounter someone she knows

But I don't think she enjoys wearing them

In some way I think Shinobu wears heels on a semi-daily basis to compensate for her short stature

She wants to be on equal standing with others and in a way, this is her way fo tring to achieve that

Two inch boots aren't going to stop her from being taken seriously

She does try to find some light in her circimustance though

Her favourite pair are these cute mary janes, and she has another pair with a platform sole

So even if you see her wearing heels, please don't mistake that she finds them powerful to wear

It's more of a social thing really

7/10, I wish she had a better experience :/

Kyojuro Rengoku

I am going to say this as nicely as I can

Please be patient with him, he's learning T_T

He can still get to where he needs to go, he just looks a little unstable???

Kyojuro would really appreciate if you held his hand a little

Though I will say, he is enthusiastic about learning!

In a few months he can probably walk just fine in them

I don't think that he would wear them to work or on a date, but he might if he's going to a particular event where you try to look better than usual

Like a high end club or exclusive event, he'll probably wear something classy

I think his go to is wither a pair of corset heels or high blocks

Obanai is lowkey jealous because Kyojuro doesn't really need the extra hight

4/10, keep up the hard work :)

Giyu Tomioka

My first instinct was to immediately put Giyu on the 'Not Allowed' list

A hunch just told me that he would somehow cause more trouble if he wore any

But I considered it further and came to this conlcusion

Giyu can and will walk in heels, just nothing above three inches

He tried walking in four inch platforms and he was nearly tripping every two minutes

And if Tengen sees him exiting his apartment wearing them again he will not hesitate to put those things back where they came from

Giyu does like wearing heels though, even if he's not allowed to wear very high ones

Only wears them if he's going to a club though

His favourite pair is a professional looking pair of blue, beige and black slingbacks with a three inch heel

5/10, but he's walking on thin ice

Gyomei Himejima

I don't think that Gyomei could walk in heels smoothly, but he can certainly get from point A to B

He just can't do it gracefully

If Gyomei walks in heels, he won't ever admit that he's struggling and he'll insist that he's walking just fine

But he has his arms outstretched like he's walking on a tightrope

It's honestly just not his thing, and I don't think he would be able to incorporate it with his current wardrobe

Even if he had the desire to learn, I think he would hear the struggle that Tengen's going through and just give up

He already has to go on a lengthy search to find anything to fit him regularly, let alone a pair of heels

2/10 I can't say I would recommend this for him, no

Muichiro Tokito

You know those pictures of kids wearing their mom's heels?

And their foot barely fits in the shoe?

And they just look so awkwardly out of place?

That's Muichiro

Poor baby

I think he has some growing to do before he's going to learn how to walk in them

But Muichiro definitely wants to learn!

Given how his sense of style is usually baggy or loose fitting clothes, I can see him maybe going to Obanai for style advice in the future

Probably nothing high or flashy either, just probably a pair of classy heeled boots

I just don't think it's for him right now, at his current stature

Muichiro just looks a little bit out of place in them right now though...

1/10, maybe when you're a bit older buddy

꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚

Thanks for reading! I have two more parts of this prompt with the slayers and demons so I should be sending that out in a while. I’m also working on a Kyojuro request and I’m hoping to have it out soon, so stay tuned lovelies ^^

Also thank you all for 200 followers, I swear I’ll work harder so I can post more often! I’ll be working on some requests in the meantime :)

Asks and requests are still open, just please read the rules before submitting anything ;)