#the ideas for many of these came from other fics in this fandom as well.!!
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TIME FOR A WIP TAG GAME 💫
rules: in a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
oh nooo exposed by smitty for my ridiculous doc names.. how could you DO this to meee 😭 dfghs but thanks for the tag darlin @prompted-wordsmith.!!
(tagged on my main but i thought i'd go ahead and post here instead... if i posted all of my wips for every fandom, we'd be here a month 🤭)
my naming conventions are notably all either coded nonsense only comprehensible to me, or song lyrics that are not, in fact, from the song i Actually titled the fic with.! it got so ridiculous i made a spreadsheet to keep track of their shorthand names, their Real Actual Titles, and their summaries. just so i could always find right what i was looking for. i love to cross-reference ! three cheers for color-coding ! 🎉 luckily for me, said doc came in veryyy handy when it came to copy/pasting for this tag game 😂😂
daddy? sorry, da-
i get no help around this goddamn house
this is the Real t&s
he was the congregations vagrant
cry about it, fucker
the saints we see are all made of gold
all the small things
lover's lover's alibi
he's the one to call (dr. feelgood)
my middle name is miseryyy
ho ho hopefully
this is NOT feederism it is cARETAKING
who do you love
what breed is he just a little guy
toxic las vegas
achy breaky head
catch a falling star💫
being weird together is a love language
oscars flop era
9 to 5
go out by the oak leaf
motorpsyche 🏍️
ive beaten the orange camaro
ginger snapped 🐺
vacation all ive ever wanted
polk salad booty is this anything
some of these have been in the works for YEARS, like.. since the movie actually came out.. i started writing two days after i got home from the theater the first time oOP look y'all know me alright the likelihood any of these will actually make it to posting on this blog is,, uh. Slim !! ngl it's pretty slim. i have wips from over a decade ago that STILL don't feel done enough to publish 🙈 but these in particular are very near and dear to my heart and i'd love to gauge y'all's interest anyway.! so fire away, ask me anything, i love to talk and am always down to gush 👍
tagging: @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @vintagepresley, @floralcyanide, @whatstruthgottodowithit,@dreamingofep, @ooihcnoiwlerh, @suraemoon, @vintageshanny, uhhh i panicked at the length of this list and don't know who else writes around here and is left to tag, but pleaseeee take this as an open invitation to join in if you want!! i'd love to see everyone's systems 🥰🥰 and of course no pressure if you don't 👌
#tag game#blurb#the ideas for many of these came from other fics in this fandom as well.!!#MANY#old ones especially and some by authors who arent active anymore !#...like i said ive been writing these for a loooong time#srsly the a/ns i left in my drafts are like time capsules in and of themselves#so pleaseeee ask me questions so i can rave abt those original inspo fics dfgh#if u werent around in the beginning id love to name drop some of these classics#and if u WERE we can reminisce.! 🥰
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I have a burning curiosity that can only be relieved by an OFMD author. Why is there so much AU fanfiction in this fandom?? 😆 My AO3 search results with every alternate universe tag I can think of blocked are coming up with almost every result on the page filtered out! 🤣 I have nothing against them existing and I'm all for everyone writing what makes them happy, I just wonder how this fandom ended up being so full of them. I used to think SPN was oversaturated with AU's, but it can't hold a candle to OFMD! 😅
okay i wanted to give this a proper answer and also asked a few other authors, so here are some of the reasons we came up with - i think it's a combination of all of these:
while the show takes place in a historical setting, it's not historically accurate or even trying to be. it uses anachronistic dialogue and gives piracy a vibe more like a modern workplace. the characters become timeless in the sense that they are already "modern" characters put into a historical setting, and therefore fit just as well into any kind of AU setting. the characters are what make up the show more than the historical setting
the themes that the show deals with - relationships, sexuality, gender, trauma, family, self-image, mental illness - can be explored in so many different ways given different settings. it's very interesting to examine how the characters would deal with them when thrown into different circumstances and time periods
canon is really good, so while there are gaps in the narrative that can be explored, a lot of people are drawn to putting the characters in entirely different situations and/or feel like canon ground was covered pretty quickly
the story itself translates to other universes very easily. people want to enjoy that story and/or their favorite plot points again and again, but just writing down the plot of the show in the canon setting wouldn't make much sense. by throwing the characters into a different universe, you can pull scenes and plot from canon without just repeating it, putting a different spin on it
very few shows have (canonically) older queer people, and people like the idea of how that translates to other universes
we have (relatively) little canon and had a lot of time between seasons. considering the size of the fandom, amount of canon, and time since canon, the proportion of AUs is not surprising
if we assume proper tagging, AUs make up around 27% of all ofmd fanfics by number of works, but probably much more by word count, since a lot of canon fics tend to be shorter. in comparison, that number is around 20% for SPN and 34% for Merlin 🤷
also i've seen a lot of people starting out by only wanting to read canonverse fics until they gave an AU a try and BAM they were hooked 😌
and last but not least:
Ed and Stede fall in love in every universe 💗
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Jax x Ragatha: The snake and the water spring
The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis.
Author's note:
I found this show by chance and I took a great liking to it! So now I did a thing, instead of studying for upcoming exams, because I love making things difficult for myself, apparently.
I have no idea what the fandom is like, but I'm playing it safe just to be... well... safe. I just loved the concept of this show so much that I couldn't help but be inspired by it! It got me thinking and I let it all out in this... thing.
I want to write more one-shot fics about the other characters and how they fit into this au too, but I don't know when I'll be able to.
WARNING!
None of these characters are mine and everything mentioned and described is purely made-up fiction; inspired by works that are not my own.
Nothing should be considered canon or taken seriously - we are all here to have some harmless fun!
No age restrictions. I think this might be appropriate for all ages...?
Please show some love and support for Gooseworx; the creator of The Amazing Digital Circus!
I definitely butchered Gooseworx's characters by adding unnecessary 'relationship dynamics' and deviating from their original personalities. I promise that the actual show and characters are so much better than they are in my false portrayal of them.
SUMMARY:
A fanmade take on the events following Pomni's arrival and after the crew had dinner together. This is focused on Jax's point of view, but still written in the third person.
Jax confronts Ragatha after the pilot episode's 'dinner' and does his best to comfort her in a way that works for them. That's it.
Please enjoy!
THE SNAKE AND THE WATER SPRING
Jax was a desert snake.
Nothing but a cold-blooded pest that lived to find his next meal.
When one is left to die under the scorching sun, you can’t stomp on the sun for creating a desert, but you could stomp on the desert snake if it added to the pain of surviving in said desert. The Digital Realm was nothing but a desert sun – a cage with no exit and an evil with no target.
It was no secret why so many had lost their minds here.
Jax took on the role of being the snake. It was never announced or planned, but it was deemed necessary by all who came to know the realm. The inhabitants of The Amazing Digital Circus craved any sense of control; something they could hold accountable for their torment – something they could punish. A menace, parasite.
Evil with a target: Jax.
It was fun to act out while everybody went about their lives. He could unapologetically be the worst being known to man and thrive on the rage and hatred of all he had affected. If they hated him, he was fulfilling his role perfectly… and that meant they could stay sane and do their parts as he did his. Less people would be lost to insanity… and the group would grow stronger.
Everyone had a role in their system – an oasis was established, with Ragatha as the heart of the oasis; their very own water spring.
But when a new invading creature bursts into the oasis with no knowledge of this system, their system would be doomed. Pomni happened to be that invader. Everyone could collectively, yet silently agree that she was acting by her own careless devices since she arrived a few hours ago. She greedily soaked up their water source and left it barren, dry, and suffering.
Granted, Pomni didn’t know how their oasis worked, but it didn’t change the fact that she disrupted everything by showing up. She would have to catch on quickly and prove herself useful, before anyone else loses their minds.
They lost one of their own already… and they almost lost their beloved Ragatha; Jax’s equal and opposite.
Their precious water source.
Snakes offered venom, while water springs offered hope of life. They all desperately needed Ragatha to survive. While most would assume her to be fine after being fixed by Caine, Jax knew better than that. He saw her reluctantly stand aside Pomni to support her – beautifully acting within her role as she always would, but it was clear that Pomni still didn’t understand how scarce the water was by then. Rags was spread thin enough by handling the extra stress and enduring the continuous pain of being corrupted by the abstraction, but that didn’t stop Pomni from practically having a mental breakdown at the dinner table.
Jax saw that coming from a mile away. Thank goodness he silently took the open seat next to Pomni, silent in his insistence that the ragdoll should keep her distance for the time being. He’d give anything to destroy the little jester for abusing his doll. Ragatha was acting perfectly normal at the time – her masked smile perfectly set on her face – until it was time for them all to retire to their respective bedrooms.
Jax wished that he would’ve just dragged her after him when he booked it from the abstraction earlier today. Pomni would have been the perfect distraction for them to escape and get Caine.
He stood at Ragatha’s door after dinner.
Jax made a point to ring the doorbell this time. Usually, he’d just pluck out a key and saunter in like he owns the place, but with what happened today, he’d make an exception. Everyone has their limit – and someone has already reached their limit today. They couldn’t risk losing another one. Especially not Raggs. They all really needed her.
When she didn’t open, he tried the bell again. Nothing.
Well, time for the key, then.
He shoved his hand down his front pocket and fished out the doll’s room key. The bunny didn’t waste time opening the door. He wanted to see what state the girl was in, despite dreading the possibility of finding an abstracted amalgamation on the other side.
Silence.
Not even a creak was heard from the hallway. The room was lit up as it usually was, so that was a good sign, at least. Jax couldn’t see an obvious black body of eyes – another win. But where was Ragatha? He did see her walk into her room, so she had to be here.
He walked around, keeping his cool, casual composure fixed, despite no one being around. It was effortless at this point. It became a way for him to focus on what he could control in this crazy digital prison; himself.
He couldn’t, however, control his ability to spot a blasted ragdoll, it would seem. He scanned the room again, until his eyes fell on her ¾ bed. Could she-?
The bunny rolled his eyes at himself as he lowered himself onto his knees – maybe he could convince himself that he was not phased by the situation. Bending down, he peered beneath the bed frame.
Jax sighed in exasperation. Or was it relief? Both?
Ragatha was in the state she was in before retiring to her room. No gliching, no extra eyes.
Just Raggs.
She didn’t look good, though. The doll was curled up beneath her bed and blindly staring ahead of her. It didn’t look like she was breathing – not that they needed to anyway, but it was uncanny to see Rags like this. She was their voice of reason. She was a water spring in this desert.
If she dried up, their desert would be doomed.
Jax silently stood up and walked back to the open door again. No need to make a fuss over this. He took hold of the door handle and shut it from the inside. Key in hand, he locked the door and nodded to himself. Ragatha needed a raincloud… and he’d have to fill that role now. It’s the least he could do after leaving her to fend for herself when they found the abstraction today.
Why didn’t she run with him? Why did think she could fix someone whose mind was broken beyond repair? Why didn’t she just leave the rookie as bait?
Because that just wasn’t her role, was it?
If it weren’t for her nature – her role – none of them would have made it this far. It dawned on Jax, once again, how close they were to losing their beloved doll. How close they were to being stuck with an invader who knew nothing about what it took to survive in this hell hole.
Enough.
Back to the bed, crouched down and silent Jax positioned himself to lay down and simply look over the red head from a relative distance. There was enough space for the doll to crawl out of hiding without having to touch him. The bunny still hadn’t said a word. It’d be stupid to talk, and he didn’t feel like making the effort. He just wanted things back to normal again – well… as normal as it could have been.
Now Kaufmo is gone, a new creature was invading their home, tearing it up from the roots and tipping the delicate scales of the balance they worked very hard on creating. All because of a lunatic ringmaster having the bright idea of creating a fake exit-door. Someone better get that jester on a tight leash to get her to fall in line, like the rest of them were forced to.
He knew he, for one, wouldn’t mind roughing her up a bit. It was his specialty – his role. The parasite. The menace. The instigator.
Evil with an actual target.
The sound of shifting and movement had Jax blink out of his own head. Ragatha was slowly and dumbly making her way out from under her bed. Her eyes were still fogged over and her face still eerily blank, but at least she came out of hiding out of her own will. In a matter of seconds, the doll was out from her hiding place and settled on the floor beside Jax. She was staring him in the eyes now, waiting for the bunny, silently pleading.
Jax hadn’t had his aloof-douchebag persona engaged since he locked Ragatha’s door. She didn’t need a menace now – she needed to be grounded; revitalized. She needed a dark raincloud to fill up the water spring they all needed.
He didn’t look forward to what needed to be done, but he wouldn’t allow anyone else to do it.
He moved to stand up and held out a hand to help her up. He took note of the way her hand was shaking when she took his and gently guided her to the bed. The red head was the first to sit, then moved to lay down on her back and numbly stare at the ceiling. With a deep breath, Jax gathered himself mentally and cautiously crept onto the bed and positioned himself to briefly hover over her, before lowering his full weight onto Ragatha.
He had his head in the crook of her neck, on the left shoulder with his ears folding back to floppily droop to his upper back… with his left hand resting on the opposite shoulder. His body, although slim, enveloped hers and caused her to sink slightly into the mattress. His legs just loosely laid over and aside the ragdoll’s. It was more important to have his weight resting on her torso anyway.
For a long moment, they just motionlessly laid on the bed like this. To an outsider, it would look like they fell asleep atop each other or simply cuddled together very closely.
An outsider wouldn’t see that Jax was focused on the slow process of Ragatha’s body relaxing under his weight and her breathing slowing to a regular rhythm. An outsider wouldn’t have known that this was hardly the first time they’d done this – how long it took Jax to learn that this make-shift deep-pressure therapy was the most effective grounding technique for Ragatha to collect herself again.
They wouldn’t understand that Jax didn’t do this out of wanting to, but rather out of necessity.
Jax didn’t like to be touched. If anything, he was very capable of merely tolerating it. Everyone in the circus knew that he was touch-averse; some even used that as leverage to mess with him if the situation called for it. It was a necessity that he endured to keep his doll sane – to keep anyone of importance here in the circus, sane. Their whole lives revolved around mental strength. It was all just a matter of staying sane.
The laid there for what felt like a lifetime.
Slight shifting beside Jax alerted him that the doll was moving her arms – previously stiffly pinned to her sides. This was good, she felt comfortable enough to move around now!
Her left hand gently snaked up to the bunny’s head and slowly, softly petted his ears in a longitude motion. Her right hand wrapped loosely around his middle-to-lower back – motionless. This was bad, Jax did not like being touched like that!
While he was fine with the rhythmic touches of Ragatha’s left hand, he despised the idle position of the right hand resting on his back. He couldn’t prevent himself from tensing up in discomfort.
Bad touch, bad touch, bad-
This caused the ragdoll to tense up and rip her hands off him as if he burned her.
Oh no you don’t! We are not starting all over again.
He slowly pulls away and propped up unto his elbows, hearing Ragatha’s breathing pick up as she presumably spirals into her own thoughts on how he was going to leave her like this. Jax cast down a disapproving look. He broke his gaze to unceremoniously take her right hand – now clutched close to her chest – and intertwined their fingers, before resting his head on her left shoulder once again. He close eyes as he use his free hand to put her left hand on his head again, waiting for her to resume her petting.
Good touch; this was a good touch. Please understand.
Thankfully, Ragatha relaxed… and continued her previous slow, rhythmic motions. Slowly, Jax felt her relax once again and he indulged into her need for touch by stroking his thumb over hers occasionally.
Soon they fell into a rhythm; Ragatha would pet Jax’s ears 3 times, then it was his turn to stroke his thumb over hers. Then they would repeat the routine. This also helped Jax cope with the touching; the routine. The rhythm.
It felt like hours ticked by as the two just practiced their little unspoken routine. Jax grew used to it after a while, almost forgetting that his new mattress was now a sentient ragdoll and completely tuned into their rhythm of touches.
Pet… pet… pet… thumb. Pet… pet… pet… thumb.
Jax didn’t like touch, but he loved routine.
The doll and the bunny’s time together, once nothing but grounding techniques, grew to become an intimate exchange of touches and caresses – all wrapped in a routine, like a dance. Jax felt warm and fuzzy inside; for once he basked in the moment of enjoying his dolly. He lazily wondered if Ragatha felt the same. He shifted his head to look at her.
The doll looked down to meet his eyes when she felt him move. He could swear that she looked at peace, basking in the bliss of their closeness. For some reason, she looked like an angel. They all saw her as their angel. Had he successfully pinned a heavenly body beneath him?
Her gentle, longing gaze made a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt from his core.
This wasn’t the first time this feeling invaded his being when they did this – as rare as these moments were. He wasn’t sure when he started experiencing such feelings during these rare encounters, but as months crawled by, he felt drawn to his dolly more and more. Based on how she looked at him, he could only assume that she felt it too.
Something so foreign, yet so familiar.
He didn’t fail to spot the warmth rushing to her cheeks when their eyes met. She looked so ethereal beneath him, especially when her breathing picked up under his firm gaze. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were lidded. This time, it wasn’t fear or overstimulation. It was anticipation. It was desire.
Jax internally flinched at the tingly sensation when he smoothly burrowed his face into Ragatha’s neck. She shivered at the breath he let out against her skin. He could tolerate the touching a little longer, as long as he could see her crumble again. He wanted to see her walls crumble again.
“Jax- ”
Oh… he had to hear her again. More clearly, next time. This was torture, but she made him into her own personal masochist. His skin crawled at the sensation of her skin shivering against him, but he needed more. He could take it. Just a little longer – he just had to stand these sensations a little longer. He looked at her again.
Ragatha was reverting to a helpless puddle. The doll’s arms were gripping at the covers beneath her, successfully eliminating the bother of excessive contact that he despised. Jax didn’t know if she did it with that intension or without thinking, but either way, he was thankful. He really wanted more.
Why couldn’t he just be normal?
He lifted onto his elbows again and – dare one say – lovingly looked at her face. She could only peek back at him, breathing slightly faster than usual. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shaky hand rise from the covers and hover next to his cheek, while her eyes pleaded for his mercy. He hesitated but bit the bullet to comply; leaning into her touch while desperately trying to ignore the odd tingles. Jax convinced himself to kiss her wrist and drowned himself in the pleasure of hearing her softly call his name.
He only heard it because he was listening so closely for it.
Yes.
DING DONG
In a flash, Jax braced himself up into a crouch and slammed his foot down with a mighty THUMP upon hearing Ragatha startle into a fit when the doorbell chimed. His hair on his back stood on end and his claws ripped through his gloves, leaving gouges in the covers beside the doll’s head.
His precious doll was disturbed again!
He heard her soft cry of fear and his blood boiled with a thirst for vengeance. Only he can make her cry out. He’ll skin the soul that dared to-
“Ragatha…? Can we talk?”
That DAMN jester!
“Jax?” a quiet voice trembled in his ear from beneath him. Jax stopped glaring at the door to softly glance down and see what his little doll wanted.
“Don’t…” Raggs sounded like she was begging while being held at gunpoint, whispering despite their rooms being enchanted to not hear anything from the outside when the door is shut.
Jax wouldn’t dare let that thing inside. Raggs was upset enough as it is.
“Look, I know it probably wouldn’t make a difference…” Pomni’s voice came from the other side door again, “…but I’m so sorry for running off… Again… I saw that exit and I had to see if it was real. No one else believed me and I started to think that I was losing my mind. You understand that, right?”
Jax placed both his hands down on the mattress, blocking the doll’s view of the door as if it could block the sound of the voice from reaching the Raggs’s ears, still hovering over her. He knew that his dolly didn’t want to hear anything the harlequin had to say now – he had half the mind to get up and bash the newbie’s head in.
“I hope we can talk about this some time. You are probably tired after such a long, crazy day.” Pomni’s voice died down near the end, “It feels like you’re the only good person here.”
She really is, but she’s too good for you. Selfish leech.
Jax looks down to the girl, still stiff as a board beneath him. Her eye was shiny with the swell of tears. He melted at the sight – anger simmering down. She was just a sweet little rag dolly, she didn’t deserve any of this, but oh, he was so happy to see Ragatha finally emote something again. She was OK again. Their water source was filled once again, now threatening to spill over. He’d happily welcome the flood.
He needed her.
The sound of fading footsteps causes Jax to rip his eyes to the direction of the door. His hearing was better than the dolls, probably thanks to being a rabbit.
Good riddance.
Ragatha seemed to relax at the sight of Jax deflating his stance, reading that Pomni probably left her door. She hesitantly reached up to cup Jax’s cheek. Jax followed her hand’s motion and scoffed, cringing at the invasion. He’s had enough touching for a week. It sucked to leave his doll so soon after being distressed again, but he couldn’t bring himself stand any more of this. He quickly got up and smoothed out his clothes, but not without missing the flash of hurt in the doll’s eyes. He felt bad, but he had to be strong with the new girl around, so straining himself now would only make matters worse and mess up the whole system.
Still, seemingly bored, Jax stood in his spot while rocking on his heels and looking off to the side, only sparing her a glance. Raggs sat up by then. She looked a little worse for wear, but it’s an improvement from hiding under her bed. She rested her elbows on her knees with her chin in her hands. The hurt in her eyes was long gone, but she looked tired. Poor thing, Jax shared the sentiment.
He felt her eye bore into the side of his face and the bunny couldn’t stop himself before he rolled his eyes and looked to her again. He could’ve choked on air when he saw her face, but the years of steeling his demeanor left no trace of his inner turmoil.
Raggs sported that longing look in her eyes again.
They were so close this time – closer than they’ve ever been before. Each time they spent together on nights like this, although few and far between, they grew closer… and hungrier. Neither understood what it was, but they never had the chance to just collapse into it, tonight being the closest to that.
But there was always something, right?
Jax allowed gaze to soften. His doll offered a small smile that almost ripped his heart out if his chest. It was drenched with melancholy of something she knew they could never have.
Because their roles in their little ecosystem didn’t allow for it to ever be theirs. It would never work.
This was survival.
The rabbit steeled his demeanor once again, but this time, his doll’s face didn’t fall.
Good, as it should be.
Jax walked to the door and fished out the key from his front pocket. He didn’t bother looking back. If he did, he wouldn’t have the will to leave anymore. When he opened the door, though, he couldn’t help but mumble out teasingly.
“See yah later, Doll~!”
He wished that he could shout his affections for her out into the void instead.
“I’m not your doll.” Ragatha responded, voice still wobbly and tired, but perky regardless. She knew just how to indulge him.
Yes, she is… she always will be.
Fanart: Evil with a target
Oasis: TADC AU list
Masterlist
#the amazing digital circus#fanfiction#tadc fanfiction#tadc jax#tadc ragatha#jax x ragatha#bad analogies#tadc oasis au#oasis#mutual pining#angst and fluff#soft jax#touch averse jax#deep pressure therapy#aggressive cuddling#psychiatric episode#unhealthy coping mechanisms#healthy coping mechanisms#Jax has one line of dialogue#jax hates pomni#ragatha is trying her best#everyone is traumatized#yeehaw new fandom#i cant tag#tadc pomni#animal instincts#gooseworx
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hey there!
I kind of consider you the resident dnp expert (at least in dnp culture) so I wanted your opinion on a question that's been building for a while now.
What are the boundaries for dnp now?
There are so many things that I feel have changed even in the last four years: writing smutty rpf was Gross and Weird, along with art along that line, speculating about their relationship was ABSOLUTELY a no-go, all things that I see happening on Tumblr now. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing!! I'm just acknowledging things have changed over time. They're different people now and so are we, and the "we know you know" era is lots of fun.
I was browsing reddit today (bad idea, do not recommend) and came across a post from a new Phannie asking if DnP were in a relationship. And while I agree that we cannot say for absolute certain that they are, the responses had a VERY different vibe than on here, emphasizing how bad the speculation was (true) and essentially saying "don't even think about that, just enjoy their content." (or something to that extent.)
Which... is very different from this here website in which we joke about them being horney for each other constantly lmao.
Being a very rules-driven person, I like expectations to be made abundantly clear for pretty much everything. So that's why I want to ask: Is there a line here? Are we crossing that line? How defined is that line? (All of this, of course, I recognize is your opinion and yours alone, and if this is posted I encourage anyone else to share their two-cents in a respectful way.)
Obviously, trying to find out where they live/things like that is very clearly crossing a boundary. But is there some sort of limit or boundary I (and tbh the rest of the phandom), in your opinion, should be keeping in mind?
thanks xx
hi!
'resident expert' is a hefty title, i'm just here trying my best!
'what are the boundaries for dnp now?' is really a great question. cause the thing is, we used to know. there used to be a fairly well-defined and mostly agreed upon line, and ever since the dapg revival in particular, the line keeps moving.
i'll be honest, i never really saw phanfic as rpf, even though it is. my stance on phanfic is the same as dnps: it's a beautiful expression of art and creativity and is so, so important. they've always been pro-fic (even though we subjected them to some absolutely horrific crack fics), so i don't think 'smutty' fic has ever been gross or too far. they've given their blessing, and, as the conversation has been in fandom communities the last few years, rpf isn't 'for' the people in them, it's for the fans. so i digress.
art is much the same way. they love art! they even included art of them kissing in a tumblr tag video back in the day, so to say that's not allowed especially after they're out is kind of crazy to me.
i think the line with stuff like that was showing it directly to dnp--tagging them in explicit stuff, that kind of thing. but creating it? go for it! it's always been a green light. (i think fans have previously overpoliced this and we lost a lot of great fic, art, and community members over it)
browsing reddit is always a Choice. i've never participated on dnp reddit before but i am aware that it is an entirely different space than here. something that's important, i think (and i think you think this too as you're asking about them), is to respect the fandom rules of the place you partcipate in. tumblr is generally one of the most phan-positive places on the internet, especially publicly facing. we make a lot of relationship jokes, particularly because we run on the assumption it's already true, based on what they've both said publicly (mostly dan).
i won't comment on reddit specifically just because i'm not a part of the community there, but the speculation about dnp online was a Lot for a long time. but the worst part of it was the stalking, the digging into personal lives, the contacting family members--that is what was bad. dnp have always had a connection--and, honestly, they kind of love flexing it and kind of always have. they absolutely play into things now, but they certainly did even way before coming out too. i think a certain level of speculation was to be expected, especially in that era of online fandom. but it wasn't just the 'teenage girls' who cared, the media did too, and so did many others.
i think one of the biggest differences now is 1 the awareness of 'our' past and trying to make up for it, and 2 the broader societal conversations about parasocial relationships.
you see this reflected on the snippets ive seen from dnp reddit and dnp twitter. they tend to be Very 'cautious' about the words they say, often undercutting perfectly reasonable statements with 'but whatever their relationship is'. on one hand, they don't want to cross a line, and i can respect that. on the other hand... it's 2024 babes. they just put out merch of them holding hands. dan's directly, intentionally, and explicitly called phil a bottom on dapg. they reacted to all of the pinofs, made jokes about 'theyre touching', and even joked about the tackle being 'wrestling 👀'. dan posted half-naked catboy pics and showed us phil was taking them. the 'watch your step babygirl' tweet & their reactions to it. phil is credited in WAD. they're making threesome jokes about themselves as a unit. i could go on and on.
to me, there's a few things that have 'moved the line' for us, so to speak.
1 - DAPG returning. for the last few years they specifically were not a duo (for projects) anymore. (and no, not because they hated each other). they just weren't. they wanted to focus on their goals and projects. they didn't have to resurrect dapg, but they chose to. marketing and money aside, they knew that if this went over well, it would well and truly revive the 'dan and phil' brand again. it would be specifically returning to being a duo in the public eye. (however they've also fully embraced this in all aspects, including merch, videos, and general attitude)
2 - pinof reacts. even though they'd been out since 2019, we hadn't had regular joint content from them since before that, therefore, while they had become more comfortable with themselves and their 'outness', we hadn't (in terms of them making explicit gay jokes together). so i really think dnp had to de-fang a lot of the 'theyre touching' of it all, because we didn't really know where we stood on it anymore. i think they succeeded, too. we couldn't be here, with the content of the last 3 months, without them tackling it head on (well, as head on as they're want to do).
3 - dapc. genuinely another big shift. they did this for the real fans. purely a passion project, and a specific choice in doing the handhold. they know what we're like. and this wasn't a brief, unplanned, unscripted moment. it's a specifically blocked out scene. they know it's opening a door, and they chose to. this is doubled by the fucking iconic merch selling, and furthered by phil's twitter likes of arguably romantic phanart, and then dan's full straddle like.
even throughout the current 6 months of revival, the line has moved. i don't know where it will settle. dnp keep moving it, in my opinion, and, genuinely, i don't think it's going to leave much to the imagination. as you say, obviously not the stalking or the contacting, but beyond that? especially here on tumblr? i wouldn't get too worried. obviously people will have their opinions, but as long as you're generally respectful and recognize that humans will see your posts and humans interact with them, i think you're good.
my rule of thumb is anything they intentionally put on the table, we can joke about or at the same level. but in terms of art/fic? go off, live your dreams. dan and phil would want you to.
#i didn't include a cut because people don't always look under them and this is generally a whole statement. feel free to add things.#there's specific discourse i dont partake in. doesnt mean you have to avoid it entirely. but just dont bring it up to dnp and you're fine.#dnp#dan and phil#phan#<- for the fandometrics#c.text#answered
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A sparkle in the night
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Pair: Alastor and Vox. A bit platonic, a bit romantic, could be read in different ways.
Disclaimer: Nothing other than it’s a SFW tickle fic. They are also slightly ooc but tbh we don’t really know since I’m describing a moment that happened before the series takes place sooooo… who knows (but honestly, Alastor is much too sweet to be canon).
Also I had fun with some fonts I found online, I don’t know if that is a problem so if you find difficulties reading please tell me and I’ll change it!
Vox is stressed and wants to reminisce old times, old friends, old feelings.
I got the idea for this from this fic by @starlight-write. I wanted to explore Alastor and Vox’s relationship before whatever happened between them.
I hope you all enjoy it!
~~~
Hell had changed a lot since Vox first arrived. He had met many Overlords who now weren’t ‘alive’ anymore, killed by Angels or by other sinners. He had seen Hell change its geography, different shops rising and then succumbing to nefarious fate.
He had met friends along the way, and he had lost them too.
Vox had learnt that the afterlife was just as complicated and confusing as his past life: people were hard to read, it was hard to understand their needs and, honesty, he wasn’t very good at accommodating them. Of course it was easy to solve people problems work wise (most of the times he was the one creating a fake problem and giving the public a new product as a solution), but when it came to personal business he couldn’t just hypnotise everyone. Well he could but…
He was alone in his personal room, monitors all over him, phones and computers all around him. Even if he was alone he was constantly under the spotlight. He knew he had to prove he was stronger. That he wasn’t scared of anything or anyone.
That’s how he would spend the majority of his afterlife: surrounded by his constant eyes, recording every movement he himself ever made.
So that’s why he felt so excited when he turned off every single monitor except for the bigger one in front of him. He shut down every camera or microphone around him. Unrecorded. Unregistered moments.
A shiver ran down his spine.
After seeing that ghost of his past back again after seven years of absence he had to see something. Something that was his and his only.
What he was looking for was an old memory, one that he had to update digitally from his old headset.
Everything was meticulously categorised so it didn’t take long before he found what he was looking for.
The video started.
And he was almost 45 years younger, he had a different - and much heavier - headset and an ‘old pal’ next to him.
They were in the middle of an animated conversation in a remote bar in the pride ring. Everybody was keeping their distance from them and the moody bartender kept sending them drink after drink.
«Television is much more than photography you radio obsessed demon. Television is alive, it’s thrilling!» Vox exclaimed standing up and stomping his foot on the chair in front of him. Alastor looked at the action with little to no reaction, his usual smile plastered on his face.
«You, young man, are as loud as a cow at the slaughterhouse. That is in no way an Overlord behaviour.» he said squeezing his shoulder and inviting Vox to sit again.
Vox blinked in confusion - and slight worry because of the metaphor - before pouting as a scolded child. He got himself back on the high stools next to the counter dangling his feet.
Alastor poured another whiskey in his glass.
«I admire your enthusiasm, but you have to understand that Hell is different from Earth. You cannot show demons your… moving pictures and expect them to simply follow you. You need to plan. To be strategic. Logical.» he offered the drink to Vox, who looked at the goldish liquid with skepticism.
Alastor’s smile grew bigger. «A peace offer?». Vox sighed and gulped it down in one shot, much to Alastor’s disapproval.
«I think you’re complicating your life too much! I can hypnotise people!» he pointed at his eyes as the pupil changed, but Alastor was unfazed.
«It doesn’t work on me.»
«Yeah I still have to understand why…» he sighed as his head started to spin. His face became a bit foggy, just for a moment.
That made Alastor grin wider. «Is the strong and powerful aspiring Overlord feeling a bit dizzy?»
«Fuck you I am not. You’re just-» he looked down at his empty glass and grabbed the bottle to refill it. «I am an Overlord! ‘M not aspiring to be anything you pompous-» but he was cut off by Alastor cupping Vox’s hands with his and helping him pour the drink. Vox’s heart skipped a beat as his antennas sparkled.
«You were saying?» he hummed, fully aware of what he was doing.
«Fuck you.»
Alastor’s smiled softened «Charming.» and Vox smiled back, rolling his eyes.
They had these kind of conversations every time they hang out. They would go to a bar and sit far away from everyone, start bickering, try to get a deal one from the other only to call it even and repeat this cycle every few days. Vox kept convincing himself that these encounters weren’t a big deal but things like that, like that genuine smile, made him doubt that.
Vox drank his whiskey quickly, just to see Alastor’s ear flicker in dismay, a gesture Vox had learnt to recognise over the years.
He took the bottle and refilled his and Alastor’s empty glass.
«You do not understand what it means to be an Overlord just as much as you do not understand how to enjoy your drink.» Alastor said turning on his stool and leaning with his back on the counter.
«AH! Alcohol gets you drunk. That’s the big meaning behind it.»
Vox was about to chug down his whiskey when he felt something brushing over his side. As he yelped Alastor snickered, trying to camouflage it with a cough.
«AÆl- he glitched - what are you doing?»
«As you can see I am not doing anything.» he said raising his hands to prove his point. Vox straightened his back, looking at his surroundings in confusion.
His fogged brain was trying to process whether there was a threat or not. He felt electricity build up in his body.
As he raised his glass, he felt it again, something brushing his side, just lightly, but, when he turned, his eyes could only scan thin air.
«What is going on?» he mumbled putting the drink down.
Alastor didn’t answer, but he was having fun. Vox could see it by that stupid tail of his that was slightly wagging.
If it was his doing… oh no.
The tendrils came out of nowhere and wrapped around his torso, caressing his stomach and sides slowly.
Vox felt electricity between his fingers and in his antennas. He clamped his mouth shut with his hands, slightly kicking his feet.
«Is everything alright Vox?» Vox shook his head, little sparkles all around him. That fucker…
One of those tentacles circled around the center of his tummy, caressing the blue skin. He could feel the tip lightly scratching the sensitive area, making his body tremble.
It was so agonisingly slow. The gesture felt both sweet and mean, as if it were Alastor’s fingers toying with him.
Then he increased the pace.
Vox’s face started trembling, the image of his expression danced on the screen for a moment, deforming his flat features. Alastor came closer to his prey, enjoying every second.
«Maybe it would be better if you just let yourself…-» the tentacles that were around his stomach changed direction and dug in his hips «…Laugh.»
Vox giggles sparkled, as static electricity vibrated around him. He tried so hard to contain himself, but once the first chuckle was out he could not stop.
«AHAHAHAHL nohohoho.»
«No? But I’m not doing anything my dear! I think you had one too many of these.» he said sliding away the man’s drink, saving it from being destroyed.
«Yohohou knohow dæ-ámňņ well what you’re dohohoing.» Vox managed to say while trying to push his tentacles away.
«Of course I do.» he got closer, more tentacles coming from all around him. Vox felt his heart pounding in his chest, his face a mixture of fear and excitement. A stupid wobbly smile was plastered on his screen.
«And you’re enjoying every single second.» had Vox been a little less drunk he would have probably tried to retort, but all he could do was stare at Alastor’s tendrils.
Two of them wrapped around his wrists, raising his hands.
«Oh noho don’t y҉̗͚͚̯̋̏̍̑O̸͎͕̒̽͐̏U҉͓̦̰̘̌́̏̾͆ DARE ALASTOR!» the tentacles danced in front of him, circling around his underarms. Two of them were near his sides, and no matter how hard he tried to pull at his restraints he couldn’t free himself.
«Oh how I like seeing you like this.» Alastor sighed «So helpless.»
«Ahahahahahl Ihihi ha-hatehehe yohohor stupid gahames.» he protested. He was still sat on his absurdly high stool, his feet trying to touch the floor to push himself back. But there was nowhere to run.
Every demon in the place had already fled, believing that the Radio Demon had found his new victim. Well they weren’t completely wrong.
«Do not lie to me.» Alastor caressed Vox’s screen with a single finger, and fake sweat flashed on his face. «You love my games. And besides, a powerful Overlord like you should laugh at the face of danger.» that actually made Vox titter.
Anything said by Alastor made him laugh.
«Let me see your smile.»
All of the tentacles attacked at the same time, some caressing his skin, some scratching at the fabric of his clothes. They were under his arms, on his stomach, meaningly attacking his hips.
The laugh that left his throat gave Alastor goosebumps. It was loud, the loudest he had ever heard from him and it was so… carefree.
All the sense of control, the pressure of becoming a powerful Overlord, the high standards the man held on himself all crumbled down. And he was just helplessly laughing in front of his friend, eyes closed, not afraid to be hurt.
Unfortunately for him he was definitely too sensitive though and the moment a tendril flicked his antenna he started to glitch.
«NOHOHOHOHŒĦØ-»
A spark of electricity made the entire place blackout for a moment, before the lights came back on. Alastor looked at the display of power both amazed and awed.
The man was really strong.
«Be careful my friend-» Alastor’s voice came from much closer than before «We wouldn’t want you to short circuit would we?»
He decided to give him a little break.
The moment the tendrils freed him, Vox turned his back and held the counter with both of his hands, looking for stability.
He could not stop the giggles and titters leaving his body, feeling even drunken than before even though the alcohol was starting to wear off.
However, before Vox could stop laughing, a single tentacle snuck under the his shirt, through his sleeve, slowly and gently caressing his underarm with its tip. The small movement was driving Vox mad.
He collapsed on the counter, laughter now pouring out of him. His feet were kicking the air. The free arm was pounding on the surface, not lucid enough to try to free himself.
He let his head rest on the table, the screen tilted toward Alastor.
«Yohohouh bihihihitch.» he giggled before trying to pry away a new tendril that was slipping under his shirt, targeting his stomach.
His feet kicked harder and quicker as he started to hiccup. «Ihi- IHĮĦĮ- chahaæn’ț.» his voice changed and distorted.
Alastor drank another glass, closing his eyes and enjoying the flavour.
«Sooo» he stood up next to the giggling mess. «Do we wanna make a deal?» he asked making his tentacles stop their torture and back away.
Vox took a few seconds to compose himself before lifting his head and facing the other demon.
Giggles were still stuck in his throat, threatening to leave his body at every word. «A deahal?» he straightened his back and fixed his shirt, now turning his entire body towards the friend.
«I’m not selling my soul for some T̵̲̫̈́̉͗̂͆-tickles. You can’t be that stupid.»
«I am not, my friend. And for once I do not care for your soul! Oh no no no! I would like…-» he let the anticipation roll on Vox’s nerves as he approached him with twitching fingers. «-for you to never drink whiskey in such an inconsiderate way. You either taste your liquor or you don’t drink at all. You do not gobble your alcohol. You understand that young man don’t you?» and as he pronounced the last sentence, he started tracing invisible circles on Vox’s sides.
Vox closed his eyes and the giggle that escaped his lips was a mixture of ticklish agony and amusement.
«Are you finding my request funny?» his fingers danced on his sides.
«Oh c’mohohn Ahahal.» he kicked his feet again, very careful not to hit the demon in front of him. «Ihiht is fuhuhucking hilariohohohus.» he managed to say.
Alastor was not amused.
«Well if you think this is hilarious I cannot imagine what you’d think of t̷̥̲͎͇̤̒̈́̔h̵̳̪̰͋̊ȉ̵̭̦̰̊̉̒s̶͈͉͙͕̥̅̚.» as his voice distorted he drilled his thumbs in Vox’s hips, scratching slightly under his clothes.
Vox’s face became black for a few seconds, before returning to his loud self, pounding with his free hands on Alastor’s chest.
«Such a sweet sound.»
«Ḍ̷̙̙̪̏́̏̒͊e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿ĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿ĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿l̸̳͓͔͇̗̋͌̈ ḍ̶̣͎͍͇̐̂̉̿̎e̷͎̘͌̈a҈̫͎͆̏̇l̵͉͚͓̃̄ ḍ̶̣͎͍͇̐̂̉̿̎e̷͎̘͌̈e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҈̫͎͆̏̇l̵͉͚͓̃̄.» his glitched and distorted voice came so soft to Alasto’s ear.
Alastor stopped with a chuckle.
«You enjoyed it.» he said before stepping away.
«Oh well don’t think I didn’t notice your tail wagging.» the tv demon whispered with a smile on his face.
Alastor turned himself, hiding his back and his stupid soft tail, a small blush colouring his cheeks.
Vox laughed again, a genuine laugh, and then grabbed his own glass. The older man way eyeing him, fingers ready to summon his power once more.
Vox drank slowly, feeling the warmth of the alcohol. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste.
Alastor smiled at him, the genuine smile reserved to these late night, where the alcohol in their veins made their heads lighter and their words easier to leave their lips.
The words Alastor pronounced forty-five years ago echoed in the empty room. They sounded sincere, no filter altering them, just honesty and liquor on his tongue.
«You’re like a sparkle in the night Vox. You make this dark world brighter with your smile. Remember that»
Vox closed his eyes and let out a sight. He hugged himself for a moment and let those words sink in, burning his soul.
He allowed himself to feel this way for a few seconds, before turning everything off and straightening his jacket.
He had to go now.
He needed to find out what that pompous old prick was planning.
~~~
I feel like I’ve been working on this fics for a month, but it’s actually been a couple of weeks.
I loved exploring Vox and Alastor’s dynamic and showing Alastor being kind of a mentor for Vox.
Initially Valentino had a part in this fic, but in the end his role got cut off, but who knows! I might explore their relationship and how it affected Vox and Alastor in future fics! In this universe (yeah, the one I created pretty much for this single tickle fic) Al and Vox originally had a strong relationship, something between platonic and romantic, that got ruined when Vox met Valentino and started hanging out with him (Even though I strongly believe that in the serie Vox was the one that fell in love and Alastor was just trying to get something out of him and eventually got tired of Vox and left him)
The first scene felt really like when Hamilton and Burr go drink together at the beginning of the musical ahahahaha.
I don’t know when will I publish the new fic, it will take me a long time before I am able to write so much again.
Let me know what you think guys 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
#tickle fic#hazbin hotel tickle#lee!vox#ticklish!vox#ler!alastor#i hope it’s well written I’m stressing so much#i started writing with no idea for a plot#but i can totally see Alastor getting mad for not drinking in tge ‘right way’#and Vox being an impatient little shit about it#idk I love them so much#and really I need to get lee!vox out of my system
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Mw3 spoilers (just a long personal ramble)
Hiii. So
As soon as the pre-release came out on, I hunted down spoilers, because I know myself and knew that if someone died and I got that information out of the blue, I wouldn’t take it well. Jokes on me, because I still haven’t been taking it well lol
I won’t talk about how Soap’s death was handled or the quality of the game. Plenty of smarter people are doing so.
I try not to talk a lot about myself and irl stuff on here, but will just say: I am very unwell, mentally. (Cue silence because that’s not surprising at all) Something I am very aware that I do, is that I latch onto fiction with my whole being, usually one specific character. For some reason, I always latch onto the character that ends up dead, usually in a way that make them only exist to further the motivations of other characters. It sucks.
So my hope for Soap has never been great, but for some reason I was still so shocked?? I don’t know, I tricked myself into thinking this time was different. Such an iconic character with so much good setup for great character development. I knew someone would die, but ow. To me, he was the element that made 141 seem more like family than coworkers. Soap’s interactions with the rest just livened up the games so much and made them all shine. Especially Ghost. Their dynamic, man.
Soap was the character that intrigued me enough to jump into the cod rabbit hole. It feels very hollow without him.
I keep telling myself that it’s silly to be so hurt over something fictional, and that I can just treat it as a mcd fanfic and move on, but nope. Brain’s stuck in the bad stuff. It’s a bad habit of mine to let something like this affect me so much, but well. Logic vs feeling and all that.
I really did find so much comfort in Soap this last year, that I severely needed. It feels a little like losing someone I know, someone who helped me through a rough time. I related to something in him and felt inspired. I only started writing after getting into ghostsoap, I started working out and I got back into art after a very long burnout. It may be fiction, but the impact is not.
So that was pretty much the worst case scenario of what mw3 could be to me. I always knew the risk, but, once again, ow. But there also seems to be plenty of good stuff in the game that I enjoy. I’m happy with the Ghost and Soap dialogue, the whole team working together and seeing Laswell and Farah and Alex and Nik. I hope I can be inspired by some of the new content once I’m calmer.
And I was worried they would ignore Ghost and Soap’s relationship after their development in mw2, but they genuinely seem to have gotten real close. It’s nice. I thought the shipping might scare the game devs into never having them appear in a scene together again, so that’s a plus.
Bottom line to all this is: I probably need a little break to get my head sorted. The grief is surprisingly real, it’s triggered some old stuff for me (haven’t been sleeping or eating, been stuck in some old thoughts). I’ll need to calm down and become a bit more normal about this again. Part of the grief isn’t so much about Soap himself, but also just the safe space that this account has been. The very nature of how the fandom is going to interact with Soap and Ghostsoap is going to change now, and man… I liked how it was, y’know? Could’ve used a little longer in that bubble. There’s going to be plenty of new fics and art, lovely stuff as always, but many of them will be tinged with grief, and I’m not in a place where that won’t break me a little.
I will hopefully come back to posting and making stuff once my brain settles down. I have so many drafts for fics and ideas that I hope I can return to. I’ve gotten so used to drawing these lads that I doubt I can stop tbh
The version of Soap that we love is already evolved from the games due to all the time and care the community has put into the character. The games may have killed him, but luckily, he’s fictional. We can do what we want, same as before.
I’m not even saying that I wish they hadn’t killed him. The games are crafting a story that fits their audience. It makes sense.
But I will choose to live in one of the many universes we’ve created for Soap, where he is alive and cared for, with a found family and a spooky lieutenant with a soft spot for him. Good for him.
Hope you’re all taking care of yourselves. RIP canon Soap (again). Thanks to Neil for a wonderful portrayal. And no matter where we go from here, thanks for a wonderful year of creating with you lovely folks. Seriously, some of the kindest people I’ve met in fandom. <3
Lastly: fuck you Kevin O’Reilly, but more importantly, sincerely thank you. (CallMeKevin video about mw2 got me into this mess. Otherwise I was keeping cod at an arm’s length, but he’s my fav youtuber, so I watched it. And here we are!)
#if u don’t wanna read: I’ll be taking a small break for mental health reasons but expect to be back and creating for this fandom again <3#mw3#mw3 spoilers#cod mwiii#mwiii spoilers#call of duty mwiii#ghostsoap#wispy update#always feel anxious posting anything emotional but feel like this one deserved a proper update#you’re all wonderful ppl ily#hopefully see you soon !
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[squints at the MCU] Tony Stark has displayed more ability to weather interrogation and torture than Steve Rogers.
This is "(displayed more)(ability)," not "(displayed)(more ability)," to be clear.
(I know fiction’s depiction of torture is famously propagandafied, but in this case, it’s not about torture for information so much as physical traumas shown on screen.)
(Anyway, have a rant I did on discord the other day.)
It's not really so much about "resisted the urge to hand over information" as "survived a truly harrowing experience and still came out of it trying to do good."
Tony's very first movie involves getting repeatedly drowned while in constant pain from bomb injuries as a civilian contractor, and I… don't think I can remember anything even a little similar with Steve
I don't think he's ever been captured for long before breaking out? All his injuries are in active battle, not torture.
Like... Steve went through something horrible with the ice and losing Bucky, nobody can argue that. But I think it's very telling, sometimes, that movie Steve, especially 2012 movie Steve, is completely unaware of the absolute nightmare that Tony experienced in his solo movies.
I have so many feelings about Tony Stark being the epitome of "guy who was raised and manipulated into being a bad person by someone he trusted, and (after a horrible experience) attempts to be a better person, constantly and consistently, even if he sometimes fucks up in the execution."
And the way that some fics elide his experiences in cleaning up other people's messes (first Obadiah's, then Howard's) and how that doubtlessly compounded his many neuroses from fixing messes that he did actually create himself is just
I have a lot of feelings
And am also feeling a little bitter and salty about how Tony Stark's MCU incarnation reportedly took some inspo from Elon Musk... and a little petty and satisfied about just how drastically we've all be shown that Musk can never live up to the idea of 'billionaire with inherited wealth who actually, without hesitation, risks his own life to save millions' that he tried to use PR to achieve in the media with 'my electric cars are gonna save the world' stunts about things he didn't actually have a hand in inventing
I'm just reading some fics I really enjoyed when I was still in the YA fandom, and there was a reference to a line Steve said in the movies and I started thinking (again) about how frequently fans take lines from Steve or Sam about Tony as gospel, because they haven't seen Tony's movies, and the lines from the star spangled boys are contextually meant to show that they don't know jackshit about Tony or his life, because they are directly contradicted by multiple prior films.
Also like... how often Steve's traumas get explored (in fic) in a way that Tony's just... don't? At most, his issues about Howard get explored, but that's it.
There's this moment in CACW that people take as Accurate and it infuriates me.
Tony Stark: [Back in the cell.] Just look. Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes. [He shows a holographic image of Doctor Broussard.] Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.
Sam Wilson: That's a first.
Which, like... it's a bad movie. Obviously. But also
That line is immediately followed by Tony revealing that he's here to help the others and is sabotaging the security to make sure Ross can't take advantage, and yet fanfic still uses Sam's quote to promote anti-Tony agendas!
And 'Tony admits he fucked up' is. Like.
Listen to me
Tony's first solo movie is fixing Obadiah's machinations. *
His second solo movie is fixing his Dad's fuckup.
His first team movie is fixing Thor's mistakes.
His third solo movie is fixing something that is only tangentially his fault.
It's not until AoU that the fuck-up is really his and his alone (well, not counting Bruce), and even then, even then, a massive portion of the blame is narratively laid at Wanda's feet!
And only then do we get this man, who has spent five movies seeing what happens when people don't take responsibility for their actions, or have anyone riding them to be ethical, who has criticized himself for neither having that oversight nor providing that oversight for people who snuck shit under his nose, that is when we get Tony weighing in on the side of "most countries on the planet are agreeing with this and it's for a reason, please work with me here, maybe we can get some of it rolled back to be less authoritarian and more reasonable."
* and removing himself from the military industrial complex he was raised and groomed to be in, but that's a system and not an individual act or a set 'villain'
Or as @firebirdeternal put it:
I would say that his first solo movie does have a large element of fixing his own mistakes too, it's just that his "mistake" was Trusting the Wrong Person and not taking personal responsibility for how his actions are affecting the world. (Which, he immediately does upon coming back from being captured? "We're going to immediately stop making weapons, because it's making the world worse" and then when Obadiah cuts him out of the company he goes "Oh. Okay no that didn't work, have to personally fix all this then.")
and yeah it's just
Tony have plenty of reasons to be on the side of "Someone needs to have oversight over this"
IM1 is such a good exploration of someone in privilege saying "this stops now" in a situation where they do have control because they have been confronted with their mistakes in a way that's unavoidable
It's also like, a great example of the fantasy of the Super Hero. Because Tony Stark, the businessman, even with all his wealth and knowledge, isn't able to stop the systemic harm being caused by His Own Company. One person isn't able to do that, even with the best of intentions. It isn't until he becomes something else, something more, a Super Hero, that he's able to make any kind of meaningful change on his own.
Like IM1 is just a phenomenal movie. It understood it's subject material so incredibly well.
And people skip it and then take Steve and Sam at their word about Tony's strength of character and moral convictions and I scream.
THIS MAN FLEW A NUKE INTO A WORMHOLE WITH THE FULL EXPECTATION THAT HE WAS GOING TO DIE
Yeah, like, that Jump on the Grenade mentality is something that he and Steve actually literally share.
They both had 'jump on the explosive to save people' moments in their introductory movies.
I find so much more strength and inspiration in stories like Thor and Tony, where they are inherently fuck-ups and were shitty people and they are trying so damn hard to be better, which is more Tony than Thor really, but both of them and their first movies are just. I find that more inspiring than Steve or T'Challa or any other hero who was already a good person and just Became Great.
Tell me about the person who has to struggle to find that moral choice. Tell me about Natasha dragging herself from her oceans of blood and Tony fighting the government over whether they have the rights to use weapons he's created and about Thor having to reckon with his family's power being born of imperialistic ravaging of other cultures.
I want to hear about the people for whom being good is hard and a choice they don't have to make, but then they make it anyway.
Also I stand by "I am Iron Man. [infinity snap]" being the most amazing bookend the MCU could have done and probably the best part of the Endgame.
#Tony Stark#character analysis#phoenix talks#MCU#Iron Man Movies#Iron Man#Avengers#AoU#CACW#AEG#torture mention
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A DC X DP IDEA #21
A PENNY FOR MY AND YOUR THOUGHTS #1…
The Justice League tries to understand the intricacies of the Ghost Zone and ghostly physics. Batman, in particular, attempts to apply logic to the supernatural world, leading to some hilarious debates with Danny who in return explains to Batman how his family’s and his version of physics breaks all logic.
…
You know this idea kind of came up to me, I’ve had my share of DC X DP crossovers of stories over the past year, and let me. Now that I’m talking out loud I found this hilarious cause tell you this opinion of mine was in the back of my head ever since
Logic is always present in the DC franchise whether it is their machines or some great evil weapons there is always some sort of explanation that uses science-defined words that can be translated into comic science. From magicians as well to magic shenanigans there is always some sort of logic behind each interaction. Batman uses full time to counter-act everything, and I mean everything in case they turn to the other side.
And there is DP…
I mean in all logic there is an absolute quack. The Fenton’s way a lipstick can be turned into some sort of laser gun against a ghost, okay two questions first how did they manage to cram the function to fire away a small yet precise blast towards the intended direction and second how did they even modify an everyday looking lipstick into that. The Fenton creep stick is just a baseball bat with a green sticker yet for some reason works on ghosts. Let’s not forget that the two eccentric ghost hunters have designed and built many of the ghost-hunting devices, often using household objects or repurposed machinery. I mean I saw the YouTube vids about how to build a bomb or even how to make your weapon made out of everyday machinery yet there are still machine parts that cannot be found in everyday appliances to ensure a functioning and safe weapon.
Let’s not also forget about the ectoplasm, the show repeatedly stated that ectoplasm is radioactive, sure there are the mutated dinners as well as some other stuff but the fact that it did’nt affect the other two children of the Fenton’s due to prolonged exposure of ectoplasm beneath there own home amazes me. I mean look at our everyday powerplant there is a huge distance between a power plant to civilization to avoid future problems, heck we are exposed to light radiation everyday. Doctors advise us to stay away from radiation or lessen our time spent with everyday radiation. Sure there are some fan fics about how the entire population of Amity Park is somehow contaminated and gained some sort of ghost ability like extra strength and glowing eyes but majority of them, Danny was the only one seeing that he had an entire dimension fall on him when he opened the portal.
Now mash the two fandoms together and you’ll see my mental image of Batman and Phantom debating the logic behind DP logics despite having the same two fandoms living in the same universe, while the rest of the League watches in great focus as they have never seen Batman so worked up before as well on how their new League member create such highly functioning weapons.
I mean if I saw someone create a staff turned into some sort of double-bladed lightsaber from household items, I would also question my sanity as well as my knowledge.
…
Just a thought of mine….don't mind me 😕😕😕
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Growing pains
Summary: How did Jeff and Rio feel knowing Miles was sneaking out with a girl?
Jeff's rant became background noise as she lifted the sweater in confusion.
It wasn't Miles, not just because it wasn't his size (she had needed to buy so many new clothes with his growth spur that she would know) but it was...feminine, she could even smell faintly some perfume.
Whoever left it was using it recently.
"-Babe are you backing me up in this one or what?"
Rio snapped back to reality as she felt her husband's hand on her shoulder, he looked at her still kind of upset yet more curious as to why she hasn't moved from that spot.
"Jeff, where is this from?" She asks immediately, not paying attention to whatever he has been insisting on her.
Arching an eyebrow, he didn't look too much into the item before shrugging with disinterest "I don't know, I normally let him choose whatever he wants as long as the price is okay; a better question is why his room is such a mess, maybe we should ground him an extra month for that-"
"Jeff" She called him again, trying to distract him from his authoritative-dad ideas "This isn't his, it has to belong to a girl."
The moment the word 'girl' came out of her mouth he seemed even more puzzled. Giving an actual look at the item from his wife's hands, he was trying to remember if he has seen it before "Does it belong to one of your nieces maybe?"
"I didn't remember seeing any of them using this, why it would be here anyways? We let the guest put their coats in the entrance, and I don't think either Ana or Camila would just leave this in Miles's bed for no reason."
As they both realized they couldn't recall anyone who could have this sweater, finally the other possible explanation popped into their minds. Not because it wasn't obvious, but more like-
"Is this happening now? It isn't too soon?"
"No, no no no, no way that boy brought a girl to our house, to his room, all while he is grounded." Just as quickly, Jeff was getting worked out again about this outrage.
Miles comes late (again,) with cakes that are falling apart, refuses to talk to them, and now he is hearing how he left his room to be with a girl?
Rio couldn't believe it either.
"This can't be right- He is too young to think of that!" She replied in disbelief.
She felt her husband's gaze rest on her as she stopped looking at the item (who could belong to? Maybe one of Miles's old friends from the neighborhood? As far she knew he stopped hanging out with everyone around here,) and saw the face Jeff always puts when he isn't sure how to tell her something.
"What?"
And her snappier response didn't seem to make him more confident about saying it.
"I mean- Look, don't get me wrong, we are both on the same side here" He prefaces, he needed to reserve all his energy to think how to get to that boy's skull that he couldn't do whatever he wanted, not to mention that when Rio got angry even he got scared. "But, he is fifteen honey."
"Yeah! A baby!"
"Well, not so baby, I mean at his age I was-"
The pointed look of Rio was all the information he needed to know he SHOULDN'T end that sentence.
"What I am trying to say, is that he is getting to a certain age mi amor, we cannot stop that."
Rio's shoulders fell, realizing how tense she was getting and this wasn't even going into how disobedient her son has been getting lately. As she looked towards the room (which was indeed a mess,) she saw the toys laying around, notebooks of old drawings pilled over the new ones that show his progress, she could almost see him as a toddler running around with a cape.
That felt like it was yesterday.
And now she had the sweater of a girl she doesn't know in her hands, in Miles' room.
Where did her little boy go?
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Since the Wip poll won, I decided to post this little thing that was actually, my first fic for this fandom.
I never got to publish it because it was missing two other scenes, but I decided to scrap it since the third one felt a bit too crazy, so I would do that idea for another thing.
So now while this is technically not a wip, I decided to publish it since I don't have any works in progress I can give sneak peaks for now.
Thanks for reading!
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best friends
a/n: this is my first fic in this fandom so i apologise if it seems a little out of character and incredibly rushed in the chapter but i just wanted to write a lil cute moment for spencer :)
i hope you enjoy and requests are open if you'd like to send something! 🤍
"This is so incredibly frustrating" Spencer muttered to Morgan who wrinkled his nose at he smelt the perfumes on the counter tops.
"C'mon genius there must be something here she likes. She's your mom, it should be easy" Morgan sighed and continued to prod the bottles while the Doc rubbed his forehead to ease some tension.
These headaches of his came in far more frequently and pained more then he cared to say. But his thoughts were interrupted by a ringtone and he looked at Derek who glanced down at his phone. He looked relieved to see it, hiding his micro expression from the other quickly.
But Spencer knew, he always did
"Ah I'll be back, give me a few minutes" He had already made his escape, eager to answer the call.
"Morgan... " Spencer rolled his eyes and went back to looking at the perfumes. They were all heavy on his nose and the workers were looking at him, expecting him to pay already. He had been way too long for someone browsing for an item.
The lights were harsh on his eyes and he sighed again in frustration, rubbing his temple. He walked forwards to a different counter, stumbling as his foot hit a bag.
"Sorry I-" He looked in front and there you were, stepping a few steps back to create some distance. So many words he wanted to say but not a single one passed his lips. That was until he glanced down and realised he probably tripped your bag.
You looked at him finally, your brows furrowed at the intrusion but it went slightly when you see the curly haired man stuttering an apology to you. You thought that was that and you turn away but he lingers a little longer than most would, internally debating with himself to say the next following words.
"Can I help you?" You tilt your head slightly, ready to guide him to someone else. Setting down the perfume in your hand, your eyes glance upon his. He seems desperate either to buy the gift or to get of the store, you didn't know.
"Um, I apologise but... you.... you're a woman right?" He sets down the perfumes in his hands and you nod, shrugging your bag on your shoulder
"10/10 observation" By the looks of his unruly curls and the stress lines on his forehead, you conclude he's present shopping for someone clearly rather important to him. It was sweet in a way. He cared so much about them.
"Do you need help?" You perk your eyebrow in curiosity, looking at the staff members that were all around.
"Sorry, I just... I know this sounds incredibly pathetic but it's my mothers birthday. And I have no idea what to get her. I don't suppose- I mean you're probably busy-" Spencer rambled, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. He had anticipated your rejection and he wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow him whole.
"So are you asking for my advice?" You clarified, chuckling a little. You see the look of relief that washes over his features.
"It's just that you seem like a well dressed woman and I need an honest opinion. Of course if you have places to be-" "No I can spare a few minutes, what does she like?" You don't particularly know why you help him, considering that you were also in a slight rush and needed to leave. But something about this man planted your feet in front of him, something about him you didn't know, forced you to stay.
"Roses, I think? But then there are so many that smells like flowers" He looked aghast at the perfumes bottles, his brain unable to comprehend which would be the better candidate for his mom.
"Well the one you're holding is more of a day perfume. Is there a reason why you're getting her a perfume, has she asked for it?" You inquired and he helplessly shrugged his shoulders a little. Blushing ever so slightly he rambled a little embarrassed by his lack of knowledge.
"No? Just women.... like perfume right?" Spencer awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, glancing to the floor in shame.
"Is it obvious I'm hopelessly pathetic?" He murmured, toying with the lid. He dares to make eye contact with you and you stare at him, giving a reassuring look.
"You want me to be honest?" "Slightly regretting it now"
"Most women at her age have a signature scent. Perhaps get her something like a scarf or a bag, something she can adorn alongside her own style?" You suggested, gesturing to the side. He didn't actually expect honesty that was actually beneficial let alone something he would actually consider and use.
"Thank you, that's really helpful" Spencer smiled and he turned his head towards the aisle, his lips dropping slightly as he saw the overwhelming amount of accessories.
You could've made your escape but yet you found yourself standing to his side, speaking once more.
"Do..... you need help picking out something?" "Please"
•••
"So the red or the brown?" "The red, it's beautiful" The silken scarf shone under the spotlight in the store and he gives you a thankful grin, quickly paying for his item. You turned to grab your bag as he comes back to you
"I just want to say thank you so much for taking time to save me from my own incompetence. I really appreciated it" He smiled softly and you felt your heart aching a little. The amount of time you spent with this man was so short and yet it felt like hours and hours, like you already knew him somehow.
"You're welcome...." You trail off just now remembering you hadn't caught his name and he sticks his palm out for you to shake. How easy he was to capture in a conversation, so interesting and yet you felt like there was so much more depth to him then he let on.
"Spencer" He speaks gently, your fingers graze his as he holds your hand. Such a common greeting yet it felt intimate to you. It felt personal, it felt right.
"Y/N. And you're welcome, it was lovely meeting you. I do hope your mom enjoys the gift" Your heart already hurts leaving him but you barely even know him so you turn away, knowing this interaction was going to stay for a while.
"W-wait..." He touches your shoulder and you turn around, the feeling of butterflies invading your body as he retracts his hand.
"Forgive the forwardness but perhaps you'd like to go out for some coffee? That is, if you're not busy. Of course if you are I-" You interrupt his rambling, unable to hide the small giggle that escapes your lips.
"Lead the way" Your lips tilted in a beautiful smile as his replicates its own, a warm feeling invading your body. Whatever this was, you looked forward to knowing. To experiencing.
To loving
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
tagged by @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @aroeddiediaz @underwaterninja13 @nmcggg @ladydorian05 thank you <33
How many works do you have on ao3?
right now it's 90! (57 of these are 911 lol)
What's your total ao3 word count?
535,450
What fandoms do you write for?
currently just 911, but I have some destiel and sambucky fics and who knows, I might get back to them at some point haha
Top 5 fics by kudos:
For a holiday (and forevermore)
I can't love you any more (than I do now)
I'd marry you with paper rings
the next best thing
There’s no way that it’s not going there (with the way that we’re looking at each other)
(they're all buddie and I just noticed that the top 4 are all over 1k kudos?? when did that happen lmao)
Do you respond to comments?
I do! sometimes it takes me a while bc i get lowkey overwhelmed lol but I always do!
What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
there's not a lot bc I prefer happy or hopeful endings, but I guess by post 6x10 fics? Fine and don't know what I'd do if your tomorrow never came idk lol
What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
most of my fics have happy endings, but I guess I'd say For a holiday (and forevermore)
Do you get hate on fics?
not really? got like one or two not very nice comments but generally no haha
Do you write smut?
yes I do 😁 not often and it always takes me forever but I do have two smut fics in the works (one buddie, one bucktommy lol)
Craziest crossover?
don't have any
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
no, as far as I know
Have you ever had a fic translated?
nope
Have you co-written a fic before?
no
All time favorite ship?
buddie
(ngl, bucktommy is a veeeeery close second rn🙈)
What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
there's two that have been fighting me for so long they're lowkey abandoned now and tbh I don't know if I still want to finish them? one is a 5+1 nicknames, and the other just a silly idea about eddie flirting with buck since they met but buck being veeeery oblivious lol
What are your writing strengths?
I think (usually) I'm pretty good at staying true to the characters and not making them too ooc (and I know when it's ooc, okay, I have one wip rn where I just don't give a fuck, I'm writing it anyway lol), and I can get into their heads pretty well. Also I think I'm good at the cute fluffy stuff lol idk
What are your writing weaknesses?
there's probably a lot lol - rn the one that comes to mind is descriptions probably, which is why writing fanfic where we have established characters and settings is so much easier than og stuff haha
Thoughts on dialogue in another language?
I don't mind it but I don't do it a lot aside from a pet name here and there bc I just don't wanna get anything wrong lol
First fandom you wrote in?
for tv shows supernatural, but before that I did write rpf which i just wanna forget about lol
Favorite fic you've written?
rn it's three:
we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide) - my tommy pov fic <3
I'm comin' back, don't let me go - buck driving/breakdown fic
baby, you drive me wild - car smut - might not be my best but it's my fave smut lol
tags: @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @loserdiaz @evanbegins
@wildlife4life @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway
@spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks
@rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @exhuastedpigeon
@jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @theotherbuckley @daffi-990
@hoodie-buck @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard
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STOP YOU DID SO WELL!!!!!!!!!
I know this is a lot all of a sudden but you're my favorite writer writing about my favorite fandom!
But if you aren't busy at all, can we get Eddie and Frank being parents to an emotionless (something happened and now they don't show any emotions) teen reader who only seems to show emotions around Wally or butterflies?
Like how do you think they'd react?
Your fine! I honestly didn't expect people to like my content so soon lmao!!
It took me so long to fine a goddamn image with these to together holy cap.
Edit: I had an idea that readers emotionless would relate to abuse but I completely forgot abt it so no trigger warning I'm terribly sorry about that.
Eddie and frank felt that their house was always missing something
It felt so empty
Until one day
You came falling from the sky
Right next to eddie
You of course startled him but he soon gained his composer
He was surprised to see a child? (again to them your still a kid)
But he realized that you might have been hurt due to the fall so he carried you all the way to him and Franks residents
Since Frank has a vast knowledge of many things Eddie thought he could help you
But they don't really have a concept of fleshy bodies nor injuries at least not cuts or blood
Only bruises
But he did the best he could
It's been at least 3 days since they brought you to their place
They fixed up the guest bed room to be yours since they figured you didn't have a home
When you woke up you seemed so neutral
Definitely not normal
At least to them
They asked you questions and you answered with a monotone voice
They practically adopted you after a week of having you
You were the thing, or person that they've been needing
To fill that empty space
After month you were able to leave their home with or without them
But you usually stayed by their side choosing to
The first person to really see your emotions was Frank
He was in his butterfly dome and you joined him
Frank was studying a new butterfly that he had captured, after a while he started to hear soft giggling.
Soon the giggles turned into laughs of joy
Frank turned to see you well a form of you, you were covered head to toe in butterflies, laughing, smiling.
He's glad you were able to show emotions to at least something, he was also extatic to know that it was butterflies.
After a while you decided to join Eddie on his journey to deliver mail to the other residents and friends
You went to every house
The last one was the home of Wally darling
A small yellow man with blue puffy hair
Puffy hair that you couldn't resist to touch
You stared in awe of the blue haired man or puppet.
And wally noticed
"Well hello neighbor!" Wally said greeting you.
You didn't say anything only stared
You didn't even hear Eddie say to wally about you being emotionless and a bit mute
Before both of them knew it you were touching Wally's hair like it was a cat, making sure not to rough it up or destroy it.
Wally of course was surprised but chuckled and invited you into his home allowing Eddie to continue delivering mail.
Before Eddie left he told you he'd be back to pick you up.
You spent the rest of your day with Wally laughing and smiling. He became your uncle.
It's been 2 years now you still haven't seemed to age but you didn't mind
Your parents still haven't seen any emotions from you
Unless your with Wally or the butterflies
Which makes them sad
But you slowly show them emotions little by little which is definitely progress
Progress that they will cherish
{Thank you anon for requesting another fic! And I'm glad you liked the last one! And as always hearts and re-blogs are always welcomed along with requests and questions!}
#x reader#gender nuetral reader#fluff#welcome home x reader#platonic x reader#frank frankly#eddie dear#welcome home Frank#welcome home eddie#platonic wally darling#wally darling#welcome home wally#platonic#gn reader#teen!reader#emotionless reader
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hii do you have a list of miraculous fics you think everyone should read at least once?
Anon, I have been excited to answer this request ever since I got it. What better way to celebrate my 50th Rec List (!!!!) than with my favourite fandom fics? 🎉🎉🎉
I've tried to choose fics with a variety of tones, from different fandom eras, and different authors. These fics are all special to me in some way, and whittling this list down was HARD. Others may have fics they think should be on this list, and to those people I say: make your own rec list. This one's mine. 😘
Experimental Kisses by @komorebirei
Ladybug watched him. Maybe it was guilt, maybe sympathy, maybe a streak of playfulness. Maybe the traumatic akuma experience had softened her up. Whatever the reason, a thought wafted lazily through her mind and out of her mouth. “You know… you’re right. It isn’t fair, is it?”
Chat Noir looked up.
“I remember my first kiss, but you don’t.” She hummed and tapped her chin, making a show of remembering. “It wasn’t a bad kiss, but we were in the middle of fighting an akuma, so I didn’t get to enjoy it much, either.”
Oops��that came out sounding a little, no, a lot more flirty than she had intended. Anyway, if she was going to commit to this idea, she may as well go all in.
One-shot. Ladybug offers to kiss Chat since he doesn’t remember their kiss and the way she reacts to the kiss…it lives in my mind rent-free. I have fallen asleep many a night fantasizing about what the repercussions of the kiss might look like. One of my absolute favourite Ladynoir fics.
team is a four letter word by @ladyofthenoodle
Alya didn’t want to come between Ladybug and Chat Noir. But she didn’t want to stop being Rena Rouge either. And if Chat Noir didn’t want to talk to her, then she’d need to find a different way to prove all three of them could be a team.
Her plan unintentionally brings a few secrets to light, which leads to even more secrets coming to light, which leads to… well, Alya is sure it’ll all work out eventually.
Multi-chapter. Warning, this fic is a WIP! (But there’s only one chapter to go.) Honestly, I didn’t want to have any WIPs on this list and I was lowkey hoping that it would be finished before I posted this list but I’m obsessed with this one and couldn’t leave it off. It’s literally one of the BEST fics in the entire fandom and, I think, the absolute best delving into the characterization and relationship dynamics of the core four. This fic feels so dynamic and complex, with all of the characters feelings so like themselves and each having their own distinct voices. The conflict is so well done and so realistic. It’s such a fantastic tackling of the issues that came up in the last couple seasons and I cannot rave about it enough!!
œuf ouch owie by @ominousunflower
Chat Noir enlists Rena Rouge's help to create an Aspik illusion. Absolutely nothing goes wrong.
Ladybug smiles. “I wanted to drop by and welcome Aspik. I know it must be a little intimidating, being surrounded by so many veteran heroes…so, welcome! We’re glad to have you on board.”
“I look like an egg!” Aspik announces, T-posing.
Chat turns to Rena, feeling like he has been punched in the solar plexus. What the hell? he mouths.
Rena grimaces, her eyes wide with panic. Stomach sinking, Chat remembers one of the first things he learned about the Fox Miraculous: that if Rena Rouge isn’t focused, her illusions go haywire.
Oh, no.
One-shot. This is hands down the FUNNIEST fic in the entire fandom asdfghjkl like I have read this fic at least 50 times and I still laugh out loud every single time. If you have somehow failed to read this fic before, read it now. You won’t regret it!
lucky (we're in love in every way) by @carpisuns
Chat Noir is Adrien, and Marinette is freaking out. If she manages to quiet her internal screaming, maybe she can also find the guts to tell him her identity too. And maybe they'll actually live happily ever after—well, as soon as Tikki and Plagg are done humiliating them.
One-shot. This fic just makes me so incredibly happy. Like it puts a smile on my face every single time I read it (and I have read it many, many times!) I love Marinette’s reactions and Adrien’s sweetness and the kwamis just absolutely ROASTING both of them. Marissa has written a ton of amazing fics for this fandom (seriously we are so lucky to have her) and I was tempted by others (like tell me something i don't know) but in the end, I had to follow my heart with this one.
Your Kitty by @gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights
“Such a dramatic kitty.” Marinette scratched under his chin, bringing a smile to his face and a purr to his throat.
Your kitty, he didn’t say.
Wait. What?
(The one where Chat Noir thinks he needs pats like a cat, only to find out he may have jumped to the wrong conclusion.)
One-shot. When I think of Marichat, this is THE fic I think of. Adrien being touch starved is 100% my headcanon now. This is just so sweet! Marinette’s affection and Adrien’s determination to do the right thing no matter the personal cost and the way they fell for each other without meaning to... Also I love that they both encouraged the other to go back to their original crushes because that makes so much sense!!
rattle my cage by @lnc2
In which history, despite Alya's best efforts, does not repeat itself.
One-shot. I am always here for Adrien being rash and Marinette being smart and capable and just switching to treating him as Chat absolutely seamlessly after a reveal. I absolutely love the vibes of this one.
Chasing the C/h/atwalk. by @runningoutofink
Paris. The city of lights, love and fashion. Follow the progress of Marinette Dupain Cheng as she enters the extremely competitive world of Reality television for a chance to be the winner of Project Runway: France.
Multi-chapter. It should come as no surprise by now that I’m a sucker for reality tv and this is my absolute favourite reality cross in the fandom! I love that it’s canon compliant, and frankly the idea of Marinette and Adrien as designer and model on Project Runway is friggin’ BRILLIANT. The slow burn and pining are delicious, and the identity reveal is incredibly well done! (And it has a steamy sequel, Meet me in the Middle, which is 🔥🔥🔥 and intensely satisfying after all of that build up.)
daydream by @clairelutra
you're my daydream
you know that i've been thinking about you lately
In which Adrien finds out Ladybug is Marinette, and beats the 'this is fine' dog at his own game.
One-shot. Shout-out to the author for realizing way before canon let on that Adrien is way more likely to figure out Marinette than the reverse! And then absolutely murdering us with this intense slow burn that absolutely drips with mutual pining and UST.
What Will You Do When Everyone Knows? by @sariahsue
They stepped in closer, shoulder to shoulder to catch the akuma as she landed, but she twisted in midair, landing squarely in front of Cat Noir, swiping at him. He stepped back, trying to keep his balance. Her fingertips almost touched his face, and Ladybug felt her stomach lurch.
“Duck!” she yelled to him as she whipped her yoyo around. He did, but unfortunately, the akuma woman did, too. Ladybug suddenly had no target to latch onto and lost her balance. Her stomach twisted again as she pitched forward. Black hands darted forward to catch her, but too late she realized it wasn’t her partner. Cold gloves caught her shoulder and neck, then slid up her face, brushing past her earrings. Cold. The woman’s touch froze Ladybug’s breath in her throat.
Then there was something warm around her middle. Cat Noir’s shout sounded distant as he pulled her away. As the woman’s black gloves left her face, Ladybug felt even more heat being pulled from her, along with… something else.
Multi-chapter. There really isn’t another fic in the fandom like this one. The akuma is original and provides an absolutely amazing premise for this fic. We have mystery, intrigue, and a huge upset to the status quo with the public revealing of Ladybug’s identity. I also loved the dramatic irony of Marinette being unable to understand Chat’s reactions to things that make perfect sense to us readers. It’s got amazing characterizations and suspense, and I love it!
But All I’m Seeing Is You by @chelseaapproved
After Ladybug finds out Adrien is her Chat Noir, they start dating. She didn’t think it’d be so hard to keep her identity a secret from him. She also didn’t realize how much it would affect her friendship with him as Marinette.
One-shot. This might be my favourite ladrien of all time. It’s only about 5k, but man does it ever pack in a lot of emotion and relationship development and I really, really, really love it. I really felt how much they love each other in this one and Marinette is just so, so wonderful to Adrien and he’s so wonderful to her and if you haven’t already please read this.
A Miraculous Reveal by @kasienda
Series of one-shots and drabbles all centered around The Reveal Moment. Identities will be revealed, feelings will be confessed, and secrets will be discovered through contrived situations, accidents, meddling friends, desperate moments, and moments of emotional vulnerability. Each chapter is a self contained piece. Love-square focused, but will not remain exclusive to them. Each chapter will have its own trigger warnings.
Collection of one-shots. I feel a little like I’m cheating in including a collection here, but like most of us in this fandom, I’m an absolute sucker for identity reveals, and @kasienda is especially talented at writing them! Every single one of these is beautiful, amazing and worth reading at least once.
the wonderful part of the mess that we made by heresie_irisee
They knew.
They knew, and there would be no magical reset button for the memories they'd made today. She'd have to see him at school every day, and she'd see the Chat in him, as surely as he'd see the Ladybug in her.
One-shot. Oblivio is probably my favourite episode and this is such a great alternate take on it. The mutual pining is so, so, so good! Especially love Marinette struggling to assimilate Adrien’s identities and Adrien’s obliviousness.
The following fics are amazing and absolutely worth reading, but do feature sexual content, so minors beware.
The Ladybugs and The Bees by @bullysquadess
AKA the early-fandom Ladynoir puberty fic that spiraled waaaaay out of proportion.
Multi-chapter. I’ve avoided reccing this fic for so long as it was literally the most kudosed fic in the entire fandom when I joined. However, the kudos are well-earned and I can’t make a list of must reads without including it. I love the ladynoir, the way it builds slowly, the focus on the developing relationship, both physical and otherwise, the yearning and the devotion and the vulnerability. And, of course, the steamy scenes are fantastic!! The whole thing is just so well developed and feels so grounded and real. I absolutely love it.
one night of moonlight by @mirthaculous
i’ll always think of you
inside of my private thoughts
i can imagine you
touching my private parts
2:13 ok im texting you now like i promised instead of drunktexting adrien and telling him how badly i want his cock tonight. arent you proud of me?
2:19 this is Adrien, hi.
Marinette’s brain-to-mouth filter isn’t great on the best of days. Add some beer and some misplaced texts, and things get a little more… interesting.
One-shot. Rated M. This is one of my favourite fics of all time. This is so steamy, seriously the UST is off the charts!! It is absolutely unreal how much these two want each other and the mutual pining and they’re so stupid and this fic literally killed me and I thanked it.
#ml#miraculous ladybug#ml fanfic#ml fic rec#ml fic recs#ml love square#adrienette#adrinette#ladynoir#marichat#ladrien#prpr#identity reveal#fic recs#jennarecsml
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Here for DG crumbs 🥹
with a non fighter, average reader like she is average and doesn't have much that stands out to her and is a dg simp. She simps hard for this man. Not a toxic or psycho fan but a supportive one
It would make my day if you could do this really! We need more dg content!!🤧
Oh right! it could be James with an average non fighter s/o as well
Thank you for reading ❤️
Ask and ye shall receive, here's a strangers to lovers (which turned out quite lengthy...)! Did this fandom just make me like DG? This plain noodle man?!
DG x Reader: Stranger to Lovers
Half fic, half hc. A normal reader comes across DG
DG came across you on one of his lonelier nights.
He knows he shouldn't be reading articles and posts trashing him, but curiosity killed the cat.
His ego is feeling uncharacteristically bruised until he comes across your comment.
You're sweet, supportive and understanding of how hard it can be in the public eye. It cheers him up that some fans still see him as human.
He takes note of your social media name but doesn't take it any further.
Fate brings you together at a fan event (actually no, your meet and greet tickets did) but the first thing that draws DG to you is your eye contact.
He's met many fans and almost all of them avoided looking at him and were giggly and shy. It's to be expected. You are the first one that looked at him squarely head on.
You didn't go crazy or ask for a lock of his hair (like some of the other more wild fans), but thanked him for what he doing in the industry.
You're articulate even as pink dusts your cheeks.
And then you kept talking and you repeat what he read that night.
He files away that info for later.
When DG finally has his moment of peace, he quickly taps in that username in the hopes that it's you.
It is.
The same person in the profile pic that posted the kind comment is also who he met mere hours ago.
It brings a little smile to his face.
Another lonely night, without any practice schedules, PTJ Entertainment issues or James Lee loose ends meant DG had time on his hands.
He's spent enough time looking through your profile and posts over the past couple weeks, whenever he could grab a minute here or there.
You're pretty normal in every sense of the word, a world removed from DG and James Lee.
He couldn't stop thinking about the idea of you.
Biting the bullet, and using a pseudonym, he sends you a message - starting a conversation based on something you last posted about.
He receives a reply within the next 20 minutes and that was that.
The hours turn into days turn into weeks turn into months.
DG finds himself stealing time so he could respond back to you.
He lets you in on vague details about his life and you tell him all about yours.
In another life, he thinks he could have been similar to you. Normal. With normal hobbies and interests. Normal issues and headaches. Normal family and normal friends.
A normal past and normal future.
You're a golden ray of truth and light cutting through his secrecy and darkness.
DG finds himself wearing a coy smile more and more from your interactions, from your late night 3am messaging and your 'good mornings' and everything inbetween.
It doesn't go unnoticed. To the extent that rumours float around that he has found a special someone. He abruptly and coldly shoots that down.
But unable to hold back anymore, one morning he asks if you want to meet up.
DG knows how it sounds: meeting a stranger (a strange man). But he feels a bond with you, one he's never had before, and hopes you feel the same way.
The minutes until your response dragged and stretched.
Until you finally put 'Ok'.
He could feel your hesitation across the screen. Usually so full of life and excitement and emotion, this simple one worded response isn't like you.
He backtracks but you're now the one insisting.
A date and location is set.
In a quiet coffee shop, set away from the main street but popular enough to not be too secluded, DG finally meets you in person again.
Did he truly think you were normal the first time he met you? How odd.
Because now he finds you radiant, beaming, glittering. Like sunshine, like moonlight.
Anything but normal.
He calls you over, and your eyes light up as you go to meet him.
You greet him by his username, but freeze when he pulls his mask down. That face would be recognised by all of Seoul.
"DG?!"
This meet up doesn't last long.
You flee in embarassment, having spilled all your secrets to one of the most famous man in South Korea as he kept his identity and life hidden away from you.
DG understands how you must how felt, the mortification. And the deception as he hid the biggest secret from you most of all.
He sits with his head in his hands.
DG doesn't hear from you for a few days, and the distance and silence feels cavernous.
It hits him like a truck that over time, you became his confidant, his best friend. Someone he could talk to and feel like a person.
He is the first one to reach out and he apologises.
He says what he can about his life, his current life. Hoping that this makes it up to you somehow.
That he promises to be truthful to you, where he can, but there are still some things he's not ready to say.
That he understands you feeling betrayed he kept his identity secret, especially during all those times you unknowingly gushed about how much you liked him.
That even though it was fair to keep his identity a secret, he should have told you as soon as it was appropriate. A lot sooner than at the cafe.
That this was something he started because of his ego, but continued because he likes you.
That he's never felt this closeness with anyone else.
That he's not sure if anyone has ever seen him properly as a person. Until you.
That he would like a second chance. Please.
Hope against hope, you eventually respond.
You ask to meet again in the same place.
In a quiet coffee shop, set away from the main street but popular enough to not be too secluded, DG meets you in person for the third time.
DG waits, anxiously fiddling with a bouquet of roses. He never does this.
You enter, and illuminate the room.
This time DG calls you over, and you give him a shy smile
He presents the bouquet, and you accept.
You become the starlight guiding and comforting him during the lonely nights.
#lookism#lookism manhwa#lookism webtoon#lookism x reader#lookism fanfics#lookism fic#diego kang#kang dagyum#dg x reader#lookism dg#lookism headcanons#lookism hc#james lee#james lee x reader#wannaeatramyeon#kang dagyeom
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Then and Now
Summary: The boys want a second pass at that fucking money. They need your help. The only problem is that you and Santiago aren't talking, not anymore, not since everything went so sideways.
Pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader
Word Count: ~15.5k
Warnings: angst, pining, canon level violence, lots and lots of cursing, PTSD and assorted metal health issues, smut (p in v), best friend Benny Miller (yeah it needs a warning), reader has a nickname (Blue) in the same way the others do (Pope, Fish, etc.) sparingly used
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please forgive anything that is militarily inaccurate/inaccurate to the ravine location, I changed some things to fit the story better. I am so very aware I'm basically writing in what is probably a dead fandom for a meh movie. That doesn't matter to me, what matters is all that Oscar Isaac ass and the fact that this is genuinely my favorite movie at the moment. That, and when @velvetofyourheart asks for something, I can't really say no.
Tanya, thank you so much for your wonderful idea and always encouraging my aquarius god-complex. This is your fic, you own it. This is your Santi, never let anyone tell you any differently. I love you. Happy very belated birthday.
Now
Fog is still rolling over your front yard when Benny Miller’s familiar jeep swings into your driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires.
You sit down your cup of coffee, the many rings lining your fingers clinking against the ceramic, and huff out a breath at his audacity, showing up at your place so early in the day.
The morning is muggy but cool, condensation beading along the porch railing where your feet are propped up, booted feet crossed at the ankle.
The jeep’s headlights go out and the driver’s side door pops open. Benny smiles at you when he climbs out, giving you a big, exaggerated wave before he lopes over, all sweetheart golden retriever energy.
Benny is big feelings and big gestures in a body that would never be enough to trap it all inside, that could never cage all that wild energy.
“Well, fuck,” you say when he climbs the porch stairs. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
You haven’t seen him in a couple weeks.
Benny, who you used to see daily.
But not anymore, not since he came home beat to hell and looking like a lost dog. Not since he told you everything that happened in Colombia.
Not since he told you how Tom died, how everything they did was so fucked.
Wouldn’ta happened if you were there. You keep our heads on straight. He had told you that day, crying like you were kids again on your back deck in the setting sun.
Benny laughs and leans against the banister, a brown folder held in one hand. You eye the folder as you flick open the pack of cigarettes in your lap, knocking out a smoke and lighter. “Whatever it is,” you nod at his hand, “The answer is no.”
“You don’t even know what it is,” Ben says innocently. “And you know they say those things will kill you.”
“Fuck you, Miller, this is my one indulgence,” you say amicably as you light up, blowing smoke away from him.
Coffee and a cigarette on your front porch each morning before work, before driving half an hour into town to serve bitchy local teens still half coked out of their minds from the night before and surly truck drivers just passing through town - that was your indulgence, that was all you could allow yourself, all you could afford most days.
Benny reaches up to pull off his ball cap, runs a hand through his hair and replaces the hat backwards, before he sighs. “We’re going back for that money. We need you there. Can’t do it without you, obviously. First time you aren’t with us and everything goes to hell.”
You scoff, taking a long drag on your cigarette, holding in the nicotine for a long moment before you exhale through your nose, “You’ve gotta be kidding, Benny.”
“Not a chance,” Benny says, weirdly serious, “Not with this. Someone else is gonna find it and then what?”
“Suppose it goes to the next drug lord in line,” you raise a brow at him. “Y’all are really going back for that money? That got Tom killed? Didn’t you fuck it up enough already? Leave it lie, it's cursed.”
Benny winces and straightens, moving to drop heavily onto the wooden porch swing hanging from the ceiling. It creaks beneath him as he leans back and sighs, sounding more exhausted than you’ve ever known him to be.
“Redfly wouldn’t want that money falling into the wrong hands.”
“Yeah he’d want it in his hands,” you snap, feeling only slightly guilty about talking ill of the dead. “Or did you forget what happened down there?”
Benny doesn’t say anything for a moment, cornflower blue eyes staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, well, he won’t be there this time.”
“So why go back? Pope’s greed eating at him again? You know you guys don’t have to do everything he says.” When Benny doesn’t say anything, you glance over at him, watch the way he sighs lightly and the circles beneath his eyes seem to deepen in real time. “Hey, I’m sorry, Ben. That was cruel of me.”
You stub out your near finished cigarette and grab your cup of coffee, crossing the porch to slide down next to him and knock your cup into his leg. “You look like you could use this.”
He takes the mug from you, drawing a long swig of coffee before he hands it back to you.
He eyes your hands, taps one finger against yours. “You still wear Santi’s ring.”
Santi’s ring.
It wasn’t an engagement ring, no, you’d have to be in a relationship for that to have happened. He’d picked it up at a flea market somewhere, polished it up himself and presented it to you like it meant nothing.
I know how much you like rings, he had said simply, nodding at the many rings that lined your fingers.
You never take it off.
You sigh and lean back, your shoulder brushing Ben’s as you both stare up at the cobwebbed ceiling. “Just because he hates me, doesn’t mean I feel the same way about him.”
He doesn’t comment on that and the silence stretches between you for a long time.
Ben eventually says your name and you roll your head toward him to meet his eyes. You can tell he’s thinking exactly the same thing you are - that you both look exhausted. You’ve known Benny since forever and reading him is like looking at a jumbotron at a Marlins game - so fucking obvious it was painful sometimes.
“You really wanna keep doing this forever? Stay in this shithole town and do nothing? Serve the fuck ups at that diner?” Benny pumps you, poking your sore spots. He knows you hate being trapped, hates the stupid town you live in. “Treated like shit? Making no money? No thanks for the sacrifices you made?”
You roll your eyes, “You sound like Pope. Save it, Ben.”
“Maybe he’s right about some things. Listen, we paid our dues to Tom’s family. We went through hell and everything is still the fucking same. Maybe we deserve that money.” When you don’t respond immediately, he continues, “Think about it. Hard part is already done. Money’s already stolen, we just gotta go pick it up.”
“Actually got a plan this time though?” You ask, knocking your knee into Ben’s. “Shit went so sideways last time.”
He looks away from you, bangs a fist against his thigh and stands, pacing around your porch as you watch, the Florida heat finally starting to creep in for the day. “It’s gotta be easy. In and out.”
“Aren’t Lorea’s men still in the area? Or whoever’s running the place now? Didn’t half the fucking town see your faces?”
“Who says we need to go into that town at all?”
“Ah. So there is no plan.”
“There is,” he nods at the folder he’d left on the swing next to you. “Santiago’s got something started.”
Santi.
An image flashes through your mind, of him standing on this very same porch, the roar of thunder and rain in your ears as a midnight storm passed through, the din of it so loud as Santiago stood there and hollered at you.
“You really won’t do this with us?” His voice had been harsh, a lingering accusation on his tongue. “When one of us bleeds out and you aren’t there, that’s going to be on you.”
You had recoiled, felt that sting like a slap. “Fuck you, Pope.” And you saw him flinch at the use of that name. You never called him that, you always called him by his true name. “Don’t blame your greed on me. Don’t pretend this is about anything else than that money. Lorea is a sideshow at best to you.”
“And don’t you fucking pretend like this life is enough for you! Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t do anything to get out of this fucking town!”
His hair had been damp, sticking to his forehead, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “I already did, Santiago. We’ve all been to hell and back already.” You had shaken your head, “And this is my line. I’m not fucking up those communities anymore than they already are.”
Santi’s face hadn’t changed, but his eyes had burned hotter, scorching into you. You’d touched a nerve and you knew it. “You’re a coward. I’m not even asking you to take fire. Not like before. Something happens to one of us, don’t bother coming to the fucking funeral. You’re leaving us a man down and without med support.”
“So that’s all you want me to do, huh? Come with you and play nurse? Fuck off, I’m the best shot of any of you.”
“Yeah and shit at everything else. There’s a reason we stuck you out as the sniper. Keeps you away from anything important. But now you’re leaving us without cover.”
And that, that fucking stung, you’d recoiled from him and said quietly. “Fine. I was useless all those years. My answer is still no.”
And without another glance at you, he’d walked off your porch and out of your life.
Only when Benny showed up after Tom was already in the grave did you find out what happened.
Now, you shake your head and glance at the folder, you can see the edges of a few documents poking out. “Did he send you?”
“No. No one knows I’m here. Except Will.” Of course, anything Benny knew, Benny had already shared three times over with his older brother.
“I think you’ve forgotten, Ben. Pope hates me. It’s all my fault shit went sideways for y’all.” You swallow, “According to him anyways. I left you without cover.”
It’s what you know Santi would say to you, if he’d talk to you again.
“You know he didn’t mean any of that shit. He was just pissed he wasn’t getting his way,” Benny says, still pacing the porch, floorboards creaking with every long stride. “He was just pissed he couldn’t get all of Delta back together. What happened wasn’t your fault.”
But as much as you miss Tom, as much as you had mourned him, you can’t help thinking about how much worse it would have been if it had been Benny or Will.
Or Santi.
Fuck, Santiago could have died, and that would have been on you.
A member of your family had died and you hadn’t been there, you hadn’t even been allowed to mourn.
You roll your eyes now and pick up the folder, sliding the edge of your nail beneath the thick cardstock.
But the pain in your heart lingers as you think about the anger in Santi’s eyes that day. The knowledge now that your absence might have caused a rift in the team, that Tom’s reckless play for more money than any of them could handle and Will’s wounded side slowing them down might be your fault for throwing off team dynamics.
“I get why you couldn’t do it then. But now? No one has to get hurt now. Someone worse finds that money, then what happens?”
You’d grown up with the Millers, met Santiago when you went with Benny into the army and eventually got recruited to Delta.
It had been the only way to make it out of your small town, with no money for college and no scholarship opportunities despite your grades, you’d felt it was your only chance. And going with Benny to the recruitment center to follow Will, who’d left a few years before, hadn’t seemed so bad.
You had stuck by Benny and to your surprise, or maybe to no one’s surprise, both of you were good at it. Good at shooting and killing and clawing bloody tracks into the ground beneath your feet. Good at ruining and destroying, good at being disciplined and regimented and hard. Good at following orders and being better than everyone else.
You and Benny were to become the babies of Delta Force, the younger pair that always seemed to lag a bit behind the other four more mature and experienced guys. If it weren’t for Will, you might not have been placed in the same unit. But Will had been adamant about recommending both of you, about placing both of you with Delta.
And the superiors had gotten tired of fighting with him.
Benny and Will were the brothers you never had, the family you always wanted.
Santiago and Frankie and Tom only pulled you in tighter, only made you cling on harder, gave you something solid to hang onto.
Santiago. God, Santiago.
You wanted him the moment you saw him, with that curling hair that grayed as the years wore on, with those crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled that deepened every year, with the way that he stared at you like you held the secrets of the universe, with a gaze so feverish and consuming it was hard not to be pulled into his orbit, right to the center of his world.
Santiago pulled a little too hard, loved a little bit too intensely. You’d known the second he showed up at your place that stormy night that whatever he had to say to you was about to break you, that he was about to rip the thread that he had wound around his fingers since the second you met him right out of your heart.
Something about Santi was so magnetic, so intense, you couldn’t look away, pull away, if you wanted.
He annoyed you to no end, shielded you from nothing despite your awards and metals for excellency in the field, despite your being on a fucking special ops team, and one of the only women to do so no less. He and Tom had taken one look at your record the day you were reassigned to them, and advocated for your shooting skills, that you worked best at a distance, and had taken you under his wing.
You wanted to slap him and you loved him and he was so complicated that you wanted to cry just thinking about it.
Santiago was also lonely, lonely in the same way you were.
You could be in a room full of people, surrounded by those you loved, and still feel separate, apart, alone.
Santi was the same - and so you drifted together.
You were something undefined for years and maybe that was the problem.
There was a tension neither of you dared address when you were in the service together, not when things were so terribly dangerous at all times, not when feelings could get everyone killed, could have the team that was like a family pulled apart by superiors.
When your time was up and as your honorable discharge along with the rest of Delta approached, things got more real, too real. Santiago was always there at your periphery, like a wraith you couldn’t ignore.
He was the nucleus of your world, the center of your universe, and you wanted to hate him for it.
“You and Miller gonna shack up after all this, hermosa?” He’d asked one of those last few nights together, at a base canteen.
You’d looked up from the beer you were nursing. “Which one?” You tried to joke, but it didn’t land, and the tension between you thickened until you felt you might choke on it.
You had never wanted to kiss someone so bad, Santi tilting his head toward yours until he was all you could see, everything else blotted out, until the smell of his aftershave threatened to drown you or resurrect you.
“C’mon Blue. Ben seems keen on it,” he notes.
“Benny’s got more than he can handle as it is.”
You don’t know why you hadn’t just denied it, you knew there was something between you and Santiago, that he bred feelings in you that you didn’t know what to do with. But it felt too close to the truth, like something too close to your heart. So you didn’t correct yourself, and gave a hollow laugh, like it was all a joke.
It was only when you got home and things got restless and bad that it happened. Will attacked some guy in a grocery store, you had to bail Benny out of jail for bar fights twice. Frankie and Tom disappeared into their families.
And Santi…when you called, he came.
He came and he held you while you cried and wondered where everything had gone wrong. You’d escaped the town, gone farther and faster than you ever thought you would, and yet here you were back again, with a broken heart and a broken soul, and friends and brothers you couldn’t help, a listlessness settling between your bones that you didn’t know how to name.
You were still so young, and had seen and done so much, and had nothing to show for it. You had seen and done things you could never come back from.
And then, you were back in the same town, with the same people, and no prospects.
You’d had half a mind to join Benny in his bar fights, just to feel something, just to make the ache inside your bones go away. But then Will would have had to bail you both out and neither of you wanted that.
The loss of your routine, your regimented military life, sent you and the Millers spiraling for a while.
But you and Benny tended to follow Will, and when he pulled his head out of his ass, so did the two of you - group counseling, hobbies, jobs, - things that gave you meaning and routine, that kept you from spiraling into the worst kind of crisis.
Compartmentalizing became key.
But you never really figured out how to compartmentalize Santi, never knew where to slot him in your mind.
He’d been there for you, the violence and reintegration into civilian life hadn’t seemed to phase him, and maybe that was because he’d never returned to it - working with independent contractors and security services abroad, right back into the fray.
He came and went, but he always came back to you.
When you called, he came.
He had come with groceries or take out, stayed with you for a weekend. He’d refuse to let you back away from the violent feelings inside you, fucking them right out of you sometimes, letting you use him or him use you, depending on the mood.
You were something close to a relationship, but not quite.
Things got better with Santi around, with doing group therapy at the VA, your job at the diner, and taking up boxing as a hobby. Poker nights started up, bar nights, going to Benny’s fights together when he started MMA.
And when Santi was in town - even better.
You watch Benny pace around your porch now, and flip open the file. “I’ll take a look, Benny,” you say gently. “You’re gonna wear a hole through my floor.”
You couldn’t lose all of that, you can’t let your family do something so stupid without you again.
“Think about it, sweetheart,” he says, suddenly dropping next to you on the swing again, causing it to jolt and rattle your teeth. “You could do something so good with that money. Someone else finds it first, it's just gonna have more blood spilled on it.”
You laugh, “Fuck you, Benny.”
“And be set for fuckin’ life,” he says. “C’mon, what’s not to like?”
“Pope won’t like it.”
“Fuck Pope. He’ll get over it. We all miss you.”
You miss them too, and you can’t let them go alone again.
Then
The third time you break down after you’re stateside, you call Santi, because he’s your life line, your hook into reality, your tether to the Earth.
Santi always comes when you call, he always knows exactly what you need.
The first two times you called, he came with takeout, with a movie, and sat with you on your couch for two days straight because you had so much fear built up inside you, you couldn’t move.
Going into the military wasn’t the hard part, you found, it was coming home.
The third time, he finds you in the bedroom of the apartment you rented as soon as you were back in town.
“Hey,” he crouches down across from your place on the floor, curled between your nightstand and the edge of the bed. “You okay?”
“I don’t think I can do this, Santi,” you mutter, feeling like your lungs are collapsing, like you can’t breathe. “Fuck, I don’t think I can. Everything - God, it's so loud, but it's too quiet. Everyone is just going around like everything is fucking normal - like - like - ”
Like you hadn’t killed and bled and fought and cursed and -
Santi nods, “I remember my first time on leave was like that. Just sat in my fucking bedroom for two weeks straight because I didn’t know how to be anymore.”
Your frantic eyes seek his out, his intense gaze that was heavy enough to feel like a weighted blanket against you, soothing the ache inside you a little, before he holds his arms out to you.
You crawl across the carpet to fit yourself into his lap when he falls to his ass with a groan. You breathe hard and fast, his scent like catnip to you, fingers tangling hard into his shirt.
“Thought you were gonna hole up with Ben.”
“Fuck you, Santiago. You know Ben is like my brother,” you grit out, pulling so hard on his shirt that you think it might rip in your fingers. You tuck your head under his chin, feel the slow slide of his touch up your side, listen to the steady beat of his heart.
His touch is warm, it grounds you, makes you feel so very safe.
His comment about Benny reminds you of something, of something you should have told him that night weeks ago at the canteen.
“Maybe I shouldn’t say it now, but Santi I -,”
Before you can continue, he presses a finger under your chin, to tip your head up. He doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say anything, just stares at you - just pins you down with that unwavering stare, brown eyes like chips of amber.
“I know,” he says simply, so gentle and cocksure as the corner of his mouth quirks up. “I know, hermosa. Me too.”
You suck in a breath but whatever you’re about to say, dies on your lips. Santiago presses a hand to the back of your neck, holds you firm and doesn’t let you look away, his eyes flicking down your face. “Tell me you want me, baby. I’ll give it to you. Help you shut out the world.”
You’re so drunk on his gaze, at the way he holds you hard and soft and tight and fucking perfect - that you don’t hesitate when you say, “Please, Santi, I want you.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears you.
One strong hand cups beneath your chin, fingers tight against your skin as Santiago kisses you for the first time.
It’s not a gentle kiss.
It’s like breathing in smoke, like choking down hot coal, but you revel in the pain, you take pleasure in the way he fights to consume you, in the way his strong jaw juts forward in a harsh pass of his lips against yours.
He’s rough with you, that first time, because he knows it's what you need, that you can handle it, that you’ve had worse.
But you’ve never had better, will never have better again.
Santiago kisses you like a man possessed, he bites you, he tears his fingers into your flesh, down into the marrow of your bones. He pushes you down into the carpet and doesn’t waste time with helping you out of your clothes.
He shoves his hand down the front of your cotton shorts without preamble, his fingers expert in seeking out your wet heat. His mouth stays on yours as you tug at his hair, pull and pull until he hisses and shoves a finger inside you.
You forget about the world, about how you don’t recognize your town and recognize it all too well - how the ordered madness you were used to sustaining you was gone.
The pain you feel is subsumed by Santiago’s heavy presence, the way he pulls back from you but hardly lets you breathe - his fingers in your mouth, the taste of yourself in your mouth, his hand insistent on the back of your neck.
You claw at his back, raking your nails over him as he licks into your mouth, holding your head still with a hand on your neck, beneath your jaw. He pinches your nipple through your shirt so hard it stings but all you can do is arch up into him.
Santi pulls back from you, a whine you can’t control rattling out of your throat.
“Fuuuck,” he groans into your skin, “Fuck. Fuck.”
He pulls back and yanks on your shorts, “Off.”
You scramble to remove your hands from him, to push your shorts down your legs until they get caught up on your ankles.
Santi doesn’t bother with undressing, just yanks down the zipper of his jeans until he can free himself. He sits back with a groan, knees protesting, so he can yank your shorts off your ankles before he slots himself back over you, his dick slipping against you.
The heat of him clears your mind, the anxiety and the thoughts you couldn’t stop from consuming you before, washing away until your mind is pleasantly empty, a blank white space that only Santiago can fill.
The town doesn’t exist, the past doesn’t exist, none of the things you’d done exists, you are purified, you are only the tips of your toes and the edges of your fingers, one long nerve ending.
His mouth is back on yours and you curl your hands back into his hair again, groaning into his mouth when he roughly yanks up the hem of your shirt to your armpits, large calloused hand palming your tits roughly, his mouth skating down your throat to your chest, until he can pull one stiff nipple between his teeth and tug.
You can only moan, fisting your hand into his hair to jerk his lips back to yours.
“Santi,” you murmur against his mouth. “Santi.”
“That’s it, hermosa. Say my name,” he breathes into your skin as he notches his cock at your entrance. “Say my name,” he demands when you don’t immediately answer.
“Santiago,” you whimper, pathetically needy, the air punched out of your lungs when his hips snap forward. He’s fully seated within you in one hard push, your thighs burning, the stretch of him so painful you cry out. “Don’t,” you hold onto his arms, force him to stay where he is when he starts to pull back. “Fuck, don’t, feels so good.”
Santiago doesn’t need anymore encouragement, hips drawing back just far enough to slam into you again, pushing you up the carpet.
He sets a brutal pace, your cunt stretching to accommodate him, the burn easing and the pleasure settling in.
Santiago whispers to you in Spanish and even though you speak the language well enough, you can’t make yourself understand what he’s saying.
The heat builds inside you until you feel like you might scream, until you feel like your body might give out on you.
But Santi always knows what you need, always knows you.
And so he slows the pace of his hips, dips his mouth to your neck and presses a finger through your folds, tracing circles around your clit until you come with an earth shattering force.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s muttering against the sweat slick skin of your throat, the only thing real in the whole world to you in that moment him. “Look at you, fucking soaked my cock, baby. So perfect.” And then he’s whispering in Spanish again, something about so fucking perfect, all mine. You’re fucking mine.
You don’t let Santiago pull away from you, the hot weight of him against you drowning out every horrifying thought in your head. You feel him seeping out of you, feel the grip of his fingers against the fleshy part of your hip, tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck.
He doesn’t move, doesn't try to, and stays buried inside you. Santiago whispers sweet as sugar words right into your hairline until he’s hard again, and then he fucks you so softly - you’re sure its what love should feel like.
~
And so, for a while after you come home, that’s all your life is, fighting and fucking and hating the world for chewing you up and spitting you out, and not being strong enough to fucking take it.
~
The fucking is by far the best part.
You feel best when Santiago is with you, when his cock is buried so deep inside you it’s the only thing you can think about - when you’re cockdumb and sex drunk.
That’s when things feel normal again.
That’s when your brain finally shuts the fuck up.
But then Will pulls it together, starts getting real help, and inevitably you and Benny follow suit.
It doesn’t stop you and Santi from fucking like rabbits, but it makes it softer, it lets you round out the edges of your heart against his.
The thing between you stays undefined, but it comes somewhere close to ownership. Santi is yours and you are his, though it’s never said out loud.
He dances with you around your kitchen, spars with you in your backyard when you put a down payment on your house, cooks you breakfast, and asks for input on his consulting jobs.
Santi tries to get you to come with him, back to those places you’d left behind, back to the fight, back to the guns and blood and drugs.
But you can’t do it, at least not yet.
For a moment in time, you are content, content with that small town, your little job.
Will starts giving speeches to recruits, Benny starts MMA, Frankie gets married, Tom spends more time with his daughter.
You and Santiago - your worlds revolve around each other, when he’s in town and when he isn’t, how quickly he can drive from the airport to your house, how he catches you in the front yard in his arms and spins you around.
Sometimes, you don’t even make it inside.
You have no neighbors for several miles, and the front porch steps were a good a place as any to fuck.
Unfortunately that’s the same day that Will decides to swing by with your new boxing gloves you’d asked him to get you. Will gets a full view of Santi’s ass, but he never pulls out, never stops fucking you.
“He’s seen worse,” he laughs into your ear, nipping at your skin as heat pools embarrassment around your bones, the man who was like your brother doing a one-eighty to hightail it back down the road. “Don’t worry about him, cariño.”
It’s then as he laughs and kisses you, kisses away the annoyed groan, that you realize that you love him, really love him.
And that you’d probably never love anyone else.
Now
“Hey, there she is!” You hear Will announce as soon as you slam the door of your truck shut, parked against the curb outside Santi’s place.
“Hey Blue,” Frankie calls when you approach the group sitting around a picnic table, a canopy of emerald green shielding them from the sun and prying eyes. A cooler of beer popped open, burgers on the grill.
You smile and accept the hug Frankie offers you, moving quickly to Will and then Benny, despite seeing the Millers often enough, now that you and Ben were back to seeing each other daily.
Santi can’t even be bothered enough to turn from the grill. He says nothing and a fissure of pain cracks open your chest, your heart bleeding all over again, just like that.
“How’re you Frankie? How’s the baby?” You slide into the open space next to him on the bench, accepting the beer he reaches down into the cooler at his side to hand you.
Will automatically starts constructing a burger for you, disregarding the onions and adding extra pickles and an extra slice of cheese, without you having to ask.
It makes your heart hurt to be with them. These were the people you’d been through so much with, who knew so many little things about you.
No onions, extra pickles, extra cheese.
You feel the absence of Tom suddenly, like a hole in the middle of your little family.
Santi’s disregard does nothing to help the feeling.
“Good,” Frankie says. “They’re okay.”
“That’s great-,”
“So,” Benny interrupts, ever tackless, “We gonna talk about this thing or not?”
“Jesus, Ben,” Will says. “Let her settle in.”
Benny raises his brows and looks at you, “You settled?”
“I’m good,” you nod, “Always.”
“There ya go, girl’s all settled up. Let’s talk.”
Santiago joins you at the table then, plate of freshly grilled burgers deposited in the center of the table.
Will passes you the burger he’d assembled for you.
Silence descends, awkward and piercing for a long moment as you look around at them. Pope holds your gaze when you meet his eyes, and for the first time in years, you can’t read the look in them.
You glance away, back at Frankie who you haven’t seen since forever and Will who you infrequently saw these days. “I missed y’all,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.
The heckling that immediately follows breaks the ice surrounding the group of you, Frankie cooing sarcastically at you as Will laughs and Benny breaks open a bag of chips that you know he won’t share with anyone else.
“Fuck you guys,” you say without venom.
“We missed you too, kid,” Will says, Frankie throwing an arm around your shoulders.
“Yeah, sister,” Frankie intones, “When are you finally gonna come meet my kid?”
You take a sip of your beer, “As soon as you invite me, Fish.”
“So you take invitations now?” Santiago’s voice cuts through the chatter, his eyes are still glued to your face when you look back at him, the coolness in his voice matching the ice in his eyes.
Something in your chest crumbles and you can’t make yourself keep his gaze this time.
You glance away.
“Pope,” Will warns, a threat lurking in his voice. “You wanna start us off?”
Santiago finally looks away from you, his jaw clenching, before he rattles off the strategy he’d devised - a one day plot to get the money.
You sit and listen without looking at him, thinking of all the ways this plan can go sideways. Again.
Thinking of all the ways you could lose another one of your boys, how the group might not survive losing another member.
You hear the others take up threads, concerns - namely how you would get the money out of the ravine, how it could be transported without notice to the beach. They would hire the same boat as the last time, to transport the money off the coast and out of the country, to the same bank setting up the off-shore shell accounts.
“Can you approach the ravine from any other way than through that town?” You ask.
“Not unless we’re goin’ over the fuckin’ Andes again,” Benny answers you. “And I’m out if that’s the plan.”
“No,” Santi confirms, “Through the town is the only way.”
You consider quietly, biting into your burger as Will details the town’s layout, where you could expect areas that would probably cause issues for you.
“And weapons?” You inquire. “We need to be armed.”
“There’s a shipping freight -,” Santi offers.
“Oh, fuck, you’re not seriously considering arms trafficking on top of everything else, are you? That’s so fucking tracable.”
“You got a problem you can fucking go,” Santi bites back at you. “We don’t have the benefit of time to go scrambling for arms sourced in-country.”
You bite the inside of your cheek and consider for a moment wondering if you should offer or if Pope would just bite your head off again. “No,” you say quietly. “I think I might be able to help there. Contact that might be able to make a drop for us. Something locally sourced.”
Will is nodding, smiles at you, “So no arms trafficking. That’s something.”
Santi reluctantly nods, shoulders loosening.
You might be at odds at the moment, but he does trust you with things like this, knows you would never suggest something that might put the team at a real risk. “I’ll reach out and let you know when it's confirmed.”
Pope saws a hand over his chin and nods, and you recognize that gleam in his eyes, that intensity that said he was starting to believe in this plan, he was starting to see the fruits of this labor.
It's akin to the way he used to look at you, when he would make promises to you that he eventually broke.
The rest of the conversation passes you by, rappelling gear and fuel and rations and passports and how to move the money once it was out of the ravine - but you can’t stop looking at Santi.
He’s always been beautiful, since you first met him all those years ago, when you and Benny had just passed the ASVAB and were then recommended to join Delta by Will.
Anything to keep the siblings together.
He’d been beautiful then with wild dark curls and brown skin darkened by sun exposure, solid and sure and steady.
But now, with the pepper of gray in his hair and the darkness in his eyes, the kindness that he showed every stranger, the slightly startled way he always laughed, his creaky knees - well, he’d only gotten more beautiful.
Age suited him well.
The conversation closes - with you assigned to the arms issue and Will sorting out local transport, if the money was even possible to retrieve.
Benny pokes you in the side as he helps Frankie ball up the used paper plates and gather empty beer bottles, and tilts his head toward where Santi stands fiddling with the grill.
You roll your eyes and shove him back but take the hint and stand.
Santi doesn’t turn when you stop next to him, watching as he meticulously cleans the grill.
“We gonna hate each other forever?” You ask, stepping close to him, his shoulders going stiff beneath his t-shirt.
“I don’t hate you,” he mutters, glancing up but not quite meeting your eyes as he drops the scrub brush in his hand, folding his arms over his chest.
“No? Sure seems like it,” you muse. “Didn’t even invite me to Redfly’s funeral.”
Santi says your name, a sigh that makes your stomach curdle. “We didn’t want you implicated. Everything had went so fuckin’ bad and you knew way more than I should have told you.”
You nod, like it makes you feel any better. “Yeah, I get it.” You almost don’t ask, but you can’t help the question that slips out, “And after that? Why didn’t you come home after that?”
Santiago finally looks at you, his intense gaze locking onto yours and you freeze, pinned down by that heaviness, that stare that is so soft and piercing. The ice in his eyes has curiously melted down into a warm brown, his brows tugging together. “I’d done enough damage.”
And he leaves it at that.
~
Santiago always comes when you call, and you call him for the first time since he left your porch that last night before things went to hell.
Benny’s already at your place, parked on the couch in front of the TV with a beer in his hand and a bag of cheetos spilling onto the worn fabric.
“Hey Benny boy,” you hear Santiago say when he comes in the back door. “Our girl around?”
Our girl - something all the guys used to teasingly say, something that had annoyed you to no end because you just wanted to be, be a part of the team and the family. It was only after a year being with Delta that you’d realized that was exactly what it meant. That you belonged.
“Blue’s in the kitchen,” you hear Benny say through a mouthful of what you’re sure is toxic orange cheeto dust drifting down onto your couch.
Santi laughs and his footsteps sound on the linoleum, tracking closer to you. “Hey,” he says. “Benny’s fucking up your couch.”
“Yeah nothing new there,” you say, turning from the counter where you’ve just finished rolling out premade pizza dough onto a tray. “It’s a Friday tradition at this point. Beer and fucking up the couch with crumbs.”
Santi stands in the doorway, gazing around with a stricken expression for a moment, and you wonder if it's jarring for him - to be back in this house with you, after spending so much time in it and then leaving it abruptly behind.
You’d quit each other cold turkey, and the separation had not been easy for you. Especially not when traces of Pope lived all through the house, not when he’d fucked you in every room, made you laugh in every room, carried you from the couch to bed, cooked meals together, danced together.
But when Santi meets your eyes, his gaze goes intense, assessing, like he’ll never know everything about you. But sometimes, like now, that ferociousness also feels like it's concealing something, hiding something.
“You had an update?” He prompts, leaning against the door jam with his arms crossed, ball cap shading his eyes as he scuffs a booted toe against the floor.
“Yeah, thought I probably shouldn’t be sharing over the phone,” you wipe your hands on a dishtowel and try not to feel his gaze lingering on you from beneath the bill of his hat. You turn to the fridge and dig out the pizza sauce you’d made earlier in the week with the tomatoes that Santi had once planted in your backyard, various cheeses, and the toppings Benny had brought over.
He had a bizarre palate that you didn’t try to understand - so one side would be Benny and the other just cheese.
“My contact got back to me. He can make the drop. But only to me,” you hip check the silverware drawer closed after grabbing a spoon and turn back to the pizza, spooning sauce onto the dough.
“I’m thinking this,” you continue, “I go into the town alone, do the weapons pick-up, get the transport Will is arranging, meet y’all down the coast and we go around and up into the mountains. I know it's a way longer route but it's probably worth it for you guys not to go through the town. In the meantime, you guys just have to sit tight in that cove's cave.” You nod at a folded map at the end of the counter. “If we can get enough fuel arranged, there’s a way around that I mapped out. Roads shouldn’t be too much trouble this time of year.”
He doesn’t move to pick up the map.
You finish with the sauce and start sprinkling cheese, feeling Santi lurch away from the doorway and approach you slowly, until he’s beside you and every muscle in your body is tense and hot. “Fuck, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“It’s a good plan,” you say, tearing some fresh mozzarella. “Keeps you boys outta the town. Gets us weapons that were sourced in-country, fuel, and a ride.”
“And puts you right in the firing line. You’d haveta land and be without weapons until the drop. What if your contact doesn’t show?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m the only face that won’t be recognized.”
Santi rolls his eyes, “They’ll know you’re a foreigner and that might be enough.”
“I’ll be careful.”
You can feel Santiago’s irritation building. “Why are you so gung-ho to do this now? You’ve always been shit at infiltration. There’s a reason you’re the sniper.”
Since one of you died! You want to shout.
“Fuck off, Pope,” you say instead as he takes his hat off and tosses it down, leaning his forearms onto the counter next to you before ducking his head and running his hands through his hair. “You know why I didn’t want to do it the first time around. And now -,”
And now you were terrified that if you didn’t go, another member of your family would come home in a bodybag.
And you wouldn’t even get to go to the funeral.
And this time it could be Santi or Benny or -
You clench your eyes shut, the heat of Santiago next to you too much suddenly. You suck in a sharp breath and try to get the panic bubbling up under control.
“Hey -,”
His voice is too soft, too close.
“Whatever,” you cut him off. “What-fucking-ever, Pope. I’m shit. I was never valuable to Delta. I get it, okay? But this is your best shot. Unless you wanna go coordinate shipping arms into some backwater town through cartel territory.”
Santiago stares at you, his gaze wide and shocked, so unlike the hard stare he usually sported. His mouth softens a fraction but you turn away, adding the gross shit Benny wanted onto his side of the pizza.
“Yes or no?” you ask. “This is it. This is how we do it.”
“One of us stays with you. We split two-three.” You open your mouth to retort when he continues, his voice strangely quiet. “I understand you have to go to the drop by yourself, everything else doesn’t haveta be. You need someone watching your six.”
You heave a sigh, picking up the pan with the finished pizza to stick in the oven. “Jesus, what the hell does that kid eat?” Santi asks, noting the toppings.
“Shit,” you answer, snapping the oven door closed. “Who?”
“Frankie. He can make up for your shit Spanish.”
You quickly catalog another thing you’re deficient in, swallowing thickly.
“Fine.”
Santi nods and keeps staring at you, staring at you standing in the middle of your kitchen with your arms crossed.
And you feel the sudden urge to cry, to break down and scream.
Your breath is heavy in your chest, and the weight of Santi’s eyes on you doesn’t help.
“We should talk about it,” he says.
You shake your head, grab a beer from the fridge and walk out of the kitchen, down the hall and past the living room where Benny was invested in a baseball game, and out onto your back deck.
Santiago follows you, snapping the screen door closed after him. “C’mon.”
“No. You left it the way it is. We don’t need to talk about it,” you knock the bottle cap off the beer with one well placed smack against the edge of the deck railing.
But you can’t find it in yourself to drink it and so you set it aside.
Santi’s jaw clenches and he runs an agitated hand through his hair, pacing a line back and forth before he stops and cups a hand over his chin. “Don’t be stubborn about this, Blue.”
“Fuck off, Pope.”
He rolls his eyes and approaches you, stepping right into your space, crowding you against the banister, bracketing his arms around you, palms against the railing behind you. He tilts his head over yours, his nose nearly touching yours. “I missed you. I wanted to come back. I didn’t know how.”
You scoff. “It was easy. You could have walked through the door.” You grit your teeth, “Would you have even told me Tom died? Or would I have seen it on fucking Facebook from his widow months later?”
Santi flinches at your accusation but doesn’t back down, his eyes still boring into your, his voice quiet. “Yes. You’re our family. You know one of us would have, if Ben hadn’t.”
“Right,” you say disbelievingly. “It hurt the most that I didn’t hear from you. Did I ever really mean anything to you? Or was I just a liability to the team? Another whore to get you through the night?”
“What?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Santiago. You never came home. And I know you were fucking people when you were out of town. I always knew.”
His eyes are so dark they read black in the fading evening sunshine. “Is that what you think? That I was sitting around here playing house with you for fun?”
Your belly lurches. “Get away from me,” you snap, shoving at his shoulder. “I don’t need you to call me stupid in my own house. I got it, Santi. I wasn’t good enough for the team and I wasn’t good enough for you. I get it.”
He makes a noise of frustration and doesn’t move. “Stop being so fucking hardheaded.”
“Okay,” you sniff. “Go ahead then. What do you want to say? About that night, about why you never came home? About what you said to me?”
Santi gapes at you, clearly not expecting you to just give into him, “I - I -,” he flounders.
“Yeah,” you duck under his arm, snatch up your beer, and head back inside, “That’s what I thought.”
~
“You never went out there to see her? Fuuuck man, no wonder she’s pissed,” Benny says, offloading their tac bags into the sand of the cove from the dinghy, the walls of the cave-like outcropping reflecting in the shallow water.
Will moves the bags further up the sand and doesn’t say anything.
And Santiago - he doesn’t know what to fucking say about any of it.
Going back to that house, back to you, after everything he’d said to you, after he’d implied that any injuries they got would be your fault, after he told you that you were a weight to their team even though it was the farthest thing from the truth.
He didn’t know how to go back to you.
He didn’t know how to make things right, and so one month had turned into two had turned into six.
“She never said anything?” Santi asks Benny, almost afraid of what the answer might be.
“Not like we sit around talking about you, man. I wasn’t out there all that much for a while. Going through my own shit,” Benny says, jumping out of the boat to work on tying it down.
Santi thinks about Benny going out to your place, dumping all his shit on you and leaving. Of Will and Frankie visiting infrequently, because they were, as Benny so eloquently put it - going through their own shit in the aftermath of that mission.
All of them wrongly assuming that Santi had been to see you, that he was still seeing you.
All of them thinking that you were okay because Santi was always with you.
Fuck.
Fuck.
No wonder you felt abandoned. No wonder you believed him when he’d said -
He can’t think about that right now.
You must have felt like you lost all of them for a while.
“Check-in with Fish and Blue,” he snarls at Benny instead. “I want an update. They landed yesterday and should already be on their way here.”
Benny glances at Will but neither of them say anything as he fiddles with the comms.
Santiago makes a point of not looking at either of them, pointlessly cataloging the shit they did bring with them, mainly rappelling equipment, rations, and protective gear.
The comm in his ear statics and then Benny’s voice is reaching out for a status report.
Your voice comes back after only a few minutes. “Hey Ben,” you say, your voice clear but with a rift in it, a thick line of tension. “Heading your way. Should be there around 1900 hours. Sit tight.”
“Roger. Sitting tight.”
Santiago opens his own line. “Report,” he barks out, not satisfied with the way you sound, that slight crack in the edge of your voice.
“Cargo en route, Pope,” is the only response he receives.
“Roger, Blue,” he says. “Any trouble?”
There’s a long silence before you respond. “Minor incident. Intercepted in vehicle retrieval. One dead. No witnesses. Minimal injuries.”
“Injury report.”
“Fuck, Pope,” Will mutters, “They’ll be here in a couple hours. Leave it.”
“Fish is fine,” you say and Santiago’s heart seizes because that means - “I was grazed. Minimal impact. Over and out, see you soon Delta one.”
Your line clicks out, the static retreating.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Fuck.”
“C’mon, Pope,” Will says, “Quit thinking with your dick. We’ve all been shot. She was only grazed. They’re fine and heading to us.” He sits back on the sand, Benny following suit.
He knows.
Fuck, he knows.
He tucks the information away - compartmentalizes it and hopes like hell it works.
~
You and Fish show up exactly when you say you will, radioing out to them when you were a couple klicks away.
Santiago and Will head up to help you hide the truck you arrive in, grab the duffle bags full of weapons.
The cache you’ve been provided with is well stocked and Will whistles when he sees it. “Fuck, Blue, you’ve got one hell of a contact.”
You smile tightly at him, limping around the front of the truck.
Santiago’s breath catches when he sees you.
It’s hell to see you looking like that again. Although you’re in jeans - the rest of the getup is similar enough to the fatigues you used to sport that it makes his chest tighten. Your hair is tucked back, a backward ball cap on your head, and he recognizes it as one of his, one he must have left at your place. Sunglasses are hitched up above your brow.
You have a strip of cloth tied around your upper thigh, and Frankie has one concerned hand under your elbow.
Santiago never wanted to see you like this again, never wanted to have to think about you being shot at again.
You ignore his stare and say to Frankie, “C’mere and help me calculate this fuel shit. We need to be sure it's more than enough to get us there and back with room for detours.”
Frankie opens the back door and lets you rummage around in another bag before turning back with a scrap of paper and pen.
When Santi just stands there staring at you, you turn and tilt your head. “Gonna help Ironhead with that shit, Pope?”
He flinches, can’t help himself when he hears you call him that, it takes him back to your porch, to the words he can never take back.
Santiago doesn’t say anything, catches Frankie roll his eyes as Santi turns and grabs a couple bags to drag down to the cove.
A few minutes later you and Fish make your way to the cave. “-wish we had a bit more but that should do.”
“It’ll be fine,” Fish assures you, sounding a lot less concerned than you.
“Uh huh,” you say, dropping next to Benny on the sand to take the canteen he offers you.
Will turns to look at you, his eyes flicking over the bandage on your leg. “What happened?”
“Exactly what I said. Some guy caught us grabbing the truck. He shot first, Fish took ‘im out.”
All cold practicality, Will answers, “Clean it properly.”
Fish laughs and raises a brow at you and Santi knows he had already told you to do it.
You roll your eyes and glance at Benny with an exasperated huff of breath.
Before, when you served together, Santiago would have read that look all wrong, would have seen something more than what it was. Now, he sees it for what it is - two younger siblings exasperated by their older brother.
You and Ben have been attached at the hip since the third grade, and have done nearly everything in your life together. You were best friends and nothing more than that. In fact the idea probably repulsed both of you.
He wonders what it was like for you then, when Benny suddenly wasn’t around anymore after the failed Colombia mission.
Santi hooks one of the hand guns into the holster on his hip, grabs a first aid kit, and crosses to you. “I got it.”
He holds out a hand and you hesitate for only a moment before taking his hand and letting him haul you up. He leads you a little way from the group while they continue sorting the weapons out, nodding for you to lean back into the edge of the beached boat.
“Shit,” Santiago mutters when he crouches down and peels the makeshift bandage off of your thigh. “This is more than a graze, you got ate, mi vida.”
“Only a little. No bullet in me.”
He shakes his head and briskly cleans the wound, dresses it with a proper bandage and a wrapping of gauze around your thigh. He slides his knuckles down to your knee and glances up at you. “Fuck, Blue, please. Be careful.”
“You think I got shot on purpose?” You ask, amused rather than pissed for once, as he stands.
He licks his lips and plants his hands on his hips, not able to keep his eyes off you.
Fuck were you pretty.
Even in fatigues and sweating from the humidity, you were so fucking beautiful.
And then he notices the rings on your fingers, notices the ring that he gave you years ago now, and his mouth goes dry, his heart pumps like it’s trying to break the cage of his ribs.
“‘Course not. Just saying. Be careful.”
“Okay,” you agree. “When should we head out? Frankie -,” you call and the other man glances over at the two of you. “We thought 0400 hours, right?”
“Right,” he confirms quietly, “Early enough that we’ve got a bit of light but it's still dark,” he agrees.
“There ya go, Pope,” you say.
He doesn’t look away from you, can’t quite manage it. “You’ve got my hat.”
“My hat now,” you snip. “Left it in my house.”
“You ever gonna forgive me?” He doesn’t know why he asks, it's not like he deserves it.
“Dunno, Santi,” you say. “You ever gonna apologize?”
He clenches his jaw and walks away from you, announcing, “We’re out at 0400 hours. Sharp.”
~
The sun is only really starting to blaze alive when you park the truck at the edge of a canyon. “We gotta walk from here, y’all,” you say, slapping the map down between Will and Santiago in the front seat.
“Hooah,” Benny intones, popping open his door so you can slide out behind him.
When the truck is hidden in the foliage and you’re all geared up, you say, “So, I was thinking, I can split with you guys here, follow the ridgeline up so I can see farther-,”
“We aren’t splitting up again,” Santi says, lowering protective glasses over his eyes. “You’ll be able to see plenty in either direction from the ravine.”
“Are you sure-,”
“Yes,” he grits his teeth. “We’re wasting time, let's go.”
So you wrap the strap of your rifle around your neck and go.
You don’t talk as you move through the canyon and through the mountainside, up the steep rocky crags, Santiago at the head with a GPS and the coordinates.
Finding the correct ravine is surprisingly easy, and you peer over the side to see a mountain of snow at the bottom. “Looks like you guys will be digging.”
“Wonderful,” Frankie says. “You wanna trade? I’ll man the horizon.”
You smirk, “Nah, I’m good here.” You screw a silencer onto the end of your rifle and walk away, scouting for a position where you could easily see in all directions to cover them while they worked.
“Not too far,” Pope says into the comms and you don’t bother to turn, waving a hand above your head to show you heard.
You settle down, between two rocks, adjusting the scope on your rifle to make sure you have a clear view.
“Blue, check-in,” Frankie’s voice comes over the comm. “Pope can’t see you and has his panties in a twist.”
You chuckle and respond, “That’s the idea. Present and accounted for. How’s it going, boys?”
“Benny and Santi rappelling down now.”
You don’t respond, focusing instead on your task, wondering how long it would take them to get all of it out of the ravine, if they would have to dig it out of the snow, if it was even still there, how long it would take to haul out to the truck.
Two hours pass in which the horizon in all directions is clear, and which the boys stay silent in your ear.
And then - “Fuck yeah! Money’s still here baby!” Benny nearly deafens you and the others. A long string of curses and hyena-like laughter follows.
“Shut the fuck up, Ben! Jesus,” Will mutters. “Just get it the fuck up here.”
“Keep your head on straight,” you say into your comm. “We’re not taking more than we can handle, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Santi says. “Of course.”
“I’m serious. I will leave you here, Pope.”
“I’ll leave him here,” Frankie adds.
The rest of the day passes by slowly, and without incident. Occasional comments come through but nothing that warranted a response until near sundown, “Come on back, Blue,” Will says.
“Done already?”
“For tonight.”
When you approach the camp, duffle bags are strewn around.
Many more than you expected.
“Jesus, you sure this isn’t all of it?” You assess the amount of bags. “Think we might have to be okay with this.” You shoulder your M16, “We should start moving it to the truck now.”
The guys glance at each other. “C’mon,” you whine, annoyed with them. “Y’all really gonna let money go to your head again?”
“You don’t want any?”
“Any is more than none, which is what I have now,” you say. “And no, Ben, I don’t need a Ferrari.”
They all glance at each other, then, “One more run tonight and then we’re done. We’ll move the cash in the morning, and be on the boat by the afternoon.”
You roll your eyes, “Fine, whatever.”
Benny hoots and goes about getting strapped into the harness again, Will following suit.
“That was kind of you,” Frankie says, coming to stand next to you with arms folded across his chest. “We coulda used your level head last time.”
You feel your heart sink, surprised Fish would say anything about it to you. “Yeah,” you say softly, watching Santi help Ben and Will start down the cliffside. “I know it's my fault that it went down the way it did. I’m sorry.”
Fish is silent for a few minutes as you watch the boys, before he suddenly turns to you, “Wait, what? Your fault?”
You press your lips together, Will and Benny finally disappearing as the last light faded from the sky. “Threw off the team. Wasn’t here to-,”
“Hold on. We’re grown fucking men and you had the choice to say no. No one’s holdin’ that against you.”
You don’t answer, watching Santi, the broad line of his shoulders, the firm set of him as he keeps an eye on the ropes.
“Not everyone thinks that.”
“What, Pope?” When you don’t answer he continues, shaking his head. “God, if I know anything about Santiago it's that he’s upside down, head over heels, makes him look stupid, in love with you. And he has been since you and that fucker Ben rolled up to Delta like you already belonged.”
You swallow, not sure what to say, your throat dry as you rub your hands together and then stuff them under your armpits to keep them warm in the cooling air. “Oh yeah? Helluva way of showin’ it. He said I was fuckin’ useless. Called me a coward. Said anything that happened to y’all was my fault. And then Tom died. And you all were never around anymore, not even Benny.”
“Shit, honey,” he says softly. “We thought Santi was still going out there to see you every chance his dumbass got.” He pauses and then looks over at you, shifting to cradle his weapon in his arms. “As for that other shit, Pope says some shit when he gets mad, and no one gets under his skin better than you. You know nothing that happened down here was your fault. It was our fault, our choices.”
You bite the side of your cheek. “Thanks, Fish.”
“You can call it stupid if you want. It was.”
“It was stupid and you’re all greedy bastards,” you say, knocking a shoulder into his.
He smiles, “Yeah. But it might just work out this time.”
~
The night passes easily.
You don’t start a fire, and the guys are curiously silent about the prospect though you know it's smarter not to start one and draw attention to your position.
Benny takes the first watch and you end up sandwiched between Frankie and Santiago.
It takes all your willpower not to curl into him, the smell of him exactly as you remember, the heat of him, the press of him against you.
Right when you’re about to fall asleep, you feel Santi’s fingers curl through yours and squeeze gently, his lips at your ear. “I’m so fucking sorry, mi vida.”
~
The next morning, at first light, with most of the cash already transported to the truck, you spot movement on the ridgeline, and when you lift your scope to your eye and see bodies traveling down the rocky mountainside.
You call out a warning just as the first shot slams into the ground several feet from you.
You duck for cover before coming up on a knee to squeeze your own trigger, the silencer muffling the sound of the shot.
Santi turns and watches a distant body fall to the ground, as he too falls behind one of the many boulders.
“Hey, hey, what the fuck are we shooting at?” Ben yells at you as you grab him and yank him down beside you.
“We gotta go,” you spit out over the comms as Benny lifts his body away from yours to take a couple shots of his own, clearly felling his targets by the look on his face, “Looks like somebody patrols this area now. Probably because of you fuckers.”
“Frankie, Will, stay where you are,” Santiago says over the comms.
“What’s going on?” Will snarls back.
“Fuck just -,”
You pop off another shot, using hand signals to tell Santi to start moving his ass toward the treeline. He’s closer to your exit route than you and Ben. “They’re all down the fucking mountain - we’re about to be cut off. We need to go,” you say into the comms. “Grab that shit and let's go,” you say to Benny, pointing to the last duffle bag at your feet before gripping his tac vest as you start moving forward together against the rocks as fast as you dare.
You look ahead and note that Santiago isn’t moving, instead standing his ground and shooting back at the ridgeline, covering the two of you.
It’s a stupid fucking move. There were too many of them, too many shots for it to make a difference. But he’s clearly waiting for the two of you, the babies of Delta, to make it back to him before he moves off. The rest of them had always been overprotective of you and Ben though none of them would ever admit it. They know you’re both more than capable but that didn’t stop them from double and triple asking if you were sure you wanted to do something, or making it a priority to intervene when one of you were in trouble, especially Will when it came to you and Benny.
And while you hadn’t been here before, you know.
This is where Tom died. This is where they lost everything.
Santiago doesn’t like to lose.
“Fuck!” You can hear him shout, directing Benny to stop with a raised fist, moving back toward you instead away from you.
They’re close enough now that you can hear shouts, and you meet nearer to the trees, all three of you pressed behind a rock.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Benny is screaming, the noise muffled in your ear, your concentration fastened back on the moving targets, the bodies, the people. You take a steadying breath and line up your shots. “You’re going to get us fucking killed!” Benny continues. “What the fuck, man! We had it!”
You always were the best shot of Delta, and the people closest to you fall.
You can’t tell if they’re dead.
The clip is empty and you take a moment to reload, slamming the cartridge into place with more force than necessary.
“You really must think me fucking useless if you think I can’t move six feet without you!” You shout at Santiago, who grabs the two of you and shoves you ahead of him, crouched down low. “You fucker!”
“Fuck! It’s not about that-,” he starts, but you ignore him moving quickly over unsteady ground.
You and Benny are younger than the rest of the team by years, and it shows now, Santi panting as you run and cuss without a hitch in your breath. Ben cursing in front of you the whole way.
“You stupid fucker,” you snarl again, Benny echoing your sentiment as you pause again, bullets richoching around you.
Santi pants as he leans back against the rock for a moment, letting you rage against him, fear eating your heart because he had just ran at you. He had ran back to you for no fucking reason and now he might die with you and Benny. You raise yourself up to shoot back again, Benny taking shots to the right.
“They’re closing in, we need to move,” Benny says, radioing over the comms to warn Frankie and Will to have the truck ready and waiting.
You and Santi are silent, taking coordinated shots.
“Fuck! Why are there so many of them?” You grit your teeth, the recoil of the gun against you starting to bruise.
“They knew we lost that money, they’ve been waiting for someone to come poking around for it so they could get it,” Santi says, his breathing even again. “Probably set up patrols here after we came though.”
You glance over at him to ask why he hadn’t shared that thought before this moment, and feel your heart stop. Up the rockside and to the left, there at the edge of the rocks, a kid stands with a gun sighted up on Santiago.
“Santi,” you whisper, voice hoarse. And then so loud, you hurt you own ears, “Santi!”
He starts to turn but you reach over and grab him by the back of his neck, jerking him down, and using the leverage to haul yourself up above him. The kid shoots at the same time you do.
Your bullet lodges between his eyes, but the shot that would have split Santago’s skull in two, lodges deep into the fleshy part of you between your shoulder and your clavicle. You wobble and then crash back between Santi and Ben, not entirely sure what just happened.
You look down at yourself, where the bullet perfectly caught right at the edge of your skewed tac vest, just above your heart
Panic surges up through you suddenly and your vision clouds as you grit your teeth against the pain.
Santi grips your jaw hard, those dark fathomless eyes boring into you, shouting something at you.
But you can’t get enough breath into your lungs to feel like you can respond. “Fuck,” you whisper, touching the blood on your hoodie. One of Santi’s old hoodies, you hadn’t realized until now. “I think I’m hit,” you say as Santi slaps your hand away from the wound.
Blood gushes out of the hole in waves. “Blue, look at me,” Santi says, a sudden pressure on the wound making you bite down a howl. His hands are covered in red. Blood, it must be your blood. “You’re gonna be okay.”
“Okay, Pope,” you whisper, the edge of your vision fading, “Fuck I think it hit my heart.”
You don’t hear his answer, the last thing you know is Santi and Ben leaning over you, dead panic on their faces but you can’t quite figure out why.
~
Carrying you to the truck, your eyes unfocused and glossy, feels a lot like carrying Tom’s corpse home.
Santiago doesn’t scare easy, but cradling your head in his lap while Ben cries his eyes out and snarls at Will to drive faster, scares him.
Frankie’s worried eyes turning back to assess you, scares him.
Will’s stoic silence, scares him.
But nothing comes close to the fear he feels at the prospect of having to carry home your corpse.
And suddenly that money, everything in the world, nothing matters to him but you - and it’ll be his fault if you die now.
He leans down over you, presses a kiss to the shell of your ear. There’s blood caked on your neck, crusting along the edge of your sweatshirt. Your ball cap and protective glasses are on the floor of the truck at his feet, stained a crimson that his brain can’t make sense of.
The graze of the bullet against your thigh was god’s warning to turn back, and he hadn’t heeded it.
Ruthless.
He’s always been ruthless.
And now maybe that ruthlessness really would get you killed.
He can’t really make himself understand it, why you would jump up like that and pull him out of the way.
“Santi,” you murmur, your breath sweet against his skin, your bloody fingers scrubbing against the stubble on his cheek. “Santi,” you whisper against his skin, the copper smell of you making him sick, makes him want to fucking vomit.
“Hold on, cariño,” he says gently. “We’re gonna get you home safe and sound.” But your skin is ashen, your lips chapped already and he knows there isn’t a chance in hell of you making it to the States alive without them addressing the mess that is your shoulder.
“Fuck,” he snarls when your eyes flutter closed again, your body going limp as you pass out. “Benny, grab that med pack. We’re gonna have to sew her up before she loses any more blood. She’s not gonna make it if we don’t.”
Pope rips back the straps of your tac vest, rips your sweatshirt open as Benny goes cool with determination, grounded and levelheaded even as tears slip down his nose. There’s no exit wound and so Benny passes over the supplies Santi needs to dig the bullet out of your shoulder.
He stuffs cloth in your mouth when you lurch and give a blood curdling scream, forceps squelching deep in the wound until he can finally rip the metal out of your shoulder.
He forces you to keep it in your mouth so you don’t break your teeth, bite your fucking tongue off, when they dump peroxide over the wound.
Benny holds you still after he hands Santiago the threaded needle, closes his eyes and takes a breath, before he unsteadily and messily sews your shoulder closed.
By the time he’s done with you, you’re so still he might as well have killed you himself.
Then
“Hey, killer,” Santiago says when you thrust open the front screen door with a toe.
“Hey yourself, old man,” you snipe at him, “Wanna help me out a little?”
Santi finishes wiping his hands on a dishtowel and moves to hold the door open for you.
You’re wearing ratty gym clothes, boxing gloves spilling out of your duffle bag, a couple of grocery bags fisted in your other hand.
Santiago gently takes the groceries from you and dumps them on the kitchen table as you wave out at Benny’s retreating jeep.
Ben obnoxiously lays on the horn all the way down the road, but it makes you laugh and so he doesn’t roll his eyes too hard at it.
“You weren’t here when I got in last night,” Santiago says when you beeline into the kitchen and dump your bag on the floor.
He doesn’t get a chance to say anything else because you kiss him, your palms against his cheeks, the line of your body against his. When you pull away you smirk at him and peer at the breakfast he has started on your stove.
“Don’t you have your own house to go to?”
“My own house isn’t where you are.”
You laugh, bell bright, but he knows you think he’s just fucking with you. “You stay at Ben’s?”
“He lost last night and was pouting about it,” you say, unloading the grocery bags. “Me and Will stayed with him. Re-watched Predator for the millionth time. Knew we’d end up at the gym in the morning together anyways.”
Santi tucks his arms around you and drags you back against his chest, pressing his lips to the nape of your neck and then the shell of your ear. “Left me high and dry here, honey.”
“Oh, I’m sure you managed to entertain yourself, Santi.” You turn your head and bump your forehead against his temple. “You’ve got a hand don’t you?”
He scoffs, “That’s fuckin’ cruel. Expecting pussy and getting a hand.”
You turn in his grip and wind your arms around his neck, smiling and stretching against him like a cat. “Lemme shower and this pussy is all yours, babe.”
“Shower, breakfast, then pussy,” he says. “I know you didn’t eat this morning.”
You roll your eyes, “Hurts my feelings when you ignore me like this Santiago.”
“The last thing in the world I’m doing is ignoring you,” he says, cupping his hands under your ass to lift you onto the counter.
You settle back against the cabinets and he slots himself between your legs, running his hands up your thighs, beneath the fabric of your gym shorts. “You’re so pretty. Have I ever told you that?”
A grin splits your face, one he’s glad to see, one that had taken a year of counseling and fucking and boxing and bar nights to coax back out of you. “Sure,” you say.
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
Santiago licks his lips, takes your hands in his, the dozens of rings that line your fingers grazing his.
It was one of the things you’d started wearing to feel more like yourself again, to recapture your identity outside the military, outside Delta.
He traces the rings carefully for a moment when your voice reaches out to him again, your hand touching his jaw. “Santi?” you ask.
“I brought something back for you,” he says, squeezing your knee gently. “Stay here.”
He looks up and meets your eyes, searching the gaze he knows so well, and still coming back empty, still confused about what it all means to you, what he means to you. “Okay,” you say, “What is it?”
Instead of answering, he ducks out of the kitchen to rifle through his own bag that he left in the front hall the night before.
When he returns to you, you have one heel up on the counter, a cup filled with coffee at your side, picking bits of food out of the pan on the stove.
He knocks your heel down, jolting you, “Feet on the counter? Really?”
“It’s my fucking counter, Garcia,” you snap at him, but you smile when you say it.
“Fucking counter, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“I mean I have fucked you there enough times, haven’t I?” He asks, watching you roll your eyes, tracking your every movement, unable to glance away from you.
You lift that same foot and shove at his shoulder as you sip your coffee. “Fuck off.”
Santi catches your foot, presses a kiss to your ankle and lets it drop again so he can slot himself between your legs again, holding up the ring he has pinched between two fingers in his other hand.
Your eyes lock onto the gold, lips parting. “Found it at a market in Bogotá. Polished it up on the way back. Thought you’d like it for your collection.”
Gingerly, as though the ring is made of smoke and not metal, you reach out to take it from him. “It’s beautiful,” you say, examining the stones embedded in the gold.
Santi takes it back from you, and examines your hands, the many, many rings that stack on your fingers. “Which finger you want it on, mi vida?”
You wiggle your right ring finger and he slips it into place. It's a perfect fit.
He looks up at you, he means to tell you in that moment, that there’s no one else, that there’s only you, that this thing between you is solid and real and he wants no one else, ever. That you’re his and he’s yours.
That you are his girl.
But the words die on his lips as soon as he looks at you, and then you’re sliding off the counter and kissing him so hard, he feels like he might bruise.
“Why don’t you shower with me and we can kill two birds with one stone?” You ask. “I get clean and you get pussy.”
He holds you so tight he feels you exhale a sharp breath, tilting his head over yours, brows pulled together as he watches you, watches the widening of your eyes.
“All for a ring?” he undercuts his own fucking plan, his own feelings.
“It’s a pretty ring.”
Now
They have to leave you in the hotel they check into, to meet with the bank, to deposit their fucking money.
Fifty million and it feels like nothing.
Benny and Will wait with you while he and Fish go to the bank first, and then switch places.
You’re awake when they get back and Santi wants to cry. Fish pretends there’s something he forgot in the lobby and leaves.
Santi pulls up a chair next to you and takes your hand. “What the fuck were you thinking?” He murmurs.
“Was thinking I didn’t want your brains all over me,” you say, weak fingers tightening on his. “You did a shit job stitching me up, by the way. But I think it saved my life.”
Santi says your name quietly, picking up your hand, your skin clammy against his. “Well our combat medic was out.”
He closes his eyes, gritting his jaw, trying to wash away the image of your prone body on two different boats, carrying you with Benny away from the line of fire like you were already gone from the world.
“Why?” He asks again. “Fuck, why would you do that?”
You grip his hand weakly, “Because. Because you - probably the same reason you ran toward me instead of away. Because I knew you were about to die and couldn’t let that happen.”
“And what if you fucking died, huh?”
“Guess I’d be dead then.”
He winces but doesn’t let you look away from him.
You swallow, “Help me sit up? I want some water.”
Santi hurries to help you sit up, listening to the way you groan tightly before he fetches a bottle of water for you and unscrews the cap.
Your hand shakes when you lift the bottle to your lips, and he has to cup the bottom of it to hold it steady for you.
When you’ve drunk your fill, you handle the bottle back and yank down the strap of your sports bra to look at the gauze webbed around your shoulder, the blood that slowly begins to stain through because of your movement.
You sigh and then fiddle with your rings, his ring on your finger, where it's never moved since he placed it there. “Santi,” you murmur. “I know we never said it - but I love you. That’s why it hurt so goddamn bad when you left. It just confirmed that it really never mattered to you. And this - this stupid fucking money - I know how you get. I couldn’t believe - couldn’t believe you just dropped me like that. I told myself you didn’t mean it. That we’re both mean sons of bitches when we’re pissed but then you never came home.”
You take a long stuttering breath, and his heart feels like it's stopped beating, like god has a boot on his chest. “I never woulda done that to you. You left it up to Benny to tell me what the fuck happened. I didn’t just lose you, I lost all of you. You know what that’s like? To have your best friend, who you’ve never been apart from for more than a couple days, just drop you? To have - to have you - for better or worse, the man I fucking love - abandon me?”
Is this what it takes to get him to spill his guts to you?
Having you half dead in his arms, your eyes lined with circles, your skin tone off by several shades, telling him things he already fucking knows?
He cups your cheeks in his palms gently, swipes away the tears that fall. Santiago hasn’t seen you like this in years, since you finally started coming back to yourself.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispers. “Fuck, mi vida, I’m so fucking sorry.”
~
Santi curls his arms around you, shifts you on the bed until he can lie down with you, the pressure off of your injured shoulder as you turn on your side to fit yourself against him.
“I can never take back those things I said to you. But you have to know - I didn’t mean a single word of it. Nothing that happened on that mission was your fault. Not a fucking thing. As soon as things went sideways the first time, the only thing I could think was thank god she’s safe at home.”
He presses a kiss to your forehead and you feel more tears leak down your cheeks. “You are the best shot we have - proved that a couple times over yesterday, I think. You were never just a medic, you know that. You’ve beaten me in hand to hand more than enough times, all the rest of those fuckers too. You’re the best of us, honey. I was just so goddamn scared you’d never forgive me for the things I was about to do - you had it right about Lorea and the money and my motivation.”
You feel the movement of his throat against you, arms tightening by a fraction, before he says, voice hoarse, “And I’ve always loved you. Always. I never knew how to say it. You’ve been my only girl for so fucking long.”
You shove his shoulder gently and feel him stiffen but you only bring his forehead to yours, peering into those eyes that were always so intense, that missed nothing, and read you like a book.
You scrub a hand over his stubbled cheek, the pull of the hair against your hand soothing. “You know I love you, Santiago.”
“I love you,” he answers sincerely. “Sorry it took so goddamn long.”
You pull him down into a kiss, your shoulder aching, a biting pain that lances across your chest. “Me too,” you murmur, gingerly unbuttoning his jeans, careful of the very messy stitches in your shoulder. You hiss through your teeth and Santi stops your hand.
“No, your shoulder-,”
“Yes,” you murmur. “Yes. You just have to be careful with me. You just have to be gentle.” You peer up at him, into those brown eyes that feel so like home to you, like the warmth of a summer forest. You touch the hinge of his jaw, “Just be gentle with me.”
Santi’s eyes clench closed and then he’s nodding and kissing your forehead, all resolve gone. You thought the strings of your heart had been wrapped around his fingers all these years. You never imagined that you held his too.
He pulls away from you to undress, since you won’t be able to do it for him in your state, and you use the opportunity to push your shorts and underwear off with your good arm.
And then he’s back, naked against you, one arm under your neck to support your head, the other curving around your knee to hitch over his hip, pressing so close to you. You feel the ridges of his cock against your pussy, already wet.
“Just like this,” he murmurs to you, never breaking his eyes from yours, his gaze just as steady and intense as it always has been, but now there’s a thread of vulnerability that makes you duck your head to press a kiss over his heart. Your good hand against his cheek, the other carefully skimming along his abdomen, the thick muscle and padding he carries.
You both watch as he slides into you, watch your bodies join slowly, the stretch of him so fucking good and heavy.
Your breath leaves you in a gust and Santi pauses, more gentle with you than he’s ever been. “Fuck. You have to tell me if I’m hurting you. Okay?”
You meet his gaze, rolling your hips against his, “Santi.”
He moves then, meeting the slow thrust of you. “Yeah, baby, tell me what you need.”
Instead of biting something out at him like you usually would, you cup both hands against his cheeks as he tightens his arm around your waist, bringing you that much closer.
Santi leans his forehead against yours, and neither of you shut your eyes. You can’t, you have to know he’s there and real and everything that he’s said the last few minutes is true.
He’d always been better at doing than saying and now is no different - his gaze unwavering, making love to you so softly you feel a tear bead and slip down your nose.
Santiago swipes it away with his thumb as he shifts the arm beneath your neck so he can cup the back of your skull, fingers digging through your hair.
The pleasure in your belly builds slowly, but that almost feels secondary to the other things you’re feeling - like you finally belonged, like you were no longer adrift, like you finally found your home.
You press your hand flat over his sternum and feel the thrumming of his heart against your hand.
“It beats for you,” he says, closing his eyes briefly to press his nose into your hair.
You almost want to laugh, at how corny it is, if you didn’t know for certain that he’s never said anything more sincerely.
Sweat beads along his salt and pepper curls, the smell of him like his cologne and cheap hotel soap and sweat.
You move your hips more frantically, Santiago matching you thrust for push, when you bury your nose in his neck and inhale sharply.
“I’m close,” you murmur. “Please, Santi.”
“Look at me, baby,” he says. “Lemme see those pretty eyes when you come for me.”
You meet his eyes, trace the long sweep of his lashes with your gaze when the pressure in your belly snaps and you cry out.
Santiago captures your lips, swallowing down your moan, as he presses a hand to the back of your neck, fingers slowly sliding down your spine. His thrusts become sloppy and slow and his brow is furrowed.
When you whisper, “Come for me, Santi,” he exhales sharply into your mouth and comes inside you, hips slowly stuttering to a stop. “I love you.”
“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, if I don’t love you more than I deserve to.” He tugs you close, careful of your shoulder which aches more than you’re willing to admit in that moment.
But you’ve been shot before, and it's not as bad as it could be.
“Yeah,” you coo. “But I want it anyway. I want all your fucked up love.”
Santi laughs and it sounds like a sob, and you curl your fingers through his hair tugging lightly. “I meant to - the day I gave you the ring. I meant to clarify that day that we - ,”
“Mhm,” you hum against him. “Is that what this ring means? You claimed me?”
“Means we belong to each other.”
You nod, “Move in when we get back.”
“I’m gonna put in a pool in your backyard, that deck is begging for one. Gotta have somewhere to keep the boys entertained when I need to fuck you.”
You laugh and then wince at the movement in your shoulder. “Backyard is all yours.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Just then someone knocks at the door. “We have the contract for you to sign if you’re done fucking,” Frankie calls, loud enough that the whole hall probably hears.
You groan but Santi just keeps gazing at you, lips pouted, “And a dog. We gotta get a dog. And a new couch, I’m done sitting on Ben’s cheeto dust.”
“Anything. As long as you’re there.”
His breath catches and he looks like he can’t quite breathe. “Yeah,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over yours. “As long as you’re there.”
Your heart beats so hard, you think it's trying to break free from your chest to join with his.
#santiago garcia x reader#santiago garcia x you#santiago garcia#santiago pope garcia#santiago pope garcia x reader#santiago pope garcia x you#triple frontier#triple frontier x reader#triple frontier fanfiction#triple frontier fic#oscar isaac
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(13) Fake Rumors - from the vault
I have been going through some old rumors from the fake house & decided to share some. whether these may be new to you or not, but i hope you still enjoy them as much as I did looking back. I feel like in the fandom, we’ve only ever been active when it comes to lrlg and the 49 fakes. the rest of the information that fall in between aren’t as talked about or depends on the topic. as with all other bjyx material, i want a place to store some parts of it. 🤍
these are sort of random, the ones that I had saved and found again. treat it all as fiction.
( someone please make an AU fic or edit for this xz and wyb. there is a story here. look at them. 😍😍😍 )
i have traveled a long way, you have dreamed a long time. many lonely nights drift like fallen leaves but it always finds a way….🍃🍂
(1) this one was posted for the new year 🎉
XZ: Get me a courier later
🧔♂️:Okay
====
🧔♂️:What is it? It’s so light
XZ: made-up parts, Legos.
*XZ talking to a staff so he can send out some lego parts. I think it’s light because what he is sending are “parts” that WYB is missing and he found them for him. I truly like the idea of XZ spoiling WYB when it comes to his hobbies and him being invested in it too even if he isn’t necessarily a fan too. true love! and well, reminded me of the rumored lego set gift during the early days of cql filming.
(2) have you eaten?
About the backstage live broadcast of a recent event on the same stage
WYB:Have you eaten yet?
XZ: *shakes head*
WYB: Come have dinner with me later
XZ: Who else? (Looking over it, I don’t know what I’m looking for)
WYB: Stop looking for it. I’ll send it to you next time.
Supplement: Teacher W watched Teacher X take off his makeup before leaving together.
*The usual WYB making sure that XZ eats and him waiting for his gege so they can eat with each other. Even after the CQL filming, as long as they are at the same event they will try and be together. Tho instances of that have been so rare to 0 nowadays because of the amount of eyes on them.
(3) the forbidden book lol
The crew's study period
WYB: Where is the erotic book? I want to read it.
XZ: Suddenly got up and left.
*This is one of my faves even if it’s so short! Library Pavilion behind the scenes & rumors is the gift that keeps on giving. I wouldn’t put it pass WYB to troll ZZ with this.
Here’s a GIF for you to bring you back to that time🤍
(4) call me maybe? 📱
There was a period last year where everyone had to learn rap, usually🐂 learned the fastest but he was absent-minded that time🐂 was looking at us eating delicious food while resting, it seems that he is thinking his rap, he seemed to be even more tired. At this time, staff handed over the phone and he left immediately to pick it up.
He called him, and when he came back he didn't have any special expression, but he felt refreshed. 
(5) praising
WYB: I really like to be praised by everyone and feel "wow" from everyone, so every time Da Zhen's family praises me crazily, I will secretly write it down and send it to him.
XZ: I am also a part-time praise captain. Every time I praise,None of them are the same.He can often keep up with the facts.
WYB: I don’t understand a lot of Internet slang.
XZ: I always hurt him by saying, "No, you don't even know this joke, so WYB doesn't go online?" Just. very good. Laughing, every time I feel hurt, I secretly say "He is better than me. I'm young, I know everything." What kind of tone is this? One time during a video, XZ sang "Darling, come and save me." Seeing WYB's ears slowly become red and coughed. Who can tell me what’s going on with these lyrics?
(6) baking shenanigans
The puff pastry made by XZ is very delicious, WYB will also work with XZ to help when he has time. He’s busy getting started, and they will also do some weird things. If there is a strange taste, try it with the people around you.
Once WYB squeezed minced garlic into the pastry and mixed chili powder, but forgot to mark it, XZ ate it, pinched the back of the neck and squeezed the flesh of the face "Teacher Trained WYB”
*IM CACKLING AT THIS OMG WYB 😂😂😂 what flavor of pastry is that????
(7) another one about eating
Aling period
WYB: Why are you back?
XZ: Come back for dinner, there will be a show in the afternoon
WYB: Aren’t you going to eat with your friends?
XZ: I didn’t agree when someone wanted to invite me, it was too stupid.
WYB: xls It’s so difficult to eat normally today
XZ: You haven’t eaten it, have you?
WYB: Nope. I just thought you were back.
(8) checking the weather
XZ: “The weather doesn’t look like it’s going to rain...(Look 📱)
👤: "It should be sunny..."
XZ: “I just saw📱the weather forecast showed it’s going to rain soon.
👤: How is that possible? It’s obviously sunny. "(春📱)
XZ: "Huh?" (👤♥Two people facing each other📱)
XZ: Overcast to light rain to moderate rain.
👤: What you are looking at is the weather
XZ: Oh my God, so embarrassing...
XZ forgot to switch cities. no one will know the city WYB was in that day if I don’t tell you.
*This one hits different cause for this rumor, they are in different cities but in the same country. Lately, there are times that they are in diff countries so do they look at the weather their too? 🥹🥹🥹
I can’t relate to their obsession with the weather, but if that gives them a sense of connection to each other then it’s fine.
(9) raining
💚Supplement: It’s when the temperature gradually rises. At that time, it rained in June.
💚Holding an umbrella💚❤️talking all the way
❤️Start standing on the right side of 💚
💚Hold the umbrella and tilt it in the direction of ❤️
❤️Thick clothes💚Left half of light-colored thin clothes
The edges are wet and very transparent.
❤️Just keep pushing the umbrella in the direction of 💚
I wanted to block 💚 a little more, but found it was fine.
After seeing the effect, I found an opportunity to move it to the left side of 💚
Then 💚 the right half also got wet
Both centered and symmetrical….…..
(10) them and their parents.
Regarding their parents, I currently know the older one’s mom and dad can also surf the internet, and talk about about their CP and their impression of WYB is good. But his mother actually really wants to have a grandchild. His father is very indifferent when the older one comes home. I'm sure his mother won't be able to bear it. She asked him bluntly, the older ones always focus on work to fool her in the past. In July this year not only did he tell the truth to his family but took the younger one back with him.
It’s time for dinner at home, and the younger one is very nervous. He is afraid that the family will think he is not good enough. He bought a lot of things and piled them up for backup. He sprayed perfume and dressed properly and pretended. The older one made him want to laugh when he looks at him, just fool around. The younger one calls him a big bastard.
The mother on the table was holding jianguo and said she could only count on her to give birth to a litter of grandsons.
* I know that talk about their parents is sensitive and would always lead to more discussion, but again, treat this as fiction. and tbh, who could resist WYB as a son in law??? It I had a son and he brings home WYB as a boyfriend I will be very happy. I also feel soft that XZ is trying to tease and make WYB laugh.
(11)
What happened last year
WYB: Is it delicious?
XZ: (nodding while eating) Yeah, it’s quite delicious.
WYB: What about others?
XZ: Wait a minute...Wow, I just ate that, this one has no taste.
WYB: Is it too spicy?
XZ: It’s okay, but my tongue is numb and I can’t taste other flavors.
WYB: Wait a minute, drink some water. Is it really that spicy?
XZ: Try it yourself. You didn't keep it for yourself? Wasn't it sent from you?
WYB: I didn't take it apart. Bring it to me.
Then XZ really ate so much that he left two packets and took them back to WYB.
(You send it to me and I will bring it back to you. What kind of trick is this?)
What happened this year
XZ: It’s been too cold these two days.
👤: Southern kids.
XZ: :Then northerners also feel cold. Cold is cold.
(Okay, I know you have northerners in your family, next one)
👤When teasing XZ and WYB, XZ’s response was, “Hahaha” and send out red envelopes. As expected of Boss XZ.
I saw other people's submissions and came to do some post-sale service. I heard that XZ sang to put WYB to sleep. I know that there is indeed mmxhn, and there is a six-character song related to snow. (There are probably others somewhere that I don’t know about)
(12) like a fairy
XXX was wearing Iwj's white clothes for the first time
XX: Fairy, descended to earth to overcome the tribulation
XXX: Isn’t fairy a dog? You have so much information but no good words.
XX: Compliment you for being good-looking and handsome.wls, wow, so handsome!
XXX: xls looks better than me, our xls is so beautiful, ancestor of Yiling
XX: Stop, stop, it’s so shameful
*My favorite kind of rumor is when WYB goes gremlin on XZ! 😂😂😂😂
(13) cravings
WYB has been craving for "cai cai rice" recently, XZ told him many times that spring is not so good to have wild vegetables, even if they are cooked. WYB said he doesn’t care about wild vegetables he just wants to eat the vegetable rice cooked by XZ, but I don’t have that. It smells good, I just want to eat it.
In the end, he still didn’t get the cabbage meal, but freshly baked dumplings. WYB got a bargain and acted nice, he was acting coquettishly while eating.
* Oh to be WYB and have someone like XZ cook for youuuu 😍😍😍😍
-END.
P.S : this ye mi and xiao zhan AU pairing is living in my mind rent free. 🥵🥵🥵
#yizhan#bjyx#there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do#accio victuuri translation#if it wasn’t obvious enough — i love stuff from fake house lol#THIS IS A WEEKEND TREAT TO ALL OF YOU WHO HAD A TOUGH WORK WEEK ☺️☺️☺️#YASSS LETS REFERENCE TAYLOR SWIFT FROM THE VAULT
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