#(or at least to who Ben used to be) to keep an eye out for his brother | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tropes-and-tales · 2 months ago

Text

🥰 FINALLY

(Frankie "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader)

CW: Angst; talk of addiction; talk of failed relationships. Smut (PiV, unprotected). 18+ only.

Word Count: 6734

AN: This was originally requested by @elegantmusicdragon, and it's a sequel to this!

There’s no pretending they don’t know.

Will saw it firsthand. Pope heard it, then got text confirmation from Will. Ben slept through all of it, but when he wakes early in the morning, he looks across the loft and sees his brother in the wan pre-dawn light, staring at the ceiling with a haunted look on his face.

A bit of prodding later, he finds out what he missed while he slept.

You and Fish, fucking. You and Fish, the two members of the team who squabble and irritate each other the most, who sometimes outright fight and sometimes require someone else—Will, usually—to referee.

You and Fish. You thought you were quiet, but by morning, everyone knows.

And worse, you and Fish know they know. After you finished, quiet as you could be, both of your cell phones pinged with a string of incoming messages. From Pope.

Pope: 👏👏👏👏

Pope: excellent work you two

Pope: 🍆 💦💦💦💦

Pope: seriously tho ur both gross

Pope: but congrats happy for u

You read the messages and felt a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, but when you glanced over at Frankie, he only raked his hand through his hair and muttered, “fuck.”

-----

Breakfast is a surreal affair. No one says anything at first, so the only sounds are forks and spoons clinking against dishes. Chewing. Benny, doing his usual gross early morning phlegm-clearing cough.

Your face burns in embarrassment. Frankie keeps his eyes fixed on his scrambled eggs, which he only pushes around with the tines of his fork. You can feel Pope’s eyes on you, Will’s eyes, and the cabin is full of anticipation.

Pope’s the one who breaks it. He clears his throat, asks in a tone that’s phony-casual, “everyone sleep okay?”

“I didn’t,” Will replies. “Thought I heard something last night.”

“Outside?” Again, Pope’s voice is fake, an edge of chipper teasing in it.

“Sounded like something got into the cabin.”

Pope pulls a thoughtful face. “Y’know, I think I heard something too. Kinda like a wounded animal? Two wounded animals, grunting and moaning—”

Frankie huffs out a heavy sigh, and you slouch lower in your chair. Benny grins around his mug of coffee and adds, “it is mating season, I think.”

Pope snaps his finger, a eureka sort of gesture. “That must be it! We must have come here during mating season and just didn’t realize it. Wild. Who knew?”

You chafe at the word mating, which makes it sound like you and Frankie are…well, mates, so you mutter, “it’s just hooking up,” which makes Frankie sigh again, because that launches Pope into a blistering lecture about responsibility and poor choices and Jesus Christ, you two, are you even using protection? Are you at least being safe, because you sure as shit aren’t being smart?

You mumble a defensive comment that it isn’t his business (though you’re on birth control, you sure as hell aren’t admitting it to the guys—Frankie knows, and that’s all that matters), and then you find the strength to stand up, announce that you’re going for a walk down to the lake, and if they care to speculate further on your reproductive health, they can do so without your presence.

*****

Frankie can’t remember the last time he has been so mortified.

No, scratch that. He can remember. It was when he was in the throes of his addiction, and you ambushed him with an intervention. Now, a full year after that, he sees the love and care that went into it, but at the time, he felt a furious blend of anger and frustration and mortification.

This is like that, albeit less strong…but incredibly fresh.

After you march off—abandoning him, naturally—he lets the guys get their shots in. He clenches his jaw and fixes his gaze somewhere over Pope’s head, at a pattern of knots in the wood paneling on the wall. He tries to let their ribbing wash over him, but he takes each comment personally.

And he’s embarrassed. It would be one thing to be caught with a random woman from, say, a bar or a party. You, though? It feels like a weakness, a failure of character, to be caught fucking someone he barely gets along with. Pathetic, like he can’t do better. Like he couldn’t find a woman who simpers for him, who is eager to impress him, who is impressed by him. Like he’s had to settle for someone who rolls her eyes at him, who snarks at him, who doesn't think that highly of him.

Someone who saw him at his weakest, when he was addicted to coke. Someone who rolled her eyes and marched in to save the day.

Weak. Pathetic.

Frankie stews. The guys wear themselves out, split up. Benny goes to find you on your march down to the lake. He says he’ll calm you down, soothe your chagrined soul and smooth you out. Pope disappears into his room to take a work call, since he has a new contract coming up in a few days.

It leaves Frankie and Will. Frankie stands up from the table and makes his way out to the front porch, and Will follows. Frankie heaves himself onto the porch swing, and he sets a rhythm of fast, jerky swinging. Back and forth. Back and forth. He swings in time to his pounding heart, the headache forming at the base of his skull.

Will settles on the step and stretches his leg out. He turns his face to the rising sun, and he’s silent for a long moment.

“You okay?” he finally asks. There’s no teasing in his voice. He sounds genuine.

“Great.” Frankie spits it out, sarcastic.

Will jerks his chin in the direction of the cabin door. “You know we’re just teasing.”

“Yeah.”

Will hesitates before he asks, “is it really just hooking up?”

Frankie sighs. “Obviously.”

Another beat of hesitation. “You don’t have feelings for her?”

That pulls a bitter laugh from Frankie. “Obviously not.”

“Thing is, it’s not so obvious.” Will turns his head and fixes Frankie with an appraising look that Frankie doesn’t like. He meets his eye for a beat, then slides his own gaze away, looks past Will to the clearing where the fire pit is. That first evening here seems a million years ago, though it was only a couple of days.

“It’s just that you two make a weird sort of sense,” Will continues. “You’re so similar—”

“We’re nothing alike.” Frankie cuts him off tersely. “We don’t have a damned thing in common other than a shared history.”

“You’re both stubborn. You’re both strong-willed people, and you both obviously care about each other—”

“No. Nope.” He cuts him off again, and all of those bad feelings—mortification being the strongest—bubble up in him.

“I don’t care about her. Are you kidding? It was just hooking up. She was available, and it was convenient, and that’s it.”

There’s venom behind his words, a force fed by his deep embarrassment to have been caught with you. It makes his voice carry just enough that you and Ben both hear it as you walk back from the lake. Will sees you first, makes a noise in the back of his throat as he catches your expression—the hurt there, the pain that Frankie’s words cause—and then Frankie sees you too.

“Hey,” he starts to say, but you wave him off, tell him it’s fine, you’re fine…and in all the years that Frankie has known you, this is the first time you lie to him.

-----

The weekend ends on a sour note.

There’s no fight between you and Frankie, and that hurts the most. For as much as you bicker, you go silent now. When you talk to him, you’re flat. Polite. Distant.

Pope needs to head back early to get back to Colombia, and you catch a ride with him.

“Got things I need to do,” you say, and everyone knows it’s a lie, but no one knows how to call you out on it. You’re hurt, Frankie has hurt you and the guys fed into the bad feelings that led to that hurt, and everyone parts in a low mood.

A hundred times Frankie’s finger hovers over your name on his phone. A hundred times he starts to craft a message in his head, only to toss the phone aside.

A hundred times he struggles to fall asleep because he cannot get your face out of his head. That look of surprise and hurt, and all his fault because he was an asshole who was embarrassed to be caught hooking up with you.

No, not was an asshole. Is an asshole. Because a hundred times he thinks he’ll summon the courage to reach out, but a hundred times, he fails.

-----

He doesn’t see you for six months. He don’t talk to you directly, and the best he gets is your short, clipped responses in the gang’s group chat. Even there, you tend to go silent.

He dare not ask one of the guys how you’re doing. He sees the Miller brothers the most, talks to Pope only sometimes, and maybe there’s a separate group chat because it seems as though the three of them have reached some agreement to never mention you around Frankie.

Six months. Half a year after the cabin by the lake. How does Frankie spend his time? Lonely, mostly. He goes to work, then goes home. He goes to meetings once a week, but he rarely has cravings and has less pressure to use. He started using before because he just had too much going on—work and married life, Pope’s scheming to make them all millionaires, Tom’s death. Now Frankie has very little. Just a job. Just a small apartment where he sits alone on his secondhand couch and eats microwaved leftovers while the TV plays at a low volume.

A hundred times he thinks to call you. A hundred times he thinks to drive to where you live—one town over, but only a fifteen minute drive. He could apologize; he could try to understand why you looked so hurt. Of course he cares for you, deep down, but it isn’t love…or was it?

A hundred times that question floats to the front of his mind, and a hundred times he shoves it down, ignores it, waits for it to recede from his thoughts.

-----

Six months after the cabin by the lake, Frankie sees you again. Pope is in town for his birthday. His latest contract has ended, the next one hasn’t begun, and he has a stretch of time to visit and gorge himself on all the things he can’t get overseas.

His birthday is held at Will and Benny’s place. When Frankie rolls up a solid half hour late, though, Will is outside waiting for him.

“How’s it going?” he asks, and the two exchange their usual handshake into a half-hug.

“Good. You?”

“Good.” Will jams his hands in his pockets and fixes Frankie with a curious look. “She’s in there, you know.”

It says a lot that the she in this case is you and not his ex-wife, who arguably would put the guys more on alert. How have you managed to reach such a dubious place of honor?

Frankie tries to sound casual. “Yeah, I figured.” A beat, and he adds, “don’t worry. I don’t plan on fighting with her. It’s Pope’s night.”

Will furrows his brow at that, shakes his head faintly. “Yeah, I know. But Frankie, she’s in there with someone else. Pope’s buddy, remember?”

-----

Fucking Paolo.

Fucking recently-divorced, recently-cheated on, sad piece of shit Paolo. Pope’s buddy that he tried—and apparently succeeded at—setting you up with at the cabin.

Thing is, the guy isn’t a sad piece of shit. Or a troll, as Frankie had teased you at the cabin. The man is handsome; an easy smile and warm eyes. Hair that looks great but like he didn’t try to make it look great. Clothing well-fitted and well-made, but not obnoxiously designer. Good handshake, when Frankie is introduced. A genuine ‘nice to meet you’ in accented English.

Frankie’s jealousy, as it turns out, is wide and deep and never-ending.

Because for fuck’s sake, you look happy. Relaxed. Paolo puts his hand on your lower back and leads you to get fresh drinks. He slings an arm around your waist as you stand and chat with Pope. He turns and whispers something in your ear that makes you giggle, and how is Frankie just now learning that you fucking giggle, and that it sounds cute on you, a musical little laugh that makes his stomach turn because he’s never drawn such a sound from you?

And Paolo must smooth out your rough edges because you gift Frankie a little smile and ask how he’s been, and there’s no venom behind the question. No lingering bad will.

You’ve moved on, it seems, and it hits Frankie harder than he thought it would. He ends up leaving after only a few hours, lies and says he’s coming down with something, but he takes one backwards glance at you before he goes.

You aren’t looking at him at all. You’re looking—gazing—at fucking Paolo’s handsome fucking face, and Frankie’s first thought is she never looked at me like that.

His second thought is maybe I never gave her a reason to look at me like that.

-----

Frankie sees you once a few months after Pope’s birthday, by accident at the grocery store. You’re alone and frowning slightly in the produce section, looking at the selection of apples on display. Paolo is nowhere in sight, but that doesn’t mean anything.

You don’t see Frankie. He stands by the cut flowers and studies you from under the brim of his hat, and he half-hopes you turn and see him. He half-hopes you don’t. He stands by a bucket of cheerful daisies and wonders if Paolo brings you flowers.

He half-hopes the man does, because you deserve flowers. He half-hopes he doesn’t, because Frankie is jealous and hates the thought that Paolo has only known you for a fraction of time—far less than Frankie has known you—and is still probably that much better for you than Frankie would have been.

Frankie doesn’t know what to do with himself. His thumb still hovers over your contact information in the still, quiet hours of the night.

He thinks of the intervention you staged for him. He had stormed out, furious to be so embarrassed and exposed, and you had followed.

He remembers you stopping him, your hands turning him to face you. Your hands gripping either side of his face as you stared deep into his eyes and pleaded with him to get his shit together.

It’s as good of advice now as it was then.

-----

A year after the cabin by the lake, and everyone returns to the cabin by the lake.

Frankie hesitates when Will calls for his confirmation. Will must guess why, because Will not-so-casually mentions that it’s just the core folks, you and Frankie and Pope and the Millers. No plus-ones.

“Just us,” Will reminds him. “To remember Tom.”

So fucking Paolo won’t be there with his nice smile and nice hair and his hand resting lightly on your back, and Frankie agrees to come.

When he arrives, it is just like the year before. Pope pulls rank and calls dibs on the lone single bedroom. The Miller brothers scamper up to the loft like children, poking at each other and laughing the whole way.

Which leaves you and Frankie exactly where you were a year ago. Awkwardly sharing the living room with the lumpy couch and a mattress on the floor. Frankie glances at you, opens his mouth to say something, but Pope—who tosses his bag into the bedroom, then strides back out—comes up to you and pulls you into a hug that kind of looks like a headlock.

“Sorry to hear about it,” he says, and Frankie is bewildered for a beat before Pope adds, “for the record, I told him he was being fucking stupid.”

His mind guesses that this is about Paolo, but his mouth, which often operates independently of his mind, blurts out, “did you break up?”

You peer out at him from where Pope has you tucked against him, and grumble, “how’d you say it last year? I’d only disappoint him.”

Frankie sucks in a breath, remembers the shot he took at you. He shakes his head, ashamed at the memory, but doesn’t say anything.

“No. No, no, no.” Pope adjusts his hold, puts you in an actual headlock. He glances over at Frankie and clarifies, “he got back together with his ex-wife.”

“She was better than me,” you chime in, and it sounds muffled.

“Nope again. She’s a cheater, and she’ll cheat again, and you’ll be off with someone far better.” Pope adjusts his hold as you struggle against him, and he adds, “now say something nice about yourself. No feeling sorry, so say something nice.”

“I’m a good cook.” It’s muffled again; your face is pressed against Pope’s side where he holds you fast.

“No good. I mean, you’re a good cook, yes, but you learned that. It’s not essential to who you are.”

“Pope, c’mon,” you whine. “Lemme go.”

“Not until you say it.”

Frankie smiles at the exchange, but he puzzles over it too. He wonders at the relationship you have with Pope, separate from him and the other guys. He supposes he’s never considered it—he always thought you and he had a separate thing, but never considered how you got on with Pope or Will or Ben independent of him, separate from the broader group.

But Paolo was Pope’s friend too, and Frankie wonders how much Pope hyped you up to Paolo and vice versa. And how much Pope has been there for you now that it’s ended, perhaps feeling guilty to have it go sideways on you.

Hence this little game that seems well-established: Pope holding you in a headlock, forcing you to speak well of yourself.

“I’m…loyal,” you finally concede.

Pope shoots Frankie a grin and replies, “yes, you are. You’re good as gold.”

But he doesn’t release you quick enough, and you get enough of an arm free to lightly sucker punch him low in the stomach, and Frankie smiles wider because that’s the you he recognizes best—the one who puts up with shit to a certain level, then comes out swinging.

-----

The first night this time is much the same as the last time. There’s a bonfire, a cooler of beers, laughter. Loons call across the water to each other, and sparks from the fire drift on the updraft to merge with the stars glimmering above them.

Frankie feels restless. He fiddles with his bottle of beer, rolls it between his palms, peels the label. He hasn’t seen you in so long, hasn’t talked to you for even longer, and now you’re sitting across the fire ring from him. Your face is gilded orange and gold in the flames, and while you laugh with them, you seem a touch sad. Quieter than usual.

When everyone finally turns in, he offers you the mattress on the floor. For the first time since you’ve arrived, you pause and look at him. Actually look at him: meet his eyes, study his face.

“The couch is lumpy,” you remind him. “Your back.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Nah, I’m okay.” You turn away and shake out the folded blanket, and Frankie despairs at how polite and distant you are now. His own fault, but he loathes it. He wishes you’d squabble with him again, pick a fight, tease him until he huffs in frustration.

“Hey, can we talk?” he asks. He watches you lie down. You punch at the pillow, turn on your side, then settle and sigh.

“I’d rather not, Fish.”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry—”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “For Paolo? You kinda said it would go down the exact way it went down.”

He shakes his head. “No, but I should have never said that—”

“It’s fine.”

“I meant, I wanted to say I’m sorry for before.”

“Oh.”

“Here, last year.” He swallows and studies your expression, which gives nothing away. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was cruel, and—”

“I get it. I remember. It’s fine, Fish. Everything’s fine.”

He wants to add more, but you roll over to face the back of the couch, your back to him. It occurs a moment later that you’re still lying to him, because you’ve just said everything was fine at least four times in the past five minutes, and he gets the distinct impression that nothing is fine.

-----

The next day, you hike again. It’s a different route this time, and the summit is different but the view is the same, just a different angle: placid lake below, brilliant blue sky above, and a picnic lunch spread out on the rock.

Frankie has done a lot of work on himself. In the past months, he’s learned to stop thinking of himself as a fixed point. Life is not a ladder, as he always imagined. He can change and adapt and not think himself weak for backing up and taking a different route when the first route proves to be a dead end.

Case in point: you and your occasional balking as you hike down a mountain. There’s a stretch that is dicey, loose graveled and steep, and sure enough, you falter, then freeze.

Frankie from last year got impatient with you, and left you behind for Benny to rescue.

Frankie from this year recognizes that your fear isn’t a personal failing. It’s a quirk. It makes you you, and how he reacts now is what makes him him. The new and improved Frankie. Less of an asshole. Back up, try a new way.

“Take your time,” he tells you now. “There’s no rush.”

You don’t seem to hear him. You’re so used to him being frustrated that you say, plaintive, “just go around, Fish.”

A breath. New and improved Frankie. “No, I’ll wait for you. I’m here.”

You glance at him, and he sees the whites of your eyes: the fear there. He regrets that he wasn’t patient with you before. Another breath, like his therapist taught him. He feels the regret, then lets it go. He reminds himself that he can be better now.

Frankie reaches out a hand to you. “C’mon,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

Of course you stare at him a long moment like he’s grown two heads. Like he’s been replaced by some alien double who is kind instead of snappish.

You end up taking his hand, though, and he grips you firmly, takes you step by step out of the perilous stretch of the trail.

-----

Dinner is Pope on steaks, you on pasta and vegetables again. Benny, who took an internet wine course to impress a girl, pops the corks on a few bottles of middle shelf vintage. He explains about how it has to breathe, how it has to release the bouquet until Pope steps away from the steaks to smack him upside his head.

New and improved Frankie. When the dinner conversation touches on your breakup, he murmurs his consolations. When Pope gives the entire history of Paolo and his volatile ex-wife, he clicks his tongue and shakes his head in disgust.

New and improved Frankie. He tells you your contributions to the meal are delicious, and he misses the sly look that Will gives to Pope because Frankie is too focused on you. Your face twists in confusion at his praise, and you reply a beat later with a lilt of questioning, “thank you?”

-----

New and improved Frankie. He manages to beat you to the living room before bed, and he snags the couch while you’re brushing your teeth. You stop in your tracks when you see him, and you narrow your eyes.

“Take the mattress tonight,” he says. He ignores the spring in the couch digging into the left side of his ass. “Seriously.”

The guys are all already tucked into their own beds, so when you put your hands on your hips and demand to know what the hell is wrong with him, you keep your voice low.

“Nothing wrong with me.”

You don’t buy it, but your scowl softens. “Frankie, are you using again?”

He laughs. Of course you’d associate his attempts at niceness with drugs.

“Not at all. I’m at about eighteen months clean.”

That replaces your scowl with a smile. A genuine one. “Oh, Fish. Congratulations.”

“It’s thanks to you.”

“Nah. You’re the one who did the hard work.”

“You’re the one who saw I had a problem.”

“The guys noticed it too.”

“Yeah, but.” He takes a breath. “You’re the one who took action. You probably saved my life.”

You wave him off, and you kneel down on the mattress, then sit cross-legged and look at him. “You give me too much credit, Fish.”

That makes him shake his head. “No, I never gave you enough credit. I was married, remember. Sophie never noticed, and if she did, she didn’t set up an intervention. It was all you.”

Something about being so open makes you uncomfortable. You fold your hands in your lap and look down at them. “Where is all this coming from?” Your voice is quiet, and Frankie has to strain to hear you.

“What do you mean?”

A sigh. “I mean, I don’t want you to be nice because I got dumped. I hate pity.”

He sits up a bit, props himself on his elbow and watches you. “It’s not pity.”

“Then why are you being so nice? We haven’t argued once and it’s been over a day.” You glance over at him, your hands twisting in your lap restlessly.

He sits up completely and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “I hated the way I left things with you before.” A pause. “Remember what you told me at my intervention? You said I had to get my shit together. I thought, ‘okay, I’m clean now, I have some clean months behind me. So why am I still so fucking miserable to be with?’”

“Fish, you aren’t miserable to be—”

“I am.” He cuts you off. “And I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be the man who makes you feel like shit because I’m embarrassed we got caught hooking up. You’re not something to be ashamed of, and I acted like a complete asshole.”

The corner of your mouth twitches in a sardonic smile. “The guys were being obnoxious.”

“And I should have been obnoxious back. I could have talked you up. Talked us up. Instead of being a dick, I could have said, ‘yeah, we’re hooking up, and it’s amazing, so be jealous about it because you’re all single with no prospects.’”

“We were technically single too.”

He nods, serious. “Yeah, we were, but maybe we shouldn’t have been.”

That makes you laugh; an honest-to-god belly laugh that has you wrapping your arms around your stomach. Frankie winces, glances up at the loft where the Miller brothers are theoretically sleeping, then he pushes the worry aside. Who gives a shit if they hear you laughing with him?

When he doesn’t laugh too, your laughter dies down. “Wait, you’re not joking?”

“No.”

A long pause with the two of you watching each other. “…and you’re sure you’re not using?”

“I’m sure. I had a piss test last week for work.”

“…okay.”

He sighs and holds his hands out to you, palms up. Entreating. “I’ve been seeing a therapist. Yes, it feels like bullshit, but it’s something, you know? Having a third party to bounce my bad memories against. My bad feelings. He’s helped me figure out some stuff.”

You blink at him in sincere surprise. “I’m proud of you, Fish.”

That makes a warm flush course through him, you being proud of him. “It’s a cliché, but there’s shit from childhood that really can fuck a person up as an adult, you know?”

“Oh, I know it. Eldest daughter, right here. Child of functional alcoholics.”

“I guess I always had this set idea in my head of how life was gonna be, and when it was not that, when it turned out to be something that I constantly had to work out, I didn’t know how to handle that,” he admits.

“I get that too.” You nod along, and you stop fiddling with your hands.

Frankie takes a deep breath and plunges ahead. He has to get it out, and he has your attention.

“And, you know, I had set ideas about relationships. Women. Marriage.”

The sardonic smile returns. “Here we go.”

“I was trying to recreate a perfect version of my parents’ marriage,” he admits. It took some deep work to realize it. Talking in therapy, dredging up memories he thought he had buried nice and deep. “I thought if I could do it like them, but better, I would have won.”

“Won what, exactly?” you ask softly.

“Life? I don’t even know. It sounds stupid to say it out loud, but I thought it would mean that I had succeeded as an adult. As a man. Like people would look at me and be impressed.”

He glances at you, and you nod encouragingly. He takes another deep breath, and he asks you to just listen to the next part, to not interrupt. To let him get it all out before you stop listening.

“Okay.” Another nod, and you settle your hands in your lap again and hold them there.

“So I tried to recreate my parents’ marriage, right? I found a woman a lot like my mom. Traditional, stay at home. Sophie wanted to be taken care of, you know. She didn’t want to work. She wanted someone to make the decisions for her on all the big adult stuff. She wanted to keep house and have kids and be a soccer mom. Make homemade Halloween costumes and throw elaborate birthday parties for our four or five children, and there was nothing wrong with that. I thought she’d be better than my mom, an actual mom, you know? Not someone to get bitter about her missed opportunities and tell her kids how she sacrificed everything for them. Because that’s what my childhood was like. My mom always couched everything in what she gave up, like me or my brothers asked to be born.”

He pauses, catches his breath. You’re watching him, expectant, so he continues.

“And meanwhile, I thought I’d be the best husband. The best dad. I had a military career, and they trained me to fly helicopters. I was so much further ahead than my own dad, who drove a tow truck. He worked hard all day, then came home to a bitter wife. The best thing in his life was drinking cheap beer in the garage and hiding from her, and here I was, married to Sophie with a good military job and benefits, and I should have been so happy to be winning.”

“But you weren’t,” you say gently. It isn’t a question.

He shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t. And I didn’t know why. I started to resent Soph for never making a decision. Mortgage went up because property taxes went up? Not her problem. Roof needed replaced? I had to figure it out. Car registration expired while I was overseas, and she got a ticket? Somehow I had to solve it from the middle of goddamned Afghanistan. We didn’t even have kids yet, and I was feeling all this pressure to be an adult for both of us. When I got back home on leave, she tells me that she’s stopped her birth control, and I just…cracked.”

“I get it, Fish. I mean, not being married, but I get how it feels to expect one thing in your life and have the opposite happen.”

He holds up a palm to remind you to let him get it all out, and you whisper “sorry. Go ‘head.”

“And then there was you. The complete opposite of Soph, you know? You were…are this super independent woman, and whenever we were stuck overseas and Soph was struggling with running a house stateside, you were just there, chirping about what she needed to do. Like it was nothing. And I got irritated with you because you are just so damned pulled together and even-keeled and…and easy. It’s so easy with you, and I hated it because I knew I made the wrong choice after all. I tried so hard to avoid my parents’ marriage’s pitfalls that I just fell into the same pattern even harder, and you were the one who showed me that.”

He watches to see how his words land. When you blink at him, he sees a film of tears there, so he plunges forward to get the rest out.

“I didn’t even realize that I loved you. That’s how fucked in the head I was. I picked fights with you and told the guys how irritating I thought you were, and you stuck to me anyway. I could never shake you off. We mustered out and you saw me drowning in my addiction, and I still told myself that I didn’t like you, didn’t care about you. I got divorced, and we started hooking up, and I swear to god, sweetheart, hand up to god: the first time we slept together, it felt like I was finally home, and I still couldn’t admit it to myself. I kept telling you each time that it was the last time but I kept coming back for more because you feel like home and I loved you, but I fucked it all up because I didn’t understand who I was or what I wanted.”

He stops there, spent. He feels like he’s been emptied out, and he stares down at his own clenched hands and waits for you to say something. Anything.

There’s a long, long moment of silence. He hears the loons on the lake and the wind rustling the trees outside, but you don’t say anything for so long.

Then you breathe out his name, an “oh, Frankie,” and when he looks up, he sees the tears streaming down your face.

“I mean it,” he adds softly. “I’m sorry, but I mean it. I love you. I’ve probably always loved you. Thinking back, I can’t remember a time I didn’t. I just didn’t realize it.”

You’re crying openly now, but you’re trying to be quiet. Frankie doesn’t even think of the guys nearby; he stands up and makes his way to where you sit on the mattress, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters against the side of your head, and he has no idea what you’re thinking—if you’re horrified or embarrassed or something else by his admission. It’s out now, though. He can’t take it back, and he doesn’t think he would want to take it back anyway.

It takes another long moment of him holding you awkwardly, you trying not to cry too loudly. But then you give a weak laugh, and whisper hoarsely, “I really thought you were on drugs again.”

“Therapy is sometimes harder than sobriety.”

You pull away a little and stare at him with eyes brilliant with tears. “Would you have said anything if I were still with Paolo?”

“Maybe. I might have changed the messaging. I wouldn’t have wanted to get in the middle of anything.”

You chuck him weakly on his bicep. “I’ve missed you, you asshole. And I wasn’t expecting any of this.”

He grins down at you. “If you feel too out of sorts, we could argue.”

“Yeah?”

“You pointed out that we haven’t argued once yet.”

“Feels weird.”

“It does. Want a big fight or just a little one?”

“Might as well go big. It’s been so long.”

Frankie chuckles. He releases you. He holds his hands up and makes a ‘gimme’ gesture with them. A ‘give me your best shot’ gesture.

“C’mon then. Let’s hear it,” he says.

You smile and swipe at your wet eyes. “Okay. You’re a real fucking piece of work, dropping all this heavy shit on me out of nowhere.”

“Maybe you’re a real fucking piece of work to have never guessed.”

A laugh of surprise erupts out of you. “How in the hell would I ever have guessed that?”

“You notice everything else. You noticed I was using before.”

“So you dropping a ton of weight and looking like shit from coke is the same as being in love?”

“With you?” he scoffs. “Absolutely. Can’t sleep, no appetite, can’t think straight ‘cos of you—”

“Fuck you, Fish,” you say, and then you’re on him, your mouth sliding over his, and it feels just as he said: you feel just like home. It stretches out, long and eager, the two of you obviously missing each other and making up for lost time. Too much lost time.

He breaks the kiss long enough to get you turned and under him, to get your thin cotton shorts down around your ankles, to get his own pajama pants down enough to free his hardening cock. He bullies himself between your thighs but you spread yourself wide eagerly. You grasp the back of his neck with one hand, but you reach down with your other hand, take him in hand, and stroke him to his full length. He touches you between your legs, feels you growing wet and slick for him, and it’s just like home when he kisses you, and it’s just like home when he notches himself against your entrance and then slides into you.

What’s new, though, is how he drops his head so his mouth is near your ear, and he whispers, “god, I love you so fucking much.”

It’s new, too, how you clench down at those words, then turn his head to make him look at you, so he can see your eyes when you whisper back, “I love you too, Frankie. Always.”

*****

In the past year, Pope has obtained a prescription for medication to help him sleep, so he misses the texts flying in the shadow group chat that is just him and Miller brothers. He only reads them when he wakes up to birdsong outside his window.

Will: u hearing this?

Will: Pope. POPE.

Benny: Wkae up, asshole.

Will: u will never guess what’s happening

Benny: 🍆🍑💦

Will: Fish told her he loved her.

Benny: bro, wake the fuck up. This is wild.

Will: HE SAID HE LOVES HER

Benny: disgusting but wild

Will: I think she said it back

It’s five in the morning when Pope wakes up and reads the texts. He grins, and he wonders if Benny realizes that the peach emoji usually is a stand-in for an ass, which means Benny was implying that you and Fish had anal sex while they all slept nearby, which seems unlikely.

Pope climbs out of bed quietly to use the bathroom, and it takes him through the living room where you and Frankie are asleep. Together, he notes. You’re both fully clothed—thank Christ for small miracles—but you’re together on the mattress on the floor. Frankie’s arm is over your waist, and your hand lightly circles his wrist.

Fucking gross.

But also fucking adorable.

Pope uses the bathroom, then tiptoes back to his bed. He re-reads the texts, then types out his reply to Will and Benny.

Pope: 🥰

Pope: FINALLY.

#kinktober2024 #clear the inbox 2024 #tropes and tales #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales imagine #triple frontier

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aemondapologistfrfr · 4 months ago

Text

His Princess - pt2

Pt 2 of His Princess

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Summary: Rhaenyra asks y/n to take her host to Harrenhal to speak to Daemon. Y/n rises to the challenge of Daemon and the River Lords watch on in shock and silence.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, political plotting, prob wine somewhere in a cup, bathing, thigh riding, face riding, p in v

Authors Note: soft moments w silverwing and ben, i believe this man would beg you teach him some high valyrian just so he could talk to silverwing and write it down and keep it in his pocket, idc if it’s unrealistic to pet a dragons belly it’s real to me!!, daemon needs to LEAVE harrenhal and step tf up like enough already

Word Count: 4.7k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Over the past week I’ve been in contact with Jace about the status of our growing host in the Riverlands. Rhaenyra has finally returned home and expresses her gratitude for the swords that I’ve raised for her. She takes over the correspondence from Jace as we begin to discuss who is on our side and best ways to bring the other Lords to our cause.

She confides to me concerning her worry about Daemon. She has asked that I meet Ser Alfred Broome in Harrenhal and see if Daemon can be brought to reason. She hopes that he will start to relax and hopefully return to Dragonstone upon seeing their host. We have been on the move ever since her request while slowly adding swords along the way.

“We should reach Harrenhal on the morrow.” Ben ducks into the tent as I lounge on the makeshift bed.

“Thank the Gods. I need a fucking bath.” I slide over so he can join me.

“You still look absolutely divine to me.” as he pulls me into him.

“Oh I’m sure,” I roll my eyes. “The dirt and grime are very comely.” I sigh looking at my nails.

“At Harrenhal I’ll make sure you get the largest and hottest bath available. Even if it means displacing its current Lord.” he promises.

“I’ll hold you to that.” I hum. “I have no idea what state Daemon is in.” I sigh, wiping my face.

“He should be happy you’ve raised a host.” Ben murmurs as he finger brushes through my hair.

“We can only hope.” I moan as his fingers scratch along my scalp as I turn so he can continue his movements.

“Let’s hope they have feed to spare for Silverwing. She’s been eyeing our host for some time now.” he chuckles as he begins to loosely braid my hair.

“Mm, speaking of, I should take her out to hunt.” I sigh stretching out as he completes the plait.

“Will you let me come with you this time?” his eyes light up as he pleads.

“You’ll have to ask her yourself.” I chuckle as I begin to rise and stretch out.

I slowly put my riding armor back on as Ben quickly pulls his own armor on stumbling after me out of the tent. The host around us is now up to 5,000 swords and it’s easy to get lost in the chaos that surrounds us daily. We see the outline of Silverwing in the trees as we approach.

“Wait,” Ben pulls me to a stop. “It’s Hello my beast Silverwing?” a laugh bubbles out of my mouth as his face turns red.

“Y/n, my Princess, please.” he begs trying to hide his embarrassment.

“If you say that she will never allow you to ride with me.” I try to settle my giggles. “Hello, my beautiful Silverwing.” I look to him and nod for him to repeat.

“Hello, my beautiful Silverwing?” his Riverland accent makes the sentence sound funny but he’s got the words down at least.

“Well let’s go see if I get to keep enjoying you or if her meal has delivered itself to her.” I pull him by his arm with a smile on my face. I nod at him to go greet my sleeping dragon as I stand nearby.

“Hello,” his voice slightly stumbles as she begins to stir. “Hello, my beautiful Silverwing.” I hear the confidence in his voice as Silverwing begins to rise.

She looks over to me and then looks down at Ben and huffs. His hair is blown askew by her deep breath as she lowers her head to his height. He puts his hands up as I continue to give her a stern look. She gives a soft chirp before she pushes him with her snout.

“I didn’t learn any other words. Y/n says my accent is funny.” he speaks softly to Silverwing as he settles his hands on the side of her jaw.

She softly blinks at him and then looks to me as if I was so mean for stating the obvious to him. Ben slowly relaxes as he continues to offer her pats. She watches him intently as he begins to walk the length of her. She thuds back to the ground and rolls onto her side for him to pat her belly.

“Oh you big baby.” I chuckle lovingly as I approach them both. We continue to offer her pats and words of adoration until she grumbles and begins to turn back over. “He wants to come with us to hunt.” her eyes lock with mine and narrow. She closes her eyes and dips her wing down for us to climb up.

“Let’s see how this goes.” I breathe out as I gesture for him to start climbing.

“What do I grab on to?” he turns to me suddenly nervous.

“Whatever you can. I’ll be right behind you.” I nod reassuringly as he grabs on to her leg. Silverwing chuffs as we slowly climb on and settle into the saddle. I clip us in and his arms wrap around my waist tightly.

“It’s not too late to get down.” I turn my head and offer to him softly.

“No, it’ll be fun.” he nods as he tries to strengthen his resolve but his words come out a little breathy.

“Fly, Silverwing.” she rises to her full height and I feel Ben’s hands lock tightly together around me.

She launches us into the sky and I feel Ben press his head into my back. I chuckle wildly as she circles our host and gives them an eerie song. We coast along the breeze until we reach the river and she slowly begins to dip down. Ben slowly releases his hands and begins to look down at the land below us.

“What a fucking rush.” he chuckles with me as Silverwing dips into the river to collect fish.

She continues to collect more fish and spits them out on the nearby shore. Once she has a large pile she lands and scorches the fish in a burning pyre. She quickly chomps down on her meal as we stay firmly seated basking in her power.

“Should we get-“

Silverwing shoots us back into the clouds as Ben gasps, handing flying around my waist once more. I raise my hands from the reins and allow my fingertips to caress the clouds as we fly back to camp. With enough encouragement, Ben releases his hands from my waist and allows his fingers to dance in the clouds with us.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

We begin marching out just before dawn. The men grumble but are looking forward to making it to Harrenhal finally. Silverwing is becoming restless the closer we get to the Crownlands as she can feel the tension pulsing through us.

We mainly ride the breeze only going in front of the host when we’re about an hour out from the castle. As I approach, Caraxes high pitched song pierces my ears. Silverwing gives out a greeting as we circle back to our host. Caraxes seems to have stayed at the castle much to my relief that Daemon isn’t feeling particularly reckless today.

I land outside the gates and await the host to break through the trees. Once Ben is at my side we begin to approach the gates as they grind open. Daemon swaggers out and looks to me with his hand on his sword pommel.

“Y/n.” he looks at me and the men behind me as if he’s unimpressed.

“Daemon.” I sigh and roll my eyes.

“I’ve claimed Harrenhal.” I squint my eyes at his words.

“And I’ve raised a host.” I shake my head at him confused.

“For who?” he tilts his head to me.

“What is wrong with you? What do you mean? For Rhaenyra.” I approach him studying him.

“It seems as if his knees are bent to you the way he hovers behind you.” he raises his chin to Ben who has indeed followed close behind me on approach.

“Get over yourself. Are we welcome or no. You wanted an army and I’ve brought you one.” my voice starts to rise as I tire of his antics and want the bath I was promised.

“Did she send you?” Daemons eyes squint.

“You’re going fucking mad, Daemon. We are staying. I’m taking the largest bathtub.” I roll my eyes, shaking my head with a chuckle. “His knees are bent to me and he’s mine. He’s not to be touched by anyone.” Daemon smirks at my words as he gestures with his arm for us to enter.

“Welcome,” Lord Simon says as the gates groan the rest of the way open. “Welcome to Harrenhal.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I almost sob looking at the massive bath made before me. I make quick work of my clothes and armor as servants whisk them away to clean them before leaving me alone. The second the seaming water engulfs me all of my muscles sigh in relief. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and I groan.

“What?” I grit out through my teeth.

“It’s me.” Ben peeks his head around the door.

“Then get in here and shut the door. I’m in the fucking bath, Ben.” I hiss at him and feel instantly bad as I know I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on him. “I’m sorry,” I sigh out. “What’s wrong?” I sink lower into the pool.

“You didn’t invite me and I felt left out.” his voice teasing. I grab his hand and begin to pull him in with me. He bats my hand away chucking as he takes his clothes off before slipping in the water next to me.

“Better?” I ask resting my head on his shoulder.

“Much.” he hums content. “What happened with Daemon earlier?” he asks softly before grabbing the soap next to us so we can begin our deep clean.

“He’s going insane. I have no idea what’s wrong with him.” I shake my head not knowing how I’m supposed to deal with this. Hopefully Ser Alfred will arrive soon and offer his support.

“What did he say?” he asks as helps me wash my hair once he’s finished his.

“He knows you’re loyal to me. I don’t think he trusts Rhaenyra. His words seemed off and paranoid. I’ll send a raven to Rhaenyra in the morning.” I know my tone is slightly clipped, I’m just done discussing pressing matters. I want to enjoy my bath while a handsome man dotes on me.

“Maybe it’s this old, haunted castle. They say it’ll turn the most sane man mad.” Ben thinks to himself as he rinses out my hair. I’m thankful we’re finally clean but I can’t handle this conversation any longer.

“Ben, I need you to be quiet and make me feel good or leave. I do not wish to discuss strategy or ghosts.” he chuckles as I turn and he takes in my scrunched brow.

“I’m sorry, my Princess. Is the war boring you?” he chuckles pulling me to straddle his thigh.

I sigh as he pulls me forward causing the most delicious friction. He continues sliding me across his thigh and my eyes shut. My hips begin to move on their own accord seeking the pleasure I’ve been needing all week. Whimpers fall from my mouth as Ben looks at me with a smirk.

“So you don’t want to discuss-“

“I will cut your fucking tongue out.” I reply breathlessly as his hands grind me down on to his thigh roughly.

“Then how will I be able to lick your-“

I crash my lips to his in hopes he’ll remain silent. He chuckles against my lips as his fingers dig into my sides. He begins to move my hips quicker as the water begins to splash around us. I begin to moan into his mouth as pleasure begins to explode through my body. His lips capture mine once more as he slowly continues to grind me against him to prolong my pleasure.

“Beautiful,” Ben whispers and my eyes snap open. “Fuck, please let me have said it right.” panic laces his words.

“You did,” my lips attach to his as my heart stumbles.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

I sit around the council table with the River Lords who look from me to Daemon. Ser Alfred has arrived this morning and hasn’t been able to form a coherent conversation with Daemon. My eyes stay planted on him as his head lulls as he grips his cup. When his eyes seem to uncloud he stares at Lord Simon’s child, Alys, I’m told.

“Pull yourself together.” I grit out to Daemon who is currently making a fool of himself.

“When did this meeting start?” his words borderline slurred as he looks to Alys who comes to his side.

I shake my head in confusion as she whispers into his ear. I look to Ben to make sure I’m not the only one seeing this and all of the Lords faces mirror mine. They turn me expectantly and I’m at a loss for what to do.

“That’s enough, Alys. Thank you.” I rise out of my chair dismissing her.

“Isn’t it strange we’re almost kin?” she whispers as she brushes past me. I turn quickly but she’s already out of the hall and I take my place again in my seat.

“Are you drunk?” I hiss to Daemon who has an amusing look on his face.

“Welcome River Lords,” Daemon rises, ignoring my question. “I’m thankful you’ve all deigned to join me in Harrenhal. I know how alluring it is to follow a Targaryen Princess.” he looks to me with a smirk.

“While you’ve been doing Gods know what, I’ve been rallying for Rhaenyra. Did she send you here to simply cut wood?” my anger very evident in my voice.

“I’ve secured the largest castle.” he looks down to me.

“Yes, the crumbling, empty castle. What a win Daemon. While you’ve been indulging yourself on wine and bastards we’ve all been doing our part to help Rhaenyra claim the throne.” I shake my head at a loss. I know we shouldn’t be speaking like this in front of the Lords but I can’t help it.

“I will not be belittled by you.” Daemon spits his words at me.

“You’ve done it yourself. Everyone at this table can see you’re going mad.” I look to him as he goes to look out the window.

Ser Alfred looks at me in warning not to push him too far. The other Lords are doing well to hide their terror as I verbally challenge Daemon in this hall. I’m hoping with the right kind of push and verbal berating he will get his head out of his ass and start to fight for Rhaenyra once more.

“Is that true?” he turns to the table of men with narrowed eyes. “Who thinks I’m going mad?” he approaches and leans his hands on the table assessing everyone.

“Go home, Daemon.” I rise from my chair to switch his focus to me and not our Lords. Ben’s hands slip to mine to try and have me sit back down but I can’t stand down from this fight, my mother needs me. “Rhaenyra needs you at her side.” I look to him with pleading eyes.

“Mm, is that what she told you?” he stalks over to me.

“If you bothered to read any of the ravens from either of us, you know it would be true. Must you always be reminded that you are The Daemon Targaryen? The Rogue Prince? You are a force to be reckoned with. Leave this crumbling castle to me and the Lords and return to Dragonstone. Clear your mind. Stand at her side so we may show a united front.” I can see my words process through his mind as he looks at me curiously.

“You want this castle for yourself.” he concludes much to my anger and frustration.

“Leave us.” I turn to the Lords who look at me slack jawed. They begin to shuffle out of the hall as Ben lingers behind. “Ben,” I warn with narrowed eyes.

“You think you can handle my daughter?” Daemon chuckles lowly as he looks to Ben. He hasn’t called me his daughter in years which is how I know something sinister is going on inside these walls. I walk to Ben and push him outside the door before I seal them.

“It’s saved you before.” Ben’s words are hushed as he places the bone knife into my palm. “Please don’t make me regret leaving this hall.” he looks down to me with pleading eyes as I shut the door separating us.

“Sit.” I nod my head to the table and slip the knife into an empty sheath at my thigh before I claim a seat across from him.

“Do you plan to kill me in this hall?” he chuckles as he takes a seat.

“I plan to make you see reason.” I study his movements which seem completely different from how this meeting started.

“Then by all means,” he raises his eyebrows gesturing with his hand for me to continue.

“You and Rhaenyra had a fight so now you sequester yourself into this ruin of a castle? To what end? Tell me your long term goal, Daemon. If I wouldn’t have arrived with a host you would still be splitting wood open, along with that bastard girls legs.” I look to him as he seems to find this amusing.

“To sit atop the Iron Throne. That is my only goal.” he hums.

“To place Rhaenyra on the throne?” I correct.

“She’s welcome to join me.” he nods his head as his thoughts seem to drift.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I don’t know if this was his plan all along or if these halls are truly haunted. We sit in silence and study each other waiting to see who will make the next move. I come up with a plan to get him outside of the castle in hopes he can clear his head and finally see his actions for what they are.

“When was the last time you’ve ridden Caraxes?” I change the subject hoping to bring him back to the present.

“It was only…” he trails off.

“Come, let’s go for ride.” I rise and look to him in question.

Surprisingly he follows me out of the hall. Ben is waiting on the other side of the door and he walks by my side. I instruct him to send a raven to Rhaenyra and say that I’m sending Daemon home and hopefully he should arrive tonight, I will escort him if needed. I also have him tell the servants to pack a small bag for Daemon for his travels home.

“Please return to me.” Ben kisses the side of my head and nods at my instructions.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

After a long flight our two dragons land in the abandoned countryside. I press my luck and dismount and turn to see that Daemon is doing the same. We meet between our two dragons as they sing a bone chilling song.

“I will go home.” he nods to me with a scrunched brow.

“You will?” I raise my eyebrow in surprise.

“Do not let that heinous woman inside your head. Don’t accept her tea.” he shakes his head as a shutter travels through him.

“Understood. Please send me a raven when you get to Dragonstone.” I reply curtly still not caring for him much at the moment.

“You’ve already sent her word of my return?” he asks over his shoulder as he begins to mount Caraxes.

“I have,” I nod my head up to him. “If you cause her trouble, I will come for you and show you why this growing host has bent its knees.” the threat is laced through my voice like a promise.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else, daughter.” he says before him and his blood worm launch into the skies.

I mount Silverwing and sigh in relief that somehow everything worked out. I hug Sliverwings neck and offer her words of love and praise before she brings us up to the clouds.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

Ben rushes to me once I dismount Silverwing and assesses me head to toe. Once he’s satisfied I’m in one piece he turns to Silverwing and walks around her and makes sure she’s taken no damage as well. He offers her soft pats before he returns to me.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers before running back through the gates.

I lay down at Silverwings feet and curl into her. She wraps her head around me protectively as she sprawls on the ground. We hear motion from beyond the gates and we both raise our heads curiously. Ben walks through the gates trailing a couple cattle behind him.

“Thank you for keeping my Princess safe, my beautiful Silverwing.” he hums as he approaches her. I rise and come to his side as she begins to chirp him a song.

He leaves the cattle with her and he guides me back through the gates and into the castle. The Lords look at me expectantly as I call a short meeting in the council chambers. I tell them of Daemons hopeful return to Dragonstone and give Ser Alfred leave to follow after him and return to my mother. The Lords look to me in awe that I was able to rein Daemon in and send him back to Dragonstone. I end the meeting with promises of a more in depth discussion on the morrow.

“Let’s go to bed,” Ben hums softly as he offers me his hand.

We quickly make it back to our chambers and he seals the doors behind us. He cups my face and pulls me into a passionate kiss. He pulls apart resting his forehead on mine as we pant as I look up to him with low lids.

“I’m perfectly fine, you didn’t have to worry so much.” I breathlessly chuckle.

“I was worried for the King Consort, the look in your eyes in the council chamber was downright murderous.” he chuckles lowly before placing a quick kiss on my lips before he starts to remove my armor.

“Good he was being daft. Someone had to stand to him.” I roll my shoulders once he removes the plates there.

“Sometimes you fucking terrify me.” he whispers though his voice is full of devotion as he removes my last pieces.

“Mm, I’m honored.” I hum as I begin to remove my layers of clothing.

“Allow me, my Princess.” he whispers as he lifts my shirt above my head.

He slowly peels the rest of my clothes off. He removes his clothes with haste while pulling me over to the bed. He falls onto his back pulling me with on top of him. He kisses me softly and pulls back with a smirk.

“I think you should sit on my face.” he says lowly.

“What do you mean?” I shake my head chuckling.

“Put this,” his fingers reach down and slide through my wetness. “on my mouth.” his eyes are dark as they look to me.

I shiver as his fingers continue to ghost over my core. He begins to slowly pull me up his body until I finally rise and kneel on the bed to look down at him. He pats the side of my thigh trying to coax me to straddle his face. I let out a shaky breath and kneel above his face and look down at his eyes under me.

“Thank you, my Princess.” he says placing a soft kiss on each of my thighs.

His hands grab my waist and pull me flush against his mouth. His tongue begins to attack my clit and my head falls back. His name falls off my lips as he continues to swirl against my clit. I grind against his face and immediately stop. He grunts at my stillness and begins to move my hips himself as moans seep out of my mouth.

“Ben,” his name is the only thing I’m capable of saying.

This spurs him on and his tongue moves even more ferociously. My hips begin jerking on their own accord and he moans against me. The vibrations send me over the edge as I come against his face as he keeps lapping at me.

“Ben,” I whimper as he still holds me against his face.

His torturous tongue continues to circle my sensitive bud sending shock waves through my body. I’m a babbling mess above him as he starts to grind my hips against him again. A sob tears through me as I come against him once more. He lifts me off and I collapse face down on the bed next to him as he chuckles.

“You did so good for me.” he hums as I feel the bed dip behind me. “Aren’t you thankful you didn’t cut my tongue out.” his hands raise my hips until I’m resting on my knees. I turn my head and scowl at him until he starts swirling his tip around my wetness.

“Ben, please,” I whine breathlessly as he leans back.

“Hm?” his tone taunting. I try to push my hips back to find him once more but his hands on my hips keep me firmly in place.

“If you don’t fuck me surely I can find someone else who-“

He slams into me and a moan tears through me. He sets a brutal pace that has my face sliding against the sheets. All I can do is arch my back more as his hips repeatedly snap into mine. His trusts become slow and deep as his hands fall to the sides of my waist as he hovers above me.

“Who do you think can replace me?” he grunts in my ear while grinding his hips into mine.

“No one,” my words barely coherent as my hips chase the pleasure he’s offering.

“That’s what I thought.” he says arrogantly as he pulls me upright with him.

One of his hands stays at my waist to help steady me as he begins to hammer up into me. The other travels around my front teasing and pinching my nipples until it finds its way to my throat. His long fingers wrap around me while his hand from my waist sneaks down to my sensitive bud.

“I- Ben,” I whine as I come, clenching around him.

“Fuck Princess,” his hips slightly falter but he regains his composure quickly.

He pushes me forward back onto the bed while staying inside of me. His pace is crazed as his fingers dig deeply into my hips. I’m pushing back into him chasing all of the pleasure he wants to give me. My hands are fisted into the sheets while all I can do is whimper and breathe his name.

“One more time for me.” he growls while bringing his torturous hand between my thighs once more.

When his fingers reach my clit I see stars. I feel like pleasure is being torn from me in waves as I bury my head in the pillow. His hips shutter and warmth spreads throughout me before he slowly pulls out. He collapses on the bed next to me as we’re both panting and trying to catch our breath.

“I know I’m safe in Harrenhal because the only thing that could make me go mad is you.” he says breathily smoothing my hair.

“Back to your ghost stories already?” I huff as I turn to him and see him smiling down at me.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist

ps: i literally will write more of this if ppl want 🫣

Part 3

#benjicot x reader #benjicot blackwood x reader #benji blackwood #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood smut #ben blackwood x reader #fancast bloody ben #bloody ben fluff #bloody ben smut #bloody ben x reader #bloody ben hotd #hotd smut #hotd fic #x reader #x reader smut #reader smut #smut #daemon targeryan

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that-sarcastic-writer · 5 months ago

Text

Mind Games (2)

Direct cntinuation to Mind games (til we lose control) (takes place before lost time)

Ben/Soldier Boy X Supe!Fem!reader

Summary: Herogasm proves to be a disaster for everyone involved, but at least you and Ben still have each other at the end of the night. Takes places during the Herogasm episode but like I did my own shit

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it mfs), p in v, shower sex (pls don't try to recreate this, SB has super strength, your man does not, you might break sum), oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, dom!Soldier Boy, praising kink, Ben calls her mean things a lot (but she likes it), choking, hair pulling, spitting, Soldier Boy cause mf is a warning on his own, typical canonical violence for this show, no use of y/n, Violet isn't her real name, just a nickname.

WC: 6.9k I'm so sorry

A/N: WHAT DID I TELL YALL MFSSS. Took me 2 years to revisit it but yk what it's fine cause every year is Soldier Boy's year. So yeah here we are. I will warn yall im not too good at writing action/fight scenes, like it made sense in my head but idk if that image translated well into the scene. I only know how to write smut im sorry. But to my Ben/Jensen girlie's, this is for you. I'll see yall in hell <3

Gif is not mine I found it on Pinterest

Universe masterlist | I no longer have a tag list so if you'd like to keep up with updates follow @midnightreadinglibrary

Fucking Herogasm. Christ, you didn't remember the last time you were here. Funny, the last time you went to a Herogasm party it was coincidentally with Ben. And it was in fact the last one you ever went to. It never felt right to go back without him.

"Fuckin' Herogasm," Butcher laughed and shook his head, glancing back at you with intrigue, "You ever been Violet?"

Your lips curled up a bit and you licked your lips slowly, glancing at Ben for a second before you found two pairs of curious eyes on you.

"Yeah, every year for like ten years." You responded, and you were met with a look of disbelief from Hughie, and even Butcher had a slight glint of surprise in his eyes. Perhaps they didn't take you as the orgy, drugs and depravity type of supe, not that you blame them, that never truly was your idea of fun. But you weren’t entirely innocent either. "I'm serious. You can ask Ben if you don't believe me."

Both men gave Ben a long glance and he laughed, shrugging at you.

"She ain’t lying, I took her to her first one, in 74' was it? Should've seen her, such a pretty doe-eyed lil’ thing, with a face like hers she fooled everyone."

"Oh, yeah, you showed innocent little me all the ropes. It was very educational." You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the small grin on your face, and Ben had one of his own.

For a moment you forgot neither of the other two men quite understood whatever was going between you and Ben, so you missed the uncomfortable look on their faces.

"Oh, I showed you a hell of a lot more than just the ropes, sweetheart."

"And I'll show you both the barrel of a gun if I have to endure another second of your trip down erotic memory lane. Can we focus here?" Butcher groaned, looking both annoyed and disturbed by your relationship, like a parent who was tired of keeping his two horny teenagers in line.

You exchanged a look with Ben, eyes big and lips pursed as you tried not to laugh and you gave him a look of having just been scolded. He simply rolled his eyes and half paid attention to Hughie and Butcher as they went back and forth about who was going in first.

You, as always, just stood there and observed, absentmindedly twirling your knife between your fingers as you listened to them agree that Hughie should go in first so you could be in and out as quickly as possible. In between your own priorities, Ben being the main one, you had almost forgotten why you were here in the first place. Despite the fact that you were picking off Payback's members one by one, you quickly realized this wasn't for you, or Ben and his plot for revenge. No, it was about Butcher getting his. And the two of you were simply there to make it happen.

You had begun to wonder if this was all there was to it, a means to an end, and in reality neither you or Ben had much of a chance to make it out this revenge mission alive. But if there was something you knew for sure, it was that you would die before you let anything happen to Ben again. Deep down, you hoped he would do the same for you.

"I'm gonna go check the area before we go in, make sure there aren't any surprises." Butcher announced after a minute or two of waiting, Hughie not being back yet. He started walking, but not before turning to glance at you both with narrowed eyes, "And you two behave, last time I left you cunts alone you broke a bathroom."

You did a mocking salute to him and snorted when he rolled his eyes at you, grumbling something you didn't quite hear as he began to walk away. He was out of your sight pretty quickly and you could already feel Ben's intense gaze burn on your face. You ignored it at first, but when he stood in front of you, eyes never leaving you, you had no choice but to look at him. You stopped your fidgeting and you looked up at him expectantly as you leaned back against a tree.

"I don't need to read your mind to know you want to tell me something, what's up?"

"What you said back at the motel, did you mean it?" He questioned, leaning close to your face as he placed a hand beside your head. You stared at him for a second, trying to dig in your mind for whatever it was that he meant. You found his green eyes and you realized.

Ah. The three fucking words.

"Seriously Ben?" You groaned, your head falling to the side with annoyance, but more of all you wanted to avoid his gaze, avoid the shame of having confessed your deepest feelings, knowing feelings wasn't something either of you ever talked about let alone ever admitted to. Because feelings meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant weakness. And weakness wasn't something either of you would ever admit to.

He grabbed your chin, grip tight as he forced you to look at him, "Did you? ‘Cause I meant what I said, all of it."

Your face softened and your lips slightly curved into a tiny smile. You never wanted to search his mind without his permission, it was like a line you never liked to cross, but you didn't need to this time. Just by looking into his eyes you always knew. You could tell a lot by looking into someone’s eyes. You searched his eyes for any kind of deceit or even manipulation, but you didn't find any. You knew what he meant, and coming from him, it meant everything.

"Yeah," You sighed softly, "I meant what I said."

"Good." His pink lips curved into a satisfied smirk as he squeezed your face and leaned down, capturing your lips into his own. It was slower, no rushed and desperate touches like before, but he still kissed you hard. There was nothing gentle about it, but was there ever anything gentle about him?

His tongue slipped into your mouth as he dropped his hand, resting it on the column of your neck. He pressed his armored chest against yours, pretty much pinning you against the tree. His mouth was so skilled, like he knew exactly how to take your breath away in seconds, he knew you that well. You would never allow a man to have this much control over you. But it was always different with him. Your hands found his long strands as you explored his mouth, and you pulled hard. You felt him groan against your mouth and he squeezed your neck in response. You gasped, the sound quickly fading into a soft moan. He pulled back and watched with amusement the look of pure ecstasy on your face as he squeezed your throat.

"You fucking slut, you still get off to me hurting you, don't you?" He bit his lip as he released your throat, thumb brushing over the skin he knew would bruise, just like everybody else's, even if it was for a little bit.

You inhaled deeply, the short lack of airflow making you dizzy, but in the most delicious way possible. You opened your eyes, finding his green ones and god you wished nothing but to just ditch the mission and go somewhere where he could take you, over and over again.

"Are we here to get revenge or are we here to get your dick wet? ‘Cause I'm getting some real mixed signals here." You mumbled, breath heavy and he chuckled. He leaned down, pressing his lips to your jaw before he moved them to your ear.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard I'm gonna break a hell of a lot more than just a mirror." He coaxed. The way he spoke in your ear made you rub your thighs together and the pool forming in your panties was impossible to ignore. It was embarrassing how quickly he could pull you apart and do with you what he pleased. "When we get back. Now pull yourself together, we're on a mission."

And just like that he was standing a few feet away from you. He was looking behind his shoulder, almost as if he could hear someone. And of course, just in time for you to somewhat regain your composure, Butcher came back. Though it wasn't before you locked eyes with Ben one more time as you tried to control your breathing, and the cocky bastard winked at you, lips curled into a shit eating grin before Butcher actually approached you both.

This motherfucker.

"All clear. The twins are in there. You shouldn't have a problem going in," He said to Ben, but then looked at you, "You, though, you might get some attention. Pretty girl, dressed in black leather and strapped with knives, that's some BDSM shit if I've seen one."

"Okay and?" You frowned, now standing by both men.

"Just stay close to him, people might recognize you and approach you. Do what you can to keep a low profile. You might have to get your hands a bit dirty." He looked between you and Ben. You stared at him with a small frown at first, but when he raised his eyebrows at you, you quickly realized what he meant.

"Wouldn't be the first time." Ben commented with a chuckle when he caught on. You looked at him, slightly unimpressed by his lack of discretion but you simply rolled your eyes.

Butcher sighed heavily, clearly done with your antics by then and he simply motioned you off with an unimpressed expression, "Off you go, ya dirty cunts."

"Looks like you might get your dick wet after all." You commented to Ben as you both headed off to the house.

He chuckled, shooting you a glance as you stood in front of the door. You were both eager to get this over with, you more than him. It was one thing for him to be able to face the assholes that betrayed him, and you were happy to do it with him. But the idea of being around dozens of supes, in an environment where there were no rules, no respect and no boundaries, made you uneasy. You didn't know if you could handle that many voices all at once. It had been a long time since you had been around other Supes, let alone that many, and you had made that decision for a reason.

Almost as if he could feel the anxiety radiate from you, you felt a large hand fill your own. Confused, you looked down and saw he had intertwined his fingers with your own. "There's nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart, it wouldn't be the first time we do this."

"I haven't been around other supes since…" You inhaled deeply, your throat slightly closing up at the memory. The last time you stepped foot at Vought Tower, when you realized you couldn't do it anymore. Ben looked at you, eyebrows slightly knitted into a frown, "It's been a long time is all."

"Just stay by my side, nobody will lay a hand on you. I'll always protect you, remember?" He gave your hand a slight squeeze and the calm yet assertive ring in his voice made you feel almost at ease. Almost.

You stayed silent, needing all your energy and focus to keep the dozens of voices beginning to infiltrate your mind one by one. The sound of Ben speaking as a very naked man opened the door sounded far, distant, you didn't catch much of what they said. You only knew to move when you felt Ben tug you along. Now the sound of your racing heart was almost as loud as the voices. So fucking many people here. So many Supes. So many voices. All at once. It was deafening. It disgusted you, to have to hear every passing thought these depraved beings had. You didn’t realize you started digging your blunt nails into Ben’s gloves.

It didn’t hurt, but your enhanced strength definitely made him feel the tightening grip of your shaking hands. He stopped and looked at you with a twisted frown.

“The fuck is wrong with you now? You look like you saw your father.”

You eyes snapped up to find him looking back at you with both confusion, and his version of concern. You opened your mouth but you could only stammer but no words actually came out. You couldn’t think. It was so loud. Your lip quivered ever so slightly as you felt your chest start to grow heavy. Ben saw the look on your face, the way your eyes were frantically looking around the room, your jaw wound up so tight he thought you’d break it. The last time he saw you like this was when you first joined Payback and didn’t have full control of your abilities.

“Stop that, right now.” He gripped your shoulders hard, really fucking hard, enough to make you shift your focus on him for a moment. You looked at him with wide eyes. “Hey, I need you to focus. Get your head under control. I need you to have my back here, okay?”

“I… I don’t.. I can’t get them to stop. They won’t stop.” You said, so close to being on the verge of tears. “There’s so many, I can’t get them to shut the fuck up. I--”

“Hey,” He shook you ever so slightly, leaning in close to your face. “The fuck did I just say? Get. yourself. Together. You used to tune ‘em out, remember? So tune them out.”

You breathed in, your chest rising as you tried to drown out the noise, focus on his face, on his voice. But you couldn’t. You hadn’t been around this many people in nearly a decade.

“I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t be here. I’m sorry.” You shook your head frantically and tried to slip out of his grip but he didn’t let you.

“I need you here. Just—hey,” he grabbed your jaw, looking out of the corner of his eyes to make sure you weren’t bringing in too much attention before he met your teary eyes. “Just look at me. I’m right here. Remember you used to tune everyone else out and only focus on my voice, hm? Focus on my thoughts, okay? It’s just you and me, fuck everyone else.”

You stared at him, the green in his eyes seeming more and more green the longer you looked. You even saw a ring yellow in there. His voice. His thoughts, they had always calmed you, centered you. The voices grew more and more distant the longer you looked at him. You listened to his voice as his thoughts became your own. Until only the sound of his voice was in your head. Your breath was shaky as you closed your eyes, a laugh of relief leaving your lips.

He held your face for a little longer, his deep frown less harsh as he watched your face slowly visibly relax and the tension left your body.

“Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” You exhaled deeply and nodded at him, feeling like you were slowly regaining control of yourself. “Let’s go find the terror twins.”

You walked around this house for what felt like hours. But it didn’t help that you were being stopped every five minutes by every naked Supe you walked by. Ben was anything but amused.

“I swear to fucking Christ if one more of these slimy jizz-covered fuck faces asks you to use your knives on them I will actually shove my shield up their ass.” Ben grumbled with a look of disgust on his face.

“They’d probably like that.” You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing at the death glare he shot you.

“Eat shit.” You actually snorted this time, and you were full on giggling when he started mumbling curses at you as he walked off.

You ultimately decided splitting up was probably the way to go, the house was way too big and had too many rooms, you’d find the twins quicker if you each went your own way. Ben was reluctant at first, a bit apprehensive to leave you on your own after you almost broke down earlier. But you reassured him you were fine and perfectly capable of going on your own. You ultimately realized you made the right choice. You didn’t know exactly when or how but out of nowhere you heard a loud blast in the next room and you were launched right through a wall from the blast. Pain immediately started shooting through your body at the impact. You were a Supe, sure, but you weren’t Soldier Boy, you weren’t fucking invincible. You bled and you felt pain like any human.

It took you a good minute to understand what the actual fuck had just happened. And when you did, you almost forgot about the throbbing pain going through your body. You pushed yourself up to your feet, stumbling and holding on to walls as you dragged yourself through the rubble and burned bodies. Your jaw slightly fell open at the sight of this much mayhem. You didn’t believe in God, but fuck were you praying to a higher power for Ben to be okay.

You managed to stay on your feet despite the pain. It would go away eventually, in a day or so, but the first few hours were brutal. Still you pushed through, determined to find Ben. You stumbled into a hallway, the walls were falling apart and chunks of cement were all around the floor. But what caught your attention was the sight that fucking American flag and blonde head of hair you had grown to despise. Your heart stopped, you were frozen. You held your breath as you realized fucking Homelander was here. And he currently had Ben pinned to a wall.

This was such a bad fucking idea. You could die a very agonizing death. A bad idea indeed.

Adrenaline kicked in, you sprinted and with a bit of momentum you landed on Homelander’s shoulders. You were surprised he didn’t hear you coming.You were thankful he was preoccupied with Ben. Your nails dug into the side of his temples and you used all of the energy and power you had coursing through your veins, and sent that straight to his brain.

You weren’t sure if it would even tickle. You tried using your shock powers on Ben once, a long time ago, just to test out how it worked on Supes with enhanced strength, he said it felt like being electrocuted. And right about now you were praying Homelander felt something, enough to stun him at least. You could kill an average Supe if you used enough power, but you weren’t so sure if you were strong enough.

You held on, but you were struggling, commanding your body to release this much energy was mentally exhausting but the sound of Homelander groaning in pain made you smile the slightest bit. The shocks of electricity weren’t going to kill him, but it sure did hurt, and it stunned him. Nobody’s brain was invisible afterall.

“Hurts, doesn’t it motherfucker? Your body may be indestructible but your mind can only take so much before it breaks.” You spat. Sparks were coming from your fingers as your eyes flashed bright purple. “It’s fucked when its you being held down against your will, huh?”

He screamed, stumbling around as he attempted to grab at you, but this wasn’t the first time you tried to fry someone’s brain off while on their shoulders. You gasped when you saw his laser eyes go off as he screamed, leaving indents on the wall. This split second of distraction was enough to make your focus falter, and it gave Homelander the opportunity to find a grip on you. You cried in pain when he grabbed your ankle and tossed you off.

You landed fucking hard, it knocked the air right out of your lungs. You coughed as you attempted to get up, but Homelander was grabbing you and pulling you up by your neck before you could blink. He held you up in the air as he levitated so you couldn’t find a way to escape. He held you at arm’s length so you couldn’t reach him, either. The way his empty, ice cold eyes stared you down with evil glee as you gasped for air was terrifying.

“I always knew you were a fucking bitch. I should’ve killed you when I had the chance. Matter of fact, I’ll do that right now.” Your eyes widened when his eyes gleamed bright red.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Ben behind Homelander, with a grin as he grabbed Homelander’s cape and pulled down, and he pulled really fucking hard. Your body collided with the ground roughly, landing on your side with a pained cry. But you still saw Ben throw Homelander around by his cape, and had you not been mere seconds away from death, you would have laughed at the comedic irony. You were in and out of consciousness, an aura surrounding your vision. But in between your delirium you could see Butcher and Hughie had arrived, and the three of them were taking on Homelander. It wasn’t long before the three of them had Homelander pinned down. You could feel yourself fade, your muscles give out and your mind shut off. You hadn’t used that much power since you were in Payback.

You heard indistinct voices and shouting before everything went black.

“The fuck are you waitin’ for? Blast this cunt!” Butcher shouted and Ben grunted.

“I can’t! Just—Fuck.” His eyes found you in the corner, bloodied and passed out. You couldn’t run away and you wouldn’t survive the blast, he knew that. “You—kid, take her, and get out here. Now!”

“No fucking way!” Hughie shouted back, and Ben felt the urge to blast him instead.

“Do what he says, take the fuckin’ girl and go!” Butcher shouted at Hughie, catching on to what Ben was trying to do. But before any of them could do anything, Homelander blasted his lasers, screaming as he overpowered the three of them while they were distracted. And just like that he was gone.

The three men sat in silence, in defeat. They had a chance and they blew it. Ben knew it was mostly his fault, he shouldn’t have hesitated. But he refused to ever let you get hurt. In silent anger he glared at both of them and he stood and walked over to your passed out body. He clenched his jaw as he picked your limp body and carried you. He made eye contact with Butcher and Hughie and it took all of his power not to shoot both of them in the face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your whole body ached, and your head was founding. It was unbearable. You winced in pain as you began to peel layers of clothes off your body. God it fucking hurt. You closed your eyes as you attempted to hold back tears, only snapping back into reality when you felt Ben trace his fingers over your back. He noted every bruise and every cut. He knew they would heal, sure but it still made him seethe with anger.

“What the fuck were you thinkin’, taking on Homelander like that? Did all the fucking pills you take for your psychosis fry all of your neurons or what?” He was so angry, and he never was exactly kind with his words. You always knew that, but it still hurt when he talked to you that way, especially when you had only been trying to help him.

Your back was turned to him, so he couldn't see the hurt frown on your face but he did notice you huff at him and move away from his touch, refusing to look at him.

“Okay.. Hey, no. I didn’t.. I didn’t mean it like that. Fuck.” He bit his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut with regret of his choice of words. You kept your back to him as you continued to undress. He groaned. “You would have died. And it would have been on me. I couldn’t live with that, is all.”

“Well, I was passed out so it would have been a quick death, if that's of any consolation to you.” You answered shortly as you stripped down to your underwear. You don't think he understood that you stopped caring whether you lived or died a long time ago.

“Okay, could you not be a bitch for two seconds?” He sighed, already annoyed by your attitude.

“No. If you want a girl who doesn't talk back to you, go find Countess. Oh, wait, you can't ‘cause she sold you to the Russians. Guess you're stuck with me.” You answered with even more spitefulness, just to tick him off a little bit more. You didn't need to read his mind to know he was beyond pissed. You weren't exactly in a colorful mood, either. Your back was still turned to him as you tossed your bloodied gear in a corner.

He breathed in deeply, pitching the bridge of his nose, “Violet, look at me when I'm talking to you.”

You turned around with exasperation, your eyes open wide with a ‘what’ expression as you motioned your hands around passive-aggressively.

“I didn't mean what I said. I know you were trying to help me… And I know that you can't always control your powers. I sometimes can't deal with my own head, I can't imagine having to deal with everybody else's.” Ben wasn't one to apologize. He was actually allergic to the words I'm sorry. You knew that. But you knew he at least tried to apologize using other words. So you listened. You knew he was having a hard time, too. “But I'm not really one to talk. I think I'm the one that's fucked in the head.”

Your lips slightly parted at his words and you looked at him with a tiny bit of sadness. You never asked him details of what happened to him. Sure, you could look, but you never wanted to dig through his mind without his permission. He'd tell you if he really wanted to. But you didn't need to know everything to understand that what he went through messed him up. And it messed him up a lot. What happened at Herogasm was proof of that.

“Do you want to tell me what happened at Herogasm? Don't make me look through your head, I don't want to.” You sighed softly, ultimately giving in, like you always did. Your delicate fingers dragged over his vest as you absentmindedly began to take off his gear.

Ben stayed silent for a long time. He didn't think he even knew what happened. You were down to the last layer of the top part of his suit by the time he opened his mouth.

“I blacked out. I don't.. I don't know what the fuck happened. I was talking to the fuck twins and then nothing. Next thing I remember is the burned bodies and the place was all fucked up.” He breathed out a little unevenly, a frown knitted deep on his face. He looked down at you when you stayed silent. “I didn't mean to. You believe that, right?”

You did. But did he?

“Of course I believe you.” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, hands flat on his chest. He brought one of his hands to the back of your hair, holding your head in place. After a few seconds, you hummed, parting your lips slightly. “Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded.

“Why didn't you kill Homelander? You had a shot. Why didn't you take it? You would have done the whole fucking world a favor.”

Ben stared at you with confusion. Did you really not get it? Were you that clueless or was he just that bad at showing his devotion for you? Probably the latter.

“You saw what my blast did to the house. You wouldn't have survived that. I should have, I know, Butcher won't stop fucking reminding me. But he has nothing left to lose. Can't kill two girlfriends in the same week, y'know?”

Your mouth fell open with indignation and you shoved at his chest, but deep down you felt warm at the fact that he chose you over his mission, for once. You still pretended to be angry at him, though. “Fucking prick.”

He brought his lips to your jaw, leaving blunt kisses and you pretend to hate it. But the smile on your face was inevitable.

“Wanna shower now or what?” He eventually said. That was the reason you were in the bathroom after all.

You nodded. You could use the hot water on your bruised skin. You finished stripping, Ben just watched you with a perverted grin and smacked your ass before he stripped himself.

He got in first, turning on the water and letting it run until steam began to fill the small space. He knew you liked it boiling hot. He didn't mind. You got in and immediately went under the shower head. You moaned in relief, the hot water running down your tense muscles, alleviating the soreness on your body. Ben watched you with a surprising amount of patience as he stood behind you. He leaned down and pressed his soft lips behind your neck, licking along the skin before he moved down your neck to your shoulder. He rested his hands on your hips, squeezing the skin as lightly as he could. You had enough bruises for one day.

“I'm gonna take care of you tonight, m’kay?” He mumbled against your skin before he made you turn around.

He crashed his lips against yours, rough fingers gripping your jaw as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You whined, already craving more. When he kissed you like this, you just couldn't help yourself.

“Need you, please.” You were breathless against his lips, your blunt nails digging into his chest desperately. He gave your bottom lip a small tug as he pulled away.

He made you stand in front of him, his back to the shower wall as he slowly sank to his knees. Your eyes followed him longingly.

“C'mere.” He pulled you towards him, his eyes were full of greed as he made eye contact with you while he directed you to rest one of your feet on his shoulder.

His eyes stayed locked with yours as leaned forward and licked a long stripe from your hole up to your clit. He wrapped his lips around the bud and sucked. You gasped, instantly pressing your hand against the damp wall to keep yourself up. Your mouth fell open in delight as he dragged his tongue around your sensitive clit.

“O-Oh. Shit. Shit, Ben.” You whined softly, your free hand falling to his wet hair. He held your hip with one hand, steady vice grip holding you in place as he pushed his tongue into your hole. You swore the cry you let out was heard in the entire apartment. “Oh, my God. Fuck. That feels so good.”

Ben hummed in approval as you wrapped your fingers around his hair and held his face against you. As if he would go anywhere. He happily kept his mouth on you, head moving up and down as he worked you with his tongue, his nose brushing your clit with every movement of his head. To say that you were so close was an understatement. You could feel your leg start to give out under you the longer you felt that heat build in your stomach. Ben was more than happy to assist you with that, too. His free hand grabbed the underside of your thigh and forced you further against his mouth until your leg was dangling over his shoulder. His other hand stayed on your hip, vice grip holding you upright effortlessly.

His tongue found your clit one more time, and the emptiness it left was replaced by two long fingers pushing into your cunt. Your eyes rolled back as your mouth fell open in a silent cry. You leaned your forehead against the tile as you dug your nails into his scalp. Fuck, you didn't remember the last time a man ate you out, let alone ate you out like this. It felt so good you wanted to cry, you didn't even remember the pain in your body, all you could feel was pleasure.

“Feels good, doesn't it sweetheart?” He spat into your clit as he fucked you with his fingers. If the shower hadn't been running the lewd sound of his fingers dragging in and out of your wet hole would've been so loud. But he could still hear it, and fuck did he love it. He took a second to look up at you. Such a pretty little thing when you were so close. “Oh, you wanna come don't you? Mhmm, yeah, you do. C'mon, gimme what I want. I know you can do it.”

His tongue was back on your clit, he licked harsh stripes as he slipped his thick fingers in and out of your cunt with urgency. The sounds of him licking and sucking on your clit were almost as filthy as the sounds coming out of your mouth. His fingers fucked you without mercy, there was not a single thing gentle about his touch. It was rough and relentless. Just like he was. And it had you seeing fucking white before you even realized.

You squeezed your eyes shut, lips parting in a silent cry as you held his face against you. But it wasn't like he'd go anywhere, if anything he kept his tongue on your swollen clit and his fingers never stopped. Tears formed in your eyes as your thighs shuddered. And when he didn't stop you were pulling at the ends of his hair to pull him off you. He groaned at this. Quite unhappy to be leaving the warm place between your thighs.

“I wasn't done.” He looked up at you with a frown. You took in a deep breath, blowing out a small laugh as you grabbed at his face, weakly attempting to pull him back up.

“You can be down there all you want later, I just..” You swallowed hard, somewhat regaining your composure as he stood up to his full height. You pulled him down by his face and kissed him, and you kissed him fucking hard. And the taste of yourself still left on his tongue made you need him even more. “Just need you, okay?”

“Need me where?” He grabbed your jaw, fingers sprawled out over your throat as he held your face back. He stared you down, malicious eyes full of greed as he waited for your answer. And he wouldn't give you anything until you did.

“Inside me.” You muttered through gritted teeth, almost delirious as you rubbed your thighs together with anticipation. He didn't look satisfied. You breathed in deeply, the aching need between your legs unbearable. “Need your cock, inside me, right now, Ben.”

He lifted his eyebrows up in satisfaction and gave you a simple hum before he switched positions with you, without a word pressing your front against the shower wall.

“I fuck you once and you're already acting like a pathetic whore? Okay. But you better fucking take my cock like the good fuck doll you've always been, hm?” He kicked your legs apart with his knee, his back pressing you further into the wall as he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance. You took a deep breath. “Yeah, you're gonna take this cock like a good lil’ fuck doll.”

You gasped when he pushed himself inside with a snap of his hips, but it quickly turned into a moan when he pushed himself to the hilt, hips rutting against your ass. You dug your nails into nothing as you closed your eyes, taking in the delicious feeling of his thick cock stretching your walls.

“What a tight fucking cunt.” He grunted, gripping your hips, not wasting any time. He barely gave you time to adjust. “So fucking wet. Just for me, huh?”

You were nodding against the wall instantly, pushing your ass back against him as he fucked you without mercy. You felt his lips on your shoulder as he leaned over you. The lewd sound of slapping skin was drowned out by the shower running but you could hear it clear as fucking day.

“Yes! Mhmm feels so good.” You moaned softly, mindlessly reaching behind you to touch him, any part of him. Your fingers found his beard as you ran your hand over his face desperate to feel him, then you found his hair, and you latched on for dear life as he drilled into you.

“Yeah? Like how my cock feels in your guts? You missed it, didn't you?” He pressed the side of his face into your head, allowing himself to close his eyes and soak the feeling of your nails on his scalp, he could even feel the faintest bit of electricity shooting through your fingers. He fucking loved it.

“Yes! God yes.” You couldn't even describe how much.

Ben smirked at this as he wrapped his arm over your chest and his fingers found your throat. He forced your head back, making you look at him.

“Open your mouth,” He ordered, he held his finger to your pulse as he felt the fast rate of your heartbeat. You did as he said, and with a huff he spat in your mouth. “Slut. Swallow it.”

How he could so easily break you down to nothing and treat you like no other man could, truly was beyond your understanding. But your mind didn't have to understand it. Your body just did it. You felt a pool of wetness seep through you at the damn near animalistic groan that rumbled in his throat.

“You're such a good fucking girl.” He spat, pressing his lips against yours in a messy filthy kiss. You could barely keep your mouth open, not with the way he was so determined to make you fall apart for him. “You're my good fucking girl.”

“I want to come. Please I—fuck.” Your words were broken as your whole body burned up, and it wasn't from the hot water.

“Of course, you do. It just feels so good, doesn't it?” He squeezed your throat harder, only choked out sounds could leave your mouth as he slipped his other hand to your swollen clit and rubbed harsh circles.

Your orgasm hit you so hard you didn't realize it until you were shaking violently, your eyes rolled back into your head as you fucked yourself on his cock. Not that he ever stopped. He moaned loudly at the feeling of your wetness seeping on him. The wet sound of his cock slapping against your cunt made him want to come, too.

“Fuck. Fucking Christ Violet. C'mon, make me come. Fuck yourself on my cock just like that. Be a good fuck doll for me, that's it.” His hand left your throat to pull at your hair. He dug his fingers deep into your scalp as his face fell on your shoulder. With a deep grunt he held you down on him. “Fucking take it, that's it, girl. Just like that. Fuck.”

You could feel your mixed releases slip down your thigh. You sighed deeply, allowing yourself to close your eyes in ecstasy as he pressed his lips to your jaw. You hummed softly, reaching behind you to run your fingers through your hair.

“I never want to leave this cunt. Feels so fucking good.” He muttered against your skin.

You laughed softly, eyes still closed, you breathed heavily, “You're gonna have to eventually.”

“Like fuck I am.”

Both of his hands were on your hips and he turned you around. You whimpered softly at the emptiness he left you, but it was quickly replaced by choked out gasp when he grabbed both of your thighs and effortlessly hoisted you up around his waist. Your back was pressed against the tile wall and he slipped his cock inside you without a warning.

“Ben—”

“You wanted my cock inside you? Well you better fucking take all of it. Every fucking inch ‘til I say so. You want it, don't you?” He spat, already fucking into you like you were nothing more than a toy. He held you up by your thighs as he kept them wide open so he could take as much as he wanted. And that he did. “Of course you do, this cunt is all mine to with as I fucking want. That ain't never gonna change.”

What a long fucking night you were going to have. But you'd take a million of this over another day without him in your life. And this? This was all you ever wanted. You didn't need anything else, just him.

#soldier boy smut #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x super reader #soldier boy #the boys #mind games

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sadnymi · 8 months ago

Text

「 ✦ cloud nine p2.✦ 」

Mattheo riddle × reader [part1]

Summary: The "jinx girl," as they call her, is said to bring bad luck. However, when Mattheo Riddle decides to get to know the school's most neglected girl and takes matters into his own hands, Y/N's life is turned upside down in a mere night.

Warnings:angst, smut, fluff

Words: 13.5k

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

[ A Cry for Help (and Hippogriffs)]

Dear Uncle Ben ,

Consider this my official "You were absolutely right (but with way more heartbreak)" letter. Remember all those warnings you showered me with before I left for Hogwarts? Werewolves, Dementors, rogue Gillyweed incidents (honestly, who even uses that stuff anymore?) You covered the whole spectrum of nightmarish magical creatures. But why, oh why, did you neglect to warn me about charming Slytherins with a really really pretty smiles and the ability to shatter hearts ?

Yes, Uncle Ben, your favorite niece (and, let's be honest, only niece) has officially fallen from cloud nine and landed face-first in a puddle of disappointment. Remember Mattheo Riddle? The one with the eyes like melted chocolate and a smile that could disarm a grumpy Hippogriff? Turns out….well, you get the picture. My heart is in as many pieces as a poorly repaired Floo Network."

So, here's the thing, Uncle Ben . **I'm done. Hogwarts can keep its feasts, its Quidditch matches, and its overly enthusiastic Potions lessons.** I wouldn't be caught dead on the Hogwarts Express, and frankly, the Burrow isn't exactly calling my name right now either.

This is where you come in, my valiant (and hopefully broomstick-wielding) savior. **I need an extraction, Uncle Ben . A daring rescue. A grand exit that would make even Dumbledore raise an eyebrow.** Floo powder me out? Sneak me aboard a disguised Thestral? Honestly, at this point, I'd even settle for a well-timed Hippogriff stampede (though maybe not – those beaks look awfully sharp).

So please uncle Ben As soon as this letter reaches your extraordinary hands, pack your Niffler leash, your Newt-approved travel kettle, and anything else that might help

Your distraught (and slightly heartbroken) niece,

Y/N

P.S. Please bring some Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans. Maybe a chocolate frog or two wouldn't hurt either.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

After folding the letter with care, I sealed it using a wax stamp adorned with a grumpy-looking Kneazle, a delightful creation from a talented first-year Hufflepuff. Placing it inside an owl-sized envelope addressed to "Benjamin Scamander, Ministry of Magical Creatures, Department for Beast Regulation and Control," I sent it off with a silent prayer for a speedy rescue.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Y/N

Consider it done. Talon wasn't thrilled about the Beans (apparently, they don't quite mesh with his sophisticated palate), but the chocolate frogs seemed to appease him. Be ready by nightfall. We'll have a proper family reunion, Hippogriff style.

P.S. Don't worry about any "Hippogriff stampedes." Talon's surprisingly well-mannered (for the most part).

Love,

Uncle Ben

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

After two blissful days away from Hogwarts at Uncle Ben's cozy cottage in the Welsh hills, I woke up to find him bustling about the room. Despite the comfort and serenity of our time together, I couldn't shake off the tears that stained his (probably very expensive) linens.

He lumbered in, a steaming mug clutched in his hand, followed by a bewildered-looking Billywig (apparently, they weren't exactly known for their graceful exits).

"Here," he said kindly, placing the mug on the bedside table. "Peppermint tea. Guaranteed to cure a broken heart… or at least numb it a bit."

I took a shaky sip, the warmth spreading through me like a gentle hug. Uncle Ben perched on the edge of the bed, concern evident in his gaze that battled with his usual amusement.

"Alright, spill it," he finally said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "What's got you blubbering like a Bowtruckle caught in a rainstorm?"

I choked on a sob, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. "It's just… everything. Mattheo… the rumors… the whole thing feels so stupid."

"Stupid? Sweetheart, this is practically a textbook case of teenage wizarding drama!," Uncle Ben said with a chuckle.

"First, the rumors. Turns out Charlie Spinnet, fancies you and that by the way explains the sudden change in cologne and his haircut whenever he visits. But then instead of acting like a normal human being, he decided to spread those ridiculous stories about you being a jinx?"

I nodded, sniffling. "And then there's Riddle Jr.," Uncle Ben continued, his voice laced with a hint of disapproval. "Used you for a dare? Honestly, these Slytherins – where's the chivalry gone? Back in my day, we at least serenaded our crushes with a well-timed love potion, not a staged play."

"I know right? !" I cried, wiping away fresh tears, he come closer pulling me into a warm hug.

When the last tear finally dried, a heavy silence settled between us. My eyelids drooped, exhaustion pulling me under. "Uncle Ben," I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep, "Can I… can I leave Hogwarts?"

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "Is that what you want, Y/N?"

"I don't… I don't want to see him, or them, or…" My voice trailed off, the thought of facing whispers and pitying glances unbearable.

He squeezed my hand gently. "There are other schools, Y/N. Places where you can learn, grow, and maybe even find someone who truly appreciates you."

A flicker of hope sparked within me. A fresh start? A chance to heal away from the prying eyes and judgmental whispers? "Do you think… could I transfer… maybe to Beauxbatons?"

Uncle Ben chuckled. "Beauxbatons? Now that's an interesting choice. But hey, if you fancy learning with a bunch of wand-waving fashionistas, who am I to say no?"

The crisp Welsh air whipped through my hair as I sat on the porch swing, watching the sun set over the rolling hills. Uncle Ben's cottage, nestled amongst ancient oaks, seemed even cozier with the warm, orange light bathing its stone walls.

Thankfully, he'd managed to smooth things over with my parents, convincing them it would be perfect for me to stay with him until I figured out what to do about school.

Weeks melted into each other, and a unsettling undercurrent began to ripple through the otherwise idyllic setting. Every boy who showed even a flicker of interest in me or mustered the courage to ask me out –vanished after our initial encounter. Poof. Gone.

Only to reappear the next day, looking sheepish and pale, with mumbled apologies for missing our planned date . "something came up" or a sudden "family emergency."

kind, awkward Liam, sporty William , even that quiet bookworm Ethan – they all faced the same fate , a freckled boy named Callum, practically leaped over a nearby toadstool with a yelp, his face blanching as if he'd seen a ghost. It was as though the sight of the bumpy amphibian unearthed a buried terror within him.

And it’s seems like anyone who would show any interest in me will face the same fate

Case in point: a particular book I had discussed with a boy who worked at the library and had also asked me out for a date. The next day, that very book was on uncle Ben leaving room the next day and I knew for sure that uncle Ben wasn’t the one who did that .

Curiosity piqued, I went to the library to inquire about the book's whereabouts, only to find the boy in a state of sheer terror. He avoided eye contact and stammered out a nervous apology, his fear palpable in the way he trembled. It was as if he had encountered something terrifying, something that left him traumatized overnight. Unsettled by the encounter, I sought help from another library assistant to locate the book I wanted. This time, the assistant was more than eager to assist, his eyes darting around nervously as if expecting something unexpected to happen again.

Weeks dragged by, each day a monotonous echo of the last.

As I wake up today a tear slipped down my cheek, tracing a warm path through the cool morning air. I cursed myself under my breath, blinking furiously to clear my vision. There it was again, the lingering echo of his touch, the warmth of his smile, all remnants of a cruel dream.

Damn it. I cursed myself under my breath, throwing the covers back with a huff. How dare I miss him? How dare my traitorous subconscious paint him in a loving light after everything? The betrayal, the lies, they were all still raw, a constant reminder of his deceit.

Feeling the need for some solace and quiet reflection, I decided to head to the library

The usually a comforting haven, was eerily silent. A prickle of unease crawled up my spine. Did the boy who worked here quit ? Thanks a lot, Mattheo.

Pushing open the library doors, I was greeted by an unsettling emptiness. Pushing the thought aside, I navigated the towering bookshelves, half expecting some kind of magical mishap – maybe a rogue pixie infestation? With a spine-tingling creak. An unsettling feeling wormed its way into my stomach. Surely Johnny, the cute boy who worked here, wouldn't leave the entire library unattended?

"Hello, Johnny?" I called out, my voice echoing eerily in the vast space. No answer. Great. Just fantastic.

Shrugging it off, I ventured deeper into the labyrinth of bookshelves. The silence pressed in on me, broken only by the soft pad of my footsteps. Halfway expecting a rogue Acromantula to drop from the ceiling or a mischievous pixie to trip me with a strategically placed shoelace, I navigated the towering stacks.

Suddenly, a loud creak pierced the silence. My heart lurched, and I spun around, wand instinctively halfway out of my pocket. The heavy library door swung shut with an ominous finality. For a moment, I stood frozen, every nerve on high alert. Was I alone?

and there he was ... His usual playful smirk was replaced by a furrowed brow and a flicker of something… hurt? Regret? It was a confusing cocktail that sent my carefully constructed facade teetering on the edge of collapse.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, threatening to burst from my chest. My carefully crafted mask of indifference felt like it was cracking under the sheer force of seeing him.

the silence of the library seemed deafening, amplifying the chaotic symphony playing out inside me.

I plastered a smile on my face, hoping it came across as confident and not the terrified mess I truly felt. This was ridiculous. He was the one who lied and betrayed me, not the other way around. Yet, here I was, feeling like I was the one on trial.

"Dramatic much?" I spat, my voice laced with venom. "So what's the deal now, Riddle? Bored with your little toad transformation hobby? Decided to haunt the library instead?"

He gave me a slow once-over, his gaze lingering a beat too long. It sent a shiver down my spine, a confusing mix of anger and a vulnerability I desperately tried to suppress.

Folding my arms, I tried to project an air of annoyance. "Look, Riddle," I said, forcing a harsher tone than I felt. "Let's cut to the chase. Open the door and disappear."

As he took a tentative step towards me, the carefully constructed wall around my emotions started to crumble. His eyes held a depth of emotion I couldn't decipher – hurt? Regret? It was a confusing mix that threatened to unravel me.

"You never mentioned you were a Scamander," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. The sound of it after all this time, even laced with the echoes of past pain, was a punch to the gut.

-well technically I was from my mother side but i never dared to say that to anyone afraid to bring shame to the family name , because I never felt like I deserved to.

Tears pricked at the back of my eyelids, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "And you," I choked out, the words raw with hurt, "never mentioned being fucking liar . Seems like we're even, wouldn't you agree?"

he started to speak. "I know you don’t want to listen—"

Frustration bubbled over before he could finish his sentence. "Why are you even here, Riddle?" I snapped. "You know I don't want to hear your excuses."

His gaze held mine, unwavering despite the storm brewing in my own eyes.

"Stop staring at me like that!" I hissed, the vulnerability I desperately tried to hide threatening to spill over.

Desperate to break the tension, I lunged for the door, yanking on the handle. Panic surged as it remained stubbornly shut. "What's wrong with this stupid door?" I yelled, "We can't use magic outside Hogwarts!" I exclaimed, bewildered. "Did you do something to the door?" Kicking it with my foot in frustration.

Spinning back to face him, my voice trembled with a mix of fury and fear. "What did you do to those boys, Mattheo? Turned them into toads?"

A smirk played on his lips, a sight that only intensified my urge to lash out. "Not all of them," he countered, his voice laced with a hint of something… jealousy? "Why? Do you care about them?"

“Apparently I did “I challenged, my voice laced with a bitterness I couldn't hide, "That's why I agreed to go out with them in the first place."

His smugness evaporated, replaced by a desperate plea that sent a shiver down my spine. "Don't go to Beauxbatons, love," he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper, laced with such raw emotion it threatened to crack the dam of my anger ,considering his impressive stalking skills I wasn’t surprised he knew about that ..

"Don't call me that, Riddle," I choked out, squeezing my eyes shut to hold back the traitorous tears that welled up. When I opened them again, the sight that greeted me was my breaking point.

Hurt, confusion, and a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like longing swirled in his eyes. "Why - why did you keep calling me that? Why not say my name?" he asked, his voice thick with a pain that mirrored my own.

"It's just Riddle for me now ," I said, my voice cold, a desperate attempt to shield myself from the storm of emotions brewing within me.

"Please," he whispered, the word hanging heavy in the air. "Please don't go to Beauxbatons."

"Get out of my way," I snapped, my voice laced with a venom I barely recognized. "I won't say it again."

He took a hesitant step forward, his eyes pleading. "I'm not above begging," he said, his voice low and urgent. "I'll do anything you ask. You say you hate me, then hate me. Ruin my life. Do whatever will make you feel better, just do it in front of me. Stay at Hogwarts."

Shock rendered me speechless. "Don't do this," he continued, his voice cracking. "Not for me, but for you. Don't run away. If anyone deserves to leave Hogwarts, it's not you. Please, don't do this."

His words hung heavy in the air, each one a shard of truth that pierced the carefully constructed wall of anger I'd built around myself. "Let go of my hand, Mattheo," I whispered, not daring to look at him. He released me slowly, his touch a lingering ghost on my skin.

The silence stretched on, heavy and thick. Finally, I forced myself to meet his gaze. My own eyes, red-rimmed and tear-filled, mirrored the raw emotion in his. With a shaky breath, I whispered, "Open the door now , please."

He nodded, his face etched with pain. The door swung open silently, and for a moment, our eyes locked. Then, without a word, I turned and walked towards the door.

But before I reached the doorway, a new urgency filled his voice. "Y/N, wait!" He reached out a hand, but stopped himself before making contact. "I know I messed up. There's no excuse for what I did, but please believe me – I love you. And I'm not giving us up. I'll do whatever it takes to prove it to you."

The weight of his words hung in the air, a challenge and a plea rolled into one. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs, Taking a deep. I turned and walked out, leaving Mattheo standing alone in the empty library.

Reaching Uncle Ben's cozy cottage, I fumbled with the latch, my vision obscured by a fresh wave of tears. The door creaked open to reveal Uncle Ben, his face creasing in concern at the sight of me. Before I could even think of a response, I was enveloped in his warm, familiar embrace.

"Merlin's beard, Y/N," he chuckled, his voice laced with concern, "what happened? Did you lose a duel with a particularly grumpy pixie?"

Pulling back, I managed a watery smile. "Something like that," I mumbled, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. Uncle Ben's gaze narrowed, his playful demeanor replaced by a more serious one.

"You know, all this tears and sniffles could lead one to believe…"

He paused dramatically, dragging out the suspense. "You are not pregnant, are you?”

"Pregnant? Uncle Ben, seriously?"

He threw his head back and laughed, a booming sound that filled the room. "Just checking! Seriously that world won’t survive another riddle “

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound the crackling fire in the hearth.

"You know," he finally said, his voice gentle, "sometimes the heart wants what it wants, regardless of past hurts." He met my gaze, his eyes filled with a knowing warmth. "The question is, Y/N, what does yours truly want?"

"I don't really know," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "One thing's for sure, though. I'm done running. I can't keep letting fear dictate my life."

“Every time something gets hard, I pack my metaphorical bags and vanish. But this time… this time it feels different."

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. "There's this anger inside me, this need for revenge," I confessed, letting out a shaky breath. "It scares me, Uncle Ben. "

Uncle Ben reached for me his hand warm and comforting on mine. "There's a difference, Y/N, between righteous anger and destructive vengeance," he said softly. "Anger can be a powerful motivator, a fuel that can propel you forward. But it's crucial to channel it, to use it to grow stronger, not to let it control you."

Turning to him, I met his gaze with a newfound determination. "So," I started, a mischievous glint sparkling in my eyes, "would you help me pack up my bags for Hogwarts? And maybe... with something 'Scamander related' ?"

A playful smile mirrored mine on his face. "Always up for a good mystery, Y/N," .

The Hogwarts Express journey wasn't the gauntlet of whispers and pointed fingers I'd braced myself for. The carriage felt eerily quiet, devoid of the usual gossipy chatter and giggling. A part of me wondered if this unsettling silence was Mattheo's doing.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I rounded the corner, the familiar brick facade of the school looming ahead. Taking a deep breath.

I saw him.

He was leaning against the oak tree by the entrance, a casual posture that couldn't quite hide the tension in his shoulders. His gaze was fixed on the school doors, and for a thrilling moment, I thought I might have imagined him there.

But then, our eyes met.

His breath hitched ever so slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before a slow smile bloomed on his face. It wasn't a wide, dazzling grin, but a soft, genuine one that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

The next morning, a nervous energy thrummed through me. Gone was the urge to flee; instead, a steely determination burned bright. I arrived at Charms class, ridiculously early, senses sharp with focus.

Adrian Pucey sauntered in, brow furrowed. "Y/N? What are you doing here so early? Malfoy's the one meeting me," he said, surprise flickering in his eyes.

"Just eager for Charms," I replied coolly. "and you said Malfoy ? No idea, really”

Actually I was the one who wrote him the fake note with Malfoy’s name to come earlier.

He cleared his throat, avoiding my gaze. "Look, about what happened , believe me what Mattheo did to me after was enough to ——"

"Don't worry about it, Adrian," I interrupteda sly smile playing on my lips."Things happen."

His surprise deepened. "You...you forgive me that easily?"

Pulling a cupcake from my bag, I offered it. "Freshly baked. Want some?"

Hesitantly, he took a bite. "Sure, thanks."

"Did you know," I said casually, "Flobberworm milk compels truth?" I winked.

Stepping closer, cupcake in hand, I re-offered it. "Second chances deserve a second cupcake, wouldn't you say?"

He hesitated, then took another bite. "Thanks," he mumbled, cheeks warming.

"Speaking of truth-telling," I said, leaning in conspiratorially, "did you know the tears of a phoenix can be used to create a voice projection charm? Like, if I whispered something to a cupcake with phoenix tears baked in, and you ate it, you'd hear it in your mind ."

He blinked, clearly unsure whether to believe me or not.

"Curious, isn't it," I murmured, "the things you can learn when you spend your summer with magical creatures."

Adrian stammered, "Wh-what have you done?"

"Ever wonder what happens when a Hufflepuff marries a Slytherin?" I continued, savoring his confusion.

A playful glint entered my eyes. "Well, for one, someone might get a taste of their own medicine," I quoted my mother with a smirk.

He attempted nonchalance. "Kids would be too good for Slytherin, not quite Hufflepuff."

"And that," I said, a triumphant smile blooming, "is where things get interesting. Especially with a Scamander in the mix.”

I continued, a triumphant grin spreading across my face.“And what happens when you push a Scamander kid too far?" I continued, a triumphant grin spreading across my face. "They use their knowledge, their magical creatures... and maybe a touch of Slytherin cunning for a little revenge.

He backed away, eyes wide.

The bell clanged, shattering the playful tension between Adrian and me. Professor Flitwick,bustled in, his voluminous black robes billowing around him like a miniature storm cloud.

"Good morning, class!" he boomed, "Today, we delve into the fascinating art of Wandless Charms! A skill that separates the truly magical from the...well, let's just say it requires a certain finesse."

Professor Flitwick launched into a lively lecture, demonstrating simple levitation charms with a flourish. As he conjured a teacup to pirouette in the air, I noticed Adrian fidgeting in his seat. Leaning in, I whispered playfully, "Enjoying the class, are we, Pucey?"

He shot me a panicked glance, then mumbled something inaudible. Taking a deep breath, I decided to push my luck a little further. With a mischievous glint in my eyes, I mouthed, "Tell the truth about what you feel of this class ."

Suddenly, Adrian's hand shot up, waving wildly. Professor Flitwick, momentarily distracted, peered over his thick spectacles at the unexpected outburst.

"Mr. Pucey?" he inquired, a quizzical eyebrow raised.

"Professor," Adrian blurted out, his voice surprisingly loud in the quiet room, "I hate Charms! It's useless and frankly, you're a terrible teacher!"

Suddenly, a loud, booming voice erupted from Adrian's mouth, echoing through the entire classroom. "I HATE CHARMS! It's the most useless class ever, I CHEATED on the exam LAST YEAR, and And I've been doing everything just to be the center of attention. I've lied, manipulated, and stepped on others to make myself look better."!"

The entire class erupted in stunned silence, followed by a wave of uncontrollable laughter. Adrian's jaw hung slack, his eyes wide with horror.

Professor Flitwick, his face purple with rage, sputtered, his fist raised in the air. "Mr. Pucey! Ten points from Slytherin! Detention for a month! And perhaps a visit to Madam Pomfrey to check your sanity!"

Adrian sunk deeper into his seat, the laughter morphing into snickers and whispers

The laughter slowly faded, replaced by the echoes of Professor Flitwick's threats. I couldn't help but stifle a triumphant smirk. Adrian practically resembled a puddle of misery in his seat, the color completely drained from his face. Mission accomplished.

Just as I reached the aisle, a hand shot out, grabbing my waist in a surprisingly firm grip. Before I could yelp in surprise, two strong hands was on either side of me , pinning me against the cool stone wall. I found myself staring into the eyes of none other than Mattheo .

"That," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine, "was fucking hot."

He brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear with his thumb, Our gazes locked, the air crackling with sudden awareness.

My gaze remained steely, unflinching. "You liked that?" I challenged, my voice laced with a dangerous edge.

"I like everything you do," he replied with a smirk.

"Good," I said, leaning in closer, my voice barely a whisper. "Because that was just child's play. compared to what I'm planning for you, Riddle"

The bell echoed through the hallway, shattering the moment. Mattheo reluctantly released me, a hint of something akin to fascination flickering in his eyes. "Can’t wait my love ," he winked, a mischievous glint sparkling within, before disappearing into the throng of students.

My success with Adrian fueled a mischievous fire within me. The thrill of using magical creatures for a little payback was intoxicating. Professor Flitwick's class became my testing ground, a petri dish for brewing delightful chaos.

Every person who participated in the stupid play faced my revenge; none escaped unscathed.

The once dreaded nickname "Jinx Girl" had faded into a distant memory. This year, I was Lady Luck, a title whispered with a mix of awe and amusement. My string of successful pranks, each meticulously crafted with a dash of magical creature mischief, had transformed my reputation.

The whispers started subtly, like the rustling of leaves in the forbidden forest. "Did you see what happened ? Y/N's behind it, for sure!" or "Isn't it strange how everything's turned around for her lately?" It was a subtle shift, but the air crackled with a new awareness. The "Jinx Girl" label was fading, replaced by a more intriguing title - Lady Luck.

One gloomy afternoon, as I settled into a plush armchair by the crackling fire, a hesitant knock echoed through the room.

"Come in," I called out, peering over the worn pages of a Charms textbook.

The door creaked open, revealing a sheepish-looking Charlie . His blonde hair seemed to lose its usual vibrancy under the dim light, and his freckles stood out starkly against his pale face.

"Y/N," he mumbled, scuffing his worn boots on the floor. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, Charlie," I said, patting the empty space beside me.

He shuffled in place, fiddling with his wand. "It's... well, everything. The rumors, the play, everything."

“ Look, Y/N, I'm so incredibly sorry. I know I shouldn't have spread those rumors. I... honestly, I was a complete idiot."

"I thought," Charlie continued, his voice laced with shame, "that if I spread those rumors, every boy would stay away from you. I didn't think it would get this bad."

A mixture of anger and curiosity bubbled within me. "Why, Charlie?" I asked, my voice calmer than I felt.

He took a deep breath, his gaze filled with regret. "I… I like you, Y/N a lot since we were just kids but you never noticed me ," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "And when I saw you with Mattheo, well, and after everything he did..."

He hung his head. "And the play," he mumbled. "It was me. I told Adrian about your past. I was so angry… jealous, really. After seeing you with Mattheo."

A wave of emotions washed over me. Anger for his actions, confusion for his feelings, and a spark of something else – mattheo wasn’t the one who told them about what happened .

Taking another deep breath, I met Charlie's gaze. "Those rumors hurt," I admitted, my voice firm but gentle. "And the play…" I trailed off, choosing my words carefully. "It was a low blow, Charlie. But…" I hesitated, searching for the right words.

"But you were scared," I finished, a hint of empathy softening my tone. "Jealous, even. It's okay to feel those things, Charlie."

He looked up, a flicker of hope igniting in his blue eyes. "Do you… forgive me?"

I studied him for a moment, taking in his genuine regret. "I do," I said finally. "But forgiveness doesn't erase the consequences. You hurt me, Charlie, and you hurt others I will never forget that ."

Charlie's shoulders slumped. "I know," he said, his voice filled with remorse. "I'll do anything to make it up to you."

I smiled faintly. "Please don’t do anything a normal apologize would do ."

Months had passed since I last set foot in the library, and the scent of aged paper and leather, a familiar comfort that once soothed my soul, now felt laced with a bittersweet pang. Yet, stepping back into the hushed haven felt like tumbling through a time warp. The scent of aged paper, the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock, even the worn patches on the armchairs – everything whispered memories of Mattheo, both sweet and stinging.

the silence thrummed with echoes of hushed conversations and stolen glances. Memories of stolen moments with Mattheo – whispered secrets amongst the stacks, fingers brushing as we reached for the same book – played in a loop behind my closed eyelids.

A sigh escaped my lips as the heavy oak door shut with a soft thud behind me. The vastness of the library stretched before me, empty shelves yawning like forgotten dreams. No bustling librarians, no chattering students hunched over dusty tomes. Just me, adrift in a sea of silence, the weight of the past clinging to my every step.

But then I saw him.

Mattheo stood near the Charms section, a sly smirk twisting his lips. His eyes, usually filled with a cool amusement, held a challenge this time. A knot of tension formed in my stomach.

"You forgive him so easily," he drawled, his voice low enough to carry only between the towering bookshelves.

He gestured towards an empty space beside him, a clear invitation. My pulse quickened. Part of me wanted to whirl around and storm out, to deny him the satisfaction of any reaction. But another, more curious part, craved to know what game he was playing.

With a measured breath, I sauntered towards him, my chin held high. "Forgive who?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk deepening. "Come now, Y/N," he said, his voice a silky murmur. "Don't tell me you haven't had a heart-to-heart with Spinnet already."

"What do you really want, Riddle?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of hurt and confusion.

Mattheo took a shaky breath, his hand reaching out hesitantly before retracting. "I can't do this anymore, Y/N," he confessed, his voice raw. "I thought if I gave you some space..."

"Space?" I scoffed, tears welling up again. "Space? You call watching me all summer, space? I know what you did to those boys, and then threatening everyone in this school on the first day to not talk or do anything to me space??" I yelled, tears streaming down my face.

The words tumbled out, fueled by a wellspring of hurt I hadn't even realized I was holding onto. "I don't understand, Mattheo! I don't really understand. I've dealt with difficult things before, truly awful things, but none of them hurt as much as this betrayal. Why? Why can't I get over it? Why does it feel like someone ripped open my soul and stomped on it a million times? Then it hit me. You did that, Mattheo. You."

My voice broke, replaced by a choked sob. "You showed me a love I never knew existed, a love I never dared to dream of , showered me with affection and tenderness. You touched parts of my soul I never knew were there. Every inch of me, every piece of me – my heart, my mind, my soul – had your name written all over it , Every fiber of my being, every beat of my heart, seemed to have your name etched upon it. And then, you snatched it all away.. They say it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but that's a lie. Because feeling your love, then losing it, is the worst pain I've ever experienced.”

The air crackled between us, thick with unspoken emotions and the sting of my tears. Mattheo inched closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the turmoil within me. I could feel his breath whisper against my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Y/N," he pleaded, his voice husky with emotion ."I know you don't believe me," he confessed, his red- eyes searching mine .

“but this feeling... it terrifies me. I've never felt like this before. Never cared about anyone but myself and Enzo . But then you came along. The purest thing I've ever have , the closest I'll ever get to heaven."

His words hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the arrogant facade he usually presented.

"I miss you," he continued, his voice raw with longing. "I miss what we had. The way your smile could light up a room, the way your cheeks would flush the prettiest shade of pink ."

He paused, his hand hovering hesitantly near mine. "I can't do this anymore. This game... it's torture. Every stolen glance, every witty banter, it just makes the truth harder to bear. Tell me what you want me to do. Name it, anything. But please, just end this charade. It's killing me “

A tremor ran through him, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine fear in his eyes.

He looked at me for a second, taking a shaky breath. Then, the words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. "I love you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm not afraid to say it anymore. I regret not approaching you properly, i regret taking that stupid dare ."

His gaze held mine, desperate for any sign of reciprocation. "You asked if everything between us was a lie," he continued, his voice low. "But listen to me now. You're the truest thing that's ever happened to me. I love you, Y/N. And I can't stand there watching you, knowing I can't hold you. I never wanted to hurt you, And I promise, I'll never let anyone hurt you again"

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo in the quiet library. Every fiber of my being yearned to believe him, to reach out and melt into his embrace. But the betrayal was still fresh, a gaping wound that pulsed with pain.

"I can't trust you anymore, Mattheo," I choked out, the words a bitter truth. "Even if I want to, I can't. Every word you say feels like another lie. I hate you," I confessed, the words ripping from my throat. "I hate you so much for making me want to forgive you. I hate you because I love you so much."

"Don't cry," he pleaded, his voice thick with a desperate sincerity. "I'll do anything. Just say it, and I'll do it."

The promise hung in the air, tempting and dangerous. I reached up and covered his hand with mine, the warmth seeping into my chilled skin. Despite the storm raging inside me, a small part of me craved the comfort of his touch, the solace of forgiveness.

"Then let me go, Mattheo," I whispered, the words tasting like ashes in my mouth. "Let me go. Don't approach me. Don't try to fix anything. Just let me go."

The pain in his eyes mirrored the turmoil within me. "Is that what you truly want?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

I could only nod, a fresh wave of tears cascading down my face. Every part of me ached to forget the past, to bury my head in his chest and feel the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat. But the betrayal was a wall I couldn't climb over, not yet.

"Then I will do it ,love." He brushed away my tears one last time, his touch lingering for a heartbreaking moment before he took a step back. The pain in his eyes was a something i could never forget.

He gave me one last, lingering look before turning and leaving the library, the heavy oak door closing with a finality that echoed the slamming shut of my own heart. The air hung heavy with unspoken emotions, the weight of my decision pressing down on me.

My revenge, I realized with a bitter pang, tasted worse than Flobberworm milk and phonics tears on cupcakes. But in that moment, I didn't realize that in punishing him, I was condemning myself to an equally excruciating torture

Days bled into weeks, each one stretching out with the agonizing slowness of a Dementor's kiss. What I had envisioned as a sweet victory – Mattheo squirming under the weight of my indifference – felt more like a self-inflicted Cruciatus Curse.

The once-familiar halls of Hogwarts became a minefield of awkward silences and stolen glances. Every corner held the ghost of his laughter, every shadowed alcove whispered echoes of his touch. Avoiding him became a constant, exhausting dance.

In Herbology, Professor Sprout droned on about the magical properties of Bubotuber pus, but all I could focus on was the empty space beside me. It had become a glaring absence, a constant reminder of the warmth that used to be there.

Across the room, I could feel his gaze burning into me. But when I dared to steal a glance, his head would be bent diligently over his textbook, his jaw clenched tight. It was a practiced act of indifference, a mask that mirrored the one I wore.

Lunch in the Great Hall was an ordeal. I'd scan the long Slytherin table, searching for any sign of him. Relief would flood me when I wouldn't see him, only to be replaced by a hollow pang of disappointment.

One day, as I shuffled through the crowded hallway, I felt a presence looming behind me. My heart hammered a frantic tattoo against my ribs. I quickened my pace, clutching my books tighter, willing myself to disappear. But the presence remained, a silent taunt.

Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer, I chanced a peek over my shoulder. My stomach lurched. It was him, his face a stony mask, his eyes fixed on a point far beyond me. He sidestepped me with practiced ease, not even a flicker of recognition in his gaze.

The charade was relentless. In Potions, Professor Snape's scathing remarks seemed muted compared to the deafening silence between Mattheo and me. We brewed our Draught of Peace with a silent intensity, each movement a calculated act of avoidance.

The whispers started subtly, like the rustle of leaves in a slight breeze. "Did you see them? Not a single word!" one student would murmur to another. Soon, the whispers morphed into open stares, the entire school buzzing with the unspoken tension between us.

It was as if by avoiding each other, we'd created a spectacle far more dramatic than any confrontation could have been. The unspoken longing, the raw emotions hanging heavy in the air – it was a story more captivating than any Quidditch match.

What hurt the most ? I couldn't escape the feeling that everyone else was living their lives, while mine was trapped in this agonizing purgatory of unspoken emotions and a love I couldn't embrace or deny.

The silence between us was deafening, a reminder of the bond we'd shattered. My carefully crafted revenge felt hollow, a Pyrrhic victory that left me as desolate as the empty space beside him. The ache in my chest had little to do with anger and everything to do with a longing I couldn't name.

Then came the worst part. It wasn't just the awkward silences or stolen glances at him interacting with others. It was the way the girls around me perked up, their smiles a bit too wide, their laughter a bit too forced. They saw the distance between Mattheo and me, the void where his presence used to be, as an open invitation.

Professor Sprout's well-meaning attempt to pair us up for a project backfired spectacularly.

Mattheo, his usual smirk replaced by a practiced indifference, meticulously tended to his Venomous Tentacula while I wrestled with a particularly stubborn Flobberworm. The silence between us was thicker than the sap dripping from the Bubotuber pus. We moved with a practiced efficiency, avoiding eye contact, our movements a painful ballet of unspoken hurt and when he was finally done with his part he left without even glancing at me .

Across the room, laughter erupted. A pretty brunette girl, Astoria Greengrass, leaned in conspiratorially towards Mattheo, a giggle escaping her lips. He threw his head back, a genuine smile lighting up his face, a sight that sent a spike of jealousy through me.

My Flobberworm wriggled free, sending a spray of dirt flying. Professor Sprout's raised eyebrow and stern lecture were a welcome distraction from the scene unfolding across the room. The warmth in Mattheo's laughter, the ease with which he interacted with Astoria, was a sharp contrast to the icy distance he maintained with me.

The worst part, however, wasn't the girls themselves. It was the way they looked at me – a mixture of pity and smug satisfaction. Their gazes seemed to say, "See? Now you see what you had and threw away."

Another day, another ordeal. During Charms, a boy from Ravenclaw, Michael Corner, sidled up to me, his voice a steady stream of nervous chatter. He droned on about the upcoming Quidditch match, his words blurring into background noise.

Across the room, I stole a glance at Matteo. He sat slumped in his chair, his gaze fixed on the textbook in front of him. But a flicker of movement caught my eye. His jaw clenched slightly, knuckles turning white as he gripped the book. He didn't turn towards me, didn't acknowledge Michael's presence. It was as if I, and the boy beside me, simply ceased to exist.

A pang of something akin to disappointment shot through me. Was this truly what he’s doing ? erasing me from his memory? The silence between us, once deafening, now felt suffocating. I craved a reaction, anything to break the monotony of our charade.

Days bled into weeks, each one a monotonous echo of the last. Lunch in the Great Hall was an exercise in self-torture. I sat with some girls from my class , their cheery chatter a stark contrast to the turmoil within me.

Across the room, Mattheo sat with a group of Slytherins, his usual arrogance back in place. He spoke in hushed tones, his eyes scanning the room. Did they land on me? I couldn't tell, wouldn't allow myself to hope.

Suddenly, Draco Malfoy sauntered over, a smirk playing on his lips. He leaned in, whispering something in Mattheo's ear, his gaze flickering towards me. A flicker of something – anger, maybe? – crossed Mattheo's face before he schooled his features back into indifference.

Draco's smirk widened, punctuated by a loud laugh. The sound grated on my nerves, a confirmation that he had successfully moved on, leaving me drowning in the wreckage of our broken connection.

The once vibrant halls of Hogwarts had become a constant reminder of what I'd lost. The whispers, the pointed looks, the morbid fascination with our unspoken war – it all felt suffocating. The silence between us, once deafening, now resonated with a profound emptiness.

In my quest for revenge, I had succeeded in destroying not just him, but a part of myself. And as I stared across the Great Hall, the bitter truth settled in – the only thing more unbearable than his betrayal was his indifference.

The ache in my core pulsed with every stolen glance at Matteo. A single, accidental lock of eyes during Charms was all it took to reignite the inferno I'd thought I'd extinguished. The familiar heat bloomed in my cheeks, spreading downwards, a stark reminder of the raw, physical connection we shared.

Driven by an insatiable hunger, I succumbed to temptation, seeking solace in the darkness of night. With trembling hands, I slipped my fingers inside my pants, yearning for the touch of his hands upon my skin. But no matter how fervently I imagined his touch, it was futile, a poor substitute for the real thing.

His absence loomed large in my mind, a constant reminder of the void he had left behind. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I grappled with the overwhelming sense of loss, longing for the warmth of his embrace.

In the silence of my room, I cried myself to sleep, the weight of my unfulfilled desires weighing heavily upon me. No matter how hard I tried to bury them, the flames of passion continued to burn, fueled by the memory of his touch.

The next day crawled by, each tick of the clock echoing the heavy weight in my chest. Just as I contemplated escaping to the familiar comfort of the Slytherin common room, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows of the deserted hallway – Enzo.

His usual carefree air was replaced by a somberness that mirrored my own. "Y/N," he started hesitantly, his voice uncharacteristically unsure.

"Enzo, hi," I greeted nervously. "Are you... are you alright?"

He paused, his gaze flickering with concern. "I need to talk to you," he finally said, his voice low.

"Sure," I whispered, a nervous smile tugging at my lips.

He gestured towards an empty classroom beside us. We entered, the silence suddenly thick and heavy.

"It's about Mattheo," he began, his voice dropping even lower.

My heart hammered against my ribs,

"What about him?" I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Enzo took a deep breath, his gaze flickering with an emotion I couldn't decipher. "He — He has a really dangerous disease Y/N," he blurted out, the words heavy in the quiet hallway.

Enzo's words hit me like a Stunning Spell. My breath caught in my throat, the air suddenly thick with a suffocating weight. Disease? Mattheo? It couldn't be true. The anger that had simmered within me for weeks flickered, threatened by a spark of something else – a flicker of fear, of a terrible, dawning realization.

"Disease?" I choked out, the word barely a whisper.

Enzo nodded. "Serious. He doesn't know how long..." He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. "But he's getting worse every day. Refused to tell you himself, stubborn git."

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring Enzo's concerned face. "He never said anything," I choked out, my voice thick with emotion. "He wouldn't even look at me."

Enzo sighed, a deep rumble that spoke of a burden shared. "He's stubborn, that one. Especially when it comes to protecting you “

"But how could he not tell me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

"He loves you, Y/N," Enzo said, his voice firm. "More than anything, I swear. I've never seen him care about anyone the way he cares about you. I knew what he did was unforgivable , but his feelings for you… they're real."

A sob escaped my lips, tears blurring my vision. The image of Mattheo, his usual arrogance replaced by vulnerability, echoed in my mind.

"you deserves to know," Enzo said, his gaze unwavering. "Even if you can't forgive him, even if you hate him… you deserve to know the truth."

Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of grief and confusion.

"He'll do anything for you, you know," Enzo continued. "Hiding this… it's killing him. More than the illness itself."

Another sob escaped my lips. The anger, the carefully constructed walls of indifference – it all seemed so petty now, dwarfed by the weight of his illness. All this time, I'd been punishing him, punishing myself, while he…

Panic clawed at my throat. "How bad is it? How long…?" My voice wouldn't form the question.

Enzo shook his head, a grim expression on his face. "I don't know all the details, Y/N. He wouldn't tell me much. But he's getting worse, and by the way there's no cure."

The weight of the revelation pressed down on me. The silent war we waged, the stolen glances filled with unspoken emotions – it all seemed so meaningless now. All I wanted to do was see him, to hold him, to tell him… what?

Looking at Enzo, tears streaming down my face, I whispered, " Where is he?"

Enzo hesitated, then pointed towards the forest . "He's usually there, you know where , trying to clear his head."

"Thank you, Enzo," I croaked, my voice thick with emotion. "For telling me."

Enzo nodded, a hint of a sad smile gracing his lips. "Just… don't let pride get in the way, alright? Talk to him. Figure things out he needs you now more than ever. ." He squeezed my shoulder before turning and leaving me alone with the weight of this revelation.

Enzo's words echoed in my head, each syllable a hammer blow against my chest. Disease. Limited time. The anger, the carefully constructed walls of resentment, all crumbled under the weight of this revelation. Tears blurred my visionI raced through the castle corridors, legs burning, a primal urge driving me forward.

I didn't care about the stares, the confused whispers that followed. I only cared about getting to him , My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, each beat punctuated by a sob that tore through me.

The familiar path to the Forbidden Forest became a blur. Thorns ripped at my robes, branches snagged at my hair, but I didn't feel them. All I felt was a desperate need to reach him, to hold him.

A sharp sting on my knee brought me back to the present. I looked down to see a crimson stain blooming on my robes, a tear in the fabric revealing a scraped knee. But the pain was a mere whisper compared to the agony twisting in my gut.

The memory of his secret place, fueled my desperate run. It was a sanctuary he'd revealed only to me, Now, it was my beacon, the only place I could imagine him seeking solace in his time of despair.

Bursting through the familiar curtain of trees, I skidded to a halt, chest heaving, tears streaming down my face. My vision swam, but I could just make out the clearing, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun.

Reaching the clearing, I pushed aside the concealing ivy with trembling hands. The familiar wooden door stood before me, mockingly still. I flung it open, ignoring the groan of rusted hinges.

Pushing the pain aside, I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the blood seeping through my torn robes. The hidden entrance, disguised by a tangle of ivy, materialized before my tear-filled eyes.

With trembling hands, I cleared the vines, pushing through the narrow opening. The familiar scent of earth and damp stone greeted me, a small comfort in the storm raging inside.

Inside the dimly lit chamber, my breath caught in my throat, with my ragged sobs as I stumbled towards the bed. Mattheo peacefully sleeping on , his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

"Mattheo!" I shrieked, the name a desperate plea that tore through the silence. "Mattheo, wake up!"

He stirred at the sound, his brow furrowing in confusion. His eyes fluttered open, blinking away the remnants of sleep. his eyes widening in shock before softening at the sight of my tear-streaked face,the raw panic radiating from my very being.

"Y/N?" he rasped, his voice weak. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Before he could finish his question, I was on him, collapsing onto the bed in a heap of sobs and frantic whispers

His arms wrapped around me. held me close, his voice a soothing murmur against my ear. " it's okay, love," he whispered, his voice thick with concern. "What happened? Are you hurt? Tell me what's wrong, baby did someone…" he trailed off, his voice hardening with a possessive anger."

The sound of those endearment words, so unexpected after weeks of cold silence, sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down my cheeks.

"Don't cry, love," he murmured, his voice thick with concern. "Tell me what's wrong. Did someone hurt you? Did someone say something?"

His gaze dropped to the injury, "Oh Merlin," he breathed, his voice laced with self-reproach. "How did you… why did you come here like this?"

My voice, when it finally came, was a choked sob. Words tumbled out in a rush, a jumbled mess of emotions. "Enzo… he told me… you're sick… I… I thought…"

Mattheo's brow furrowed further. He reached out, his touch tentative on my arm. "Slow down, love," he murmured. "What did Enzo tell you?"

I took a shaky breath, wiping at the tears blurring my vision. "That you… that you had a dangerous illness… that you didn't have long."

A bewildered frown creased his forehead. illness? What illness ? “

"Don't lie to me, Mattheo," I pleaded, tears welling up again. "He said you were… you were dying."

"Enzo that fucker ," he muttered, shaking his head . "He must have been trying to get us to talk." He let out a dry, humorless laugh, the sound sending a fresh wave of pain through me. "He always did have a dramatic flair."

My entire body tensed. Was he lying? My gaze darted across his face, searching for any sign of truth.

"But Enzo wouldn't lie about something like that," I protested, my voice shaky. "He was so worried. He said you loved me, that I deserved to know."

His arms tightened around me "Well, Enzo got one thing right then,"

"So there's no illness?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mattheo cupped my face in his hand, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. "No illness, love. Just a heartbroken fool who did something incredibly stupid." His gaze softened, searching mine. "You believed him?"

Shame burned in my throat. "I… I was scared,"

Mattheo's expression softened. "Scared about me?" he asked gently, his thumb brushing against my cheek in a soothing gesture.

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze as tears threatened to spill over once more.

“you don't have to be scared anymore. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."A wave of relief washed over me as I melted into his embrace, feeling the weight of my fears slowly lift from my shoulders. In his arms

his playful smile fading, replaced by a sharp concern that etched lines on his face his gaze flicked down to my knee

"Oh Merlin," he muttered, kneeling down to examine the wound. A crimson stain was blossoming on my knee .

"It looks worse than it is, probably," I mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant. But the wince I couldn't quite suppress betrayed me.. He knelt beside me, his touch sending a familiar spark through my body despite the circumstances.

"You shouldn't have run like that," he said gently, his voice laced with a hint of disapproval. "Look at you, all bruised and bleeding."

My cheeks burned, not just from the sting of the wounds, but from the unexpected tenderness in his voice. "I… I just needed to see you," I mumbled, looking away.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Well, you certainly made an entrance," he said, a hint of amusement returning to his eyes. But his smile faltered as he focused on my wounds .

"Here, let me get you cleaned up," he said, his voice firm.

He rummaged through the surprisingly well-stocked medical kit hidden in the corner, pulling out vials of glistening potions and bandages. The air filled with the pungent scent of dittany as he carefully cleaned my wounds, his touch surprisingly gentle.

Each swipe of the cloth sent a jolt through me, a confusing mix of pain and a strange kind of pleasure. Shame battled with a newfound hope as I met his gaze. The anger and hurt that had clouded his eyes for weeks were gone, replaced by a warmth that sent a flutter to my stomach.

"There," he said finally, tying the last bandage with a practiced ease. "That should hold for now."

As he pulled back, our eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, the air crackled with unspoken words. The silence between us, once heavy with tension, thrummed with a new energy.

"I'm so sorry for barging in like that," I mumbled, looking away.

"Hey," he said, his voice firm but kind. " You scared the daylights out of me, but I'm glad you're here."

"Do__Do you still care about me?" I blurted out, the question tumbling out before I could stop it. Tears welled up again, threatening to spill over.

Mattheo's eyes widened for a moment, then a flicker of something warm crossed them.

"Like... are you kidding me?" he said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Of course I do."

My heart hammered in my chest. "But I thought..." I trailed off, unsure how to voice the tangled mess of emotions that had been churning inside me.

"You thought I moved on?" he finished, his voice gentle.

I nodded, ashamed of the doubt that had festered for so long.

"I was giving you space," he explained, "the space you said you needed. But believe me, it was killing me."

"Merlin's beard, Y/N. Every time some bloke even glanced your way, I felt like I might hex the lot of them."

My cheeks burned. As I laughed at what he said

his gaze lingering on my lips. "I swear I didn't tell anyone about what you told me that night," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "I had nothing to do with the play. ,I didn't know they were going to do that I only didn't want you to go because it was connected to the dare and I thought if we just stayed away, it would all blow over."

"I know," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "Charlie told me."

his messy hair softened by the dim light, his jaw shadowed with a hint of stubble, but his gaze held that same familiar warmth that had always sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

He looked so good, so heartbreakingly handsome, a possessiveness rising in my chest. He was mine

I couldn't hold back any longer. With a soft whimper, I closed the gap between us, my lips meeting his in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

His lips were warm and soft, molding perfectly to mine.The taste of him – a mixture of mint and something uniquely Mattheo – flooded my senses, sending a jolt through my body.

Mattheo responded instantly, pulling me closer until I was practically settling me on his lap , melting into him . His hands slid down my back.

He held me tightly, as if afraid I might disappear, and the urgency in his kiss mirrored my own. It was a hungry kiss, filled with a raw passion that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long.

We explored each other's mouths with a newfound intensity, the taste of him igniting a fire deep within me. Our tongues danced together, a silent conversation filled with unspoken promises and a desperate need for more.

He pulled back slightly, his breath ragged. His eyes, shimmering with desire, held me captive.My own hands tangled in his hair . "I missed you," he rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

The words echoed my own feelings. God, how I'd missed him.

He kissed me again the kiss deepened, a desperate plea for connection after weeks of longing. My hips instinctively swayed against him, seeking a friction that had been absent for too long. The ache in my core, a dull throb that had plagued me, seemed to lessen with each press of my body against his,It felt like a dam had broken, a release after a drought.

But then I felt it – a firmness pressing against my core, a sensation that sent a jolt through my system. It overwhelmed my senses, momentarily drowning the delicious haze of the kiss. As my body brushed against it again, a guttural moan escaped Mattheo's lips. Reality slammed back, and I tore myself away from the kiss, eyes wide with a sudden realization.

"I'm so sorry," I stammered, the words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "I didn't realize…" my cheeks a fiery red. "Does it hurt you too?"

"Too?"He tilted his head, a playful smile on his face ."What do you mean, baby? What's hurting you?

"I-I just..." I stammered, my cheeks burning like embers. "I don't know... It's just..." Words failed me completely.

His playful smirk deepened the pit in my stomach. "Yeah?" he prompted, his confusion tinged with amusement.

"That would be…" My voice dropped to a barely audible murmur. "That ache, and it won't just go away, no matter what I try."

He chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. "Oh, my love. That sounds awful." He brushed a fallen strand of hair away from my face, his touch sending a fresh wave of heat through me.

"Tell me, love," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, "where does this ache come from?"

before I could confess, a new sensation stole the air from my lungs. His lips, warm and insistent, found my neck again

"Where was that ache coming from, love?" he repeated, his lips soft against my skin, eliciting a moan of pleasure.

"Tell me," he urged, cupping my breast while peppering kisses all over my neck. "I'm still waiting for you to answer me, my love," his voice dominant, commanding my attention.

"It was... down there," I admitted. "It won't go away, no matter what I try," I continued, feeling exposed.

His lips found a sensitive spot behind my ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. "And what have you tried to do to make it go away?" he murmured, his voice turning dark .

"I... I tried to do what you did to me before, but I couldn't," I whispered, tears welling in my eyes, their origin unclear. He kissed them away, his lips tender against my skin.

"You tried to touch yourself? Tried to recreate what I did to you? And who were you thinking about while doing it, darling?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

"You... it was you. I also imagined it was you, but it didn't work," I confessed.

"You're going to be the death of me," he murmured, kissing away the last of my tears. Then he continued, his voice low and seductive, "We need to do something about that then , Would you let me kiss it better?"

Unable to tear my gaze from his, I simply nodded, my voice stolen by the intensity in his eyes.

"Words, love,I need to hear your voice "

"Yes, please," I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips.

The kiss that followed was possessive, a searing claim . When he finally pulled away, his eyes burned with a dark intensity.

"Good," he breathed, his voice thick with desire . "Because I'm going to worship every inch of that beautiful body. Every. Inch. Of. You."

With a tenderness that contrasted with the raw desire in his voice, he gently laid me down on the bed. The plush fabric felt cool against my flushed skin as anticipation coiled in the pit of my stomach.

His fingers brushed against my collarbone as he meticulously unfastened each button of my shirt. His gaze never left mine, the intensity in his eyes sending shivers down my spine.

"That Ravenclaw boy, Michael Corner, what was he telling you?"

His question jolted me back to reality. I blinked, momentarily confused, then recalled, "Oh, right, Michael. He was talking about the next Quidditch match. I didn't know you noticed."

A wry smile played on his lips. "Oh, believe me, I did," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Every. Single. Second. Especially when his eyes kept flickering back over here."

His gaze dropped pointedly to the space where my shirt now hung open, and a blush crept up my neck.

"Believe me," he whispered,"my eyes were on you the entire time."

Heat pulsed through me as his kisses trailed down my neck, each one a spark igniting a fire within. I squeezed my eyes shut, a strangled moan caught in my throat. Nervous flutters danced in my stomach, a foreign sensation that both scared and thrilled me.

A gasp ripped through me as Matteo's cool fingers dipped beneath my skirt. My skin, flushed from his heated kisses, sent a jolt of contrasting sensation against his touch. It was a delicious shock, leaving me breathless.

"Hey," he murmured, voice laced with concern as he immediately stopped, his brows furrowing. "Is this okay? Do you want me to…"

He began to retract his hand, but before he could fully pull away, I reached out, my fingers blindly grasping at his . "No," I mumbled, the word barely a whisper. My voice betrayed me, shaky and breathless. Why did this simple touch feel so earth-shattering?

"No," I repeated, a little firmer this time, gathering my courage. "I mean, yes. This is… I want that." The last few words tumbled out in a rush, so quiet I wasn't sure if he even heard them.

I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to meet his gaze. I could almost picture the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips

A blush crept up my neck as his voice rumbled in my ear, a promise laced with concern. "If you feel uncomfortable at any point, love, just say the word. I want this to be good for you." His touch lingered on my bare skin, a burning ember against my suddenly chilled flesh.

The sincerity in his voice calmed the knot of nerves twisting in my stomach. I knew he wouldn't push me further than I was ready. Taking a deep breath, I met his gaze, my own desire reflected back in his warm brown eyes.

"I trust you," I whispered, the words a shaky promise.

A slow smile spread across his face, lighting up his features like the sunrise.

The brush of his fingers against the fabric of my bra sent a jolt through me. He paused, his eyes searching mine once more, a silent question hanging in the air.

This time, my response was a small, barely-there nod. It was a hesitant surrender, an invitation whispered on a breath. A satisfied glint sparked in his eyes before he continued his exploration, his touch sending shivers dancing across my skin.

Matteo's fingers grazed the clasp of my bra. The touch was a spark that ignited a fire within me, a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Instinctively, my fingers tangled themselves in his hair . He dipped his head, his lips trailing a warm path down my neck before finding a sensitive spot on my chest. A soft moan escaped my lips as he teased the nipple

My back arched involuntarily, a silent plea for him to continue. I tugged on his hair, not wanting him to stop, not wanting this exquisite feeling to end.

"Does that feel good, love?" he murmured against my skin, his voice husky with desire.

"Yes," I breathed, the word barely a whisper lost in the symphony of sensations swirling around me. My eyelids fluttered shut, the world dissolving into a haze of touch and taste, the touch of his skin and the warmth of his breath. Everything else faded away .

Moving to my other nipple giving it the same attention .My fingers instinctively tangled themselves in his hair.

A wave of heat washed over me as Matteo's hand brushed against the hem of my skirt soft sigh escaped his lips as his gaze drifted to my soaked panties .

“I’ve wanted this for such a long time, you have no idea,” he murmured, sucking on the skin of my inner thighs as my hands fisted the bedsheets.

“Please,” I begged, feeling no embarrassment about how desperate I sounded. As soon as he began to suck on my clit, all my worries began to vanish. Profane words spilled from my mouth as Matteo took his sweet time with me.

"Merlin, oh, I—" It seemed as if I couldn’t control my mouth any longer; my instincts took over. I knew that I was ready; I wanted him, all of him.

“Relax, baby, I’ve got you,” his eyes were pitch black by now pupils were dilated, a dark reflection of the desire .

A loving smile playing on his lips as he slowly inserted a finger into me. It still felt strange to me, a sensation I hadn't quite grown accustomed to yet. I was tight around his fingers, but my moans urged him on. Adding another finger, he alternated between sucking, licking, then repeating, drawing me closer to my release,a mind-blowing orgasm that I’d never forget.

My stomach clenched, a tight knot forming as a foreign heat bloomed in my core. Blood roared in my ears, drowning out everything except his voice and the frantic pounding of my heart. My head arched back against the pillow, muscles involuntarily tightening around his fingers.

" good girl , Come for me, love,"

A guttural moan escaped my lips as pleasure surged through me, a wave cresting and crashing in a series of shivers. "Mattheo," I breathed, his name a desperate prayer repeated again and again.

"That’s fucking right, love ." he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Say my name,no one else says my name quite like you do. It's a sound I desperately missed."

His words fueled the fire within me, and I surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure, clinging to him as the wave crested and receded. Exhausted but exhilarated, I opened my eyes to find his gaze locked on mine.

A slow smile tugged at his lips as he brushed a kiss across my flushed cheek. The touch ignited a spark within me, and I reached out, my fingers curling around his hand. With a newfound boldness, I drew him closer, our lips meeting in a kiss that spoke volumes.

"I want you Mattheo all of you ," I whispered against his lips, with newfound confidence.

His gaze held mine for a beat, searching for any flicker of hesitation. He saw none, only a reflection of the desire burning brightly in his own eyes.

"Are you absolutely sure, love?" he asked.

"Absolutely sure just be gentle ," I breathed against his lips, the words leaving no room for doubt.

He undressed himself slowly, his eyes never leaving my form. I couldn't help but admire the contours of his body as he revealed each inch of his skin. My fingers tingled with anticipation, and I reached out to trace the lines of his sculpted six-pack, feeling the firmness beneath my touch. His muscles rippled under my fingertips.

My apprehension grew as I looked at his length, my mind swirling with doubts and desires. " will it hurt?" I asked, my voice betraying my fear and curiosity. I couldn't shake the nagging thought of how he would fit inside me.

"I won’t do anything to hurt you. I'll be gentle with you, okay?"he reassured me, his words soothing my nerves.

“Is that gonna fit?”

“I’ll make it fit.” He kissed a trail down the valley between my breasts, his lips igniting a flame against my skin. Each touch sent a surge of heat through me, anticipation building with every passing second.

He ran the tip of his hardness through my wet folds agonizingly slowly, each touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through my body. I could feel myself throbbing with need as he coated himself with my slickness, the sensation almost overwhelming. Gasping for breath, I reached out for his free hand holding it , needing the connection to ground me amidst the whirlwind of sensation.

“Breathe for me, baby,” Matteo murmured, his voice laced with tenderness and desire. "Keep your eyes on me. Let me see those pretty eyes."

A sharp hiss escaped my lips as he slowly began to push into me, each inch stretching my muscles as they accommodated his girth. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, a combination of pleasure and slight discomfort mingling together. , his lips pressing tender kisses against my cheeks wiped away the tears .

As he started to roll his hips, a slow and steady rhythm, the initial discomfort gave way to a rush of pleasure that flooded my senses. Each movement sent waves of sensation coursing through me, building the intensity of our connection with every thrust.

It didn't take me long to get used to the new sensation; my cries turned into moans, loud moans, my nails clawed at his back as he picked up his speed. "You're doing so well my love '." He kept on praising me as I clenched around his length.

“Good girl," . His thumb continued to circle my pulsing clit, sending electric shocks of pleasure through me. Mattheo buried his head in my neck, inhaling my scent as he listened to the rhythm of our bodies moving together. "God, you feel so good, like a fucking dream. I'll never get enough of you," he whispered against my skin, his words sending shivers down my spine.

As I looked down, the sight of our bodies connected together made me moan even louder. I couldn't help but notice the drips of blood on his dick as he moved, a stark reminder of our primal connection.

"I love you, Mattheo. I'm sorry it took me so long to say it, but I do love you more than life itself," I breathed out between heavy moans, my confession hanging in the air like a promise. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pulled him closer, desperate for more of him.

"Fucking hell, love, are you trying to kill me?" he sucked on my neck, pushing me over the edge for the second time that evening. The feeling exploded in my belly, my moans urging him closer to his own release. Still, I continued to clench around him, my body writhing with pleasure as he rode me through the bliss. His cock twitched inside of me, warmth spreading through me as he released himself inside of me.

I was on birth control pills my mother had made me take them since I turned eighteen, but in that moment, nothing else mattered but the overwhelming sensation of love and desire coursing through my veins.

“ Holy shit,Never thought I could love someone this much. What are you doing to me ?“

"Not even Astoria Greengrass?" I teased, unable to resist bringing that up .

"Don’t you dare bring another woman’s name up while my dick is still inside you," he retorted, his tone playful yet possessive.

I chuckled, cupping his face to kiss him passionately. His response was equally fervent, but a moan escaped my lips as I felt him getting out off me .

Surveying the aftermath, I couldn't help but feel a mix of pleasure and soreness. "I think I've lost my ability to walk," I joked.

"yeah ?" he teased back, laying down beside me. His fingers gently traced patterns in my hair as he leaned in to kiss my forehead with tenderness.

"I will never, ever do anything to hurt you again," he vowed softly.

Smiling softly, I whispered, "I know," before meeting his lips in another kiss.

He broke the kiss with a chuckle" I owes Enzo big time, huh? Best brother of the year?"

I laughed, feeling the exhaustion starting to set in.

"still ,but he'll pay for frightening you like that. Now, how about I take care of you first ?" I nodded, too tired to speak.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅

BONUS SCENE.

We re-entered the castle, his hand never leaving mine. It wasn't a casual hold, but a tight clasp, his fingers weaving between mine like a declaration

Suddenly, Matteo stopped short, his eyes widening in surprise. Following his gaze, I spotted a familiar tall figure with kind eyes and a warm smile – Uncle Ben! My jaw dropped. What was he doing here?

“Look who it is! Isn't that my favorite niece?"

"Uncle Ben? What are you doing here?"

"Ah," he chuckled, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Professor Flitwick requested a little assistance with a... well, let's just say a certain magical artifact has gotten a bit out of sorts. Seems my expertise is needed to tame the beast, Thought I'd surprise you , and pop in to see how things are going at Hogwarts"

My jaw nearly hit the floor,how things are going at Hogwarts ? Well uncle…

“ this young man was keeping my company , Enzo, wasn't it?", his voice laced with amusement as he gestured towards Enzo.

"The one and only," Enzo confirmed with a wide grin, throwing in another wink for good measure.

My stomach lurched as Uncle Ben's gaze darted down to our hands, still subtly intertwined. The air crackled with sudden tension , his eyes darted from me to Mattheo, lingering a beat too long on the hand that still rested possessively on mine.

"Riddle Jr., isn't he?" he boomed, his jovial demeanor replaced with a mixture of surprise and something akin to panic.

My mind raced, desperately searching for an explanation. "Uncle Ben, it's —" I began, only to be cut off by his frantic question.

" you're not pregnant, right?" he blurted, his voice dropping to a panicked whisper.

My jaw dropped. Enzo choked on a laugh, shooting a helpless glance towards Mattheo, who seemed to be suppressing a smirk.

“you're holding hands! "

Enzo clapped Uncle Ben on the shoulder, his voice booming with forced cheer. "Come on, Ben! Let's not jump to conclusions. They're just kids, figuring things out."

My uncle's expression remained skeptical. He shifted his gaze to Matteo, a guarded look replacing the initial shock. " Riddle Jr. here," he began, his voice tight. "What exactly are your intentions towards y/n ?"

Matteo met Uncle Ben's gaze head-on, his posture unwavering. "Sir," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I deeply regret the way things ended between y/n and me. I know I hurt her, and for that, I'll never forgive myself. However, I care for her a great deal, and I would never do anything to intentionally cause her pain again." His eyes flickered to me briefly, a flicker of something warm passing between us. "All I want is a chance to prove myself worthy of her trust."

"Uncle Ben, I trust Mattheo. We'll take things slow, and I promise to be careful."

"Wow, you two look positively radiant. Blindingly so, actually. Sunglasses anyone?”enzo said wrapping his hands around my uncle shoulders.

Our synchronized eye rolls at his comment were enough to power the entire castle for a week. He held his hands up defensively, a playful grin plastered across his face while murmuring, "I'm still your brother, don't kill me," to Mattheo.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅

Tag list :

@avee-wavee @lovelyygirl8 @lovelyypythoness @timmychalametsstuff @sage-ove

#slytherin boys x you #slytherin boys #mattheo smut #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle angst #smut #slytherin #lorenzo berkshire imagine #fluff imagines #mattheoriddle

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just-a-creep-babe · 25 days ago

Note

Are your requests still open? I'm not sure about your time zone so I hope it's ok if I ask how would you think relationships with the creeps would be realistically? Like how would Jeff, Masky, Ej, and Ben act if they were real and actually interested enough to date someone? I was just interested in your interpretation since I really enjoy how you write them! ✨

I feel like I’ve maybe gone over a few of these points before but I can’t remember for certain 😬

Either way, I hope none of these were too repetitive!! And tysm!! 🥰🫶

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

Jeff the Killer

It’s no secret this guy’s crazy egotistical

So as soon as he sees someone he’s interested in, it's like he just needs to have them

They’re an ego boost; a prized trophy that further proves he’s better than everyone else

He almost doesn’t see them as a full person, but more of a commodity

Really, it doesn’t matter whether or not they want the relationship—as far as he’s concerned, he knows what’s best for them

And, coincidentally, what's best for them is him

He's a super controlling partner

Literally the embodiment of your body, my choice

Part of him expects his s/o to pliantly conform themselves to his every whim and desire

But the other part secretly thinks it’s super hot when they talk back to him

He's always liked the feisty ones, and it gives him the perfect excuse to put them back in their place~

In terms of emotional intimacy, his partner really shouldn't expect much

Jeff mentally blocks all of that kind of stuff out, and he thinks people who are open about it are weak

At best, he'll ignore his partner's efforts to connect with him on a deeper level

And at worst, he'll belittle them and use their vulnerabilities against them as a manipulation tactic

So it's overall best to keep some amount of emotional distance from him, in all honesty

The plus side to dating Jeff is that he's super protective

To the point of it being suffocating, so it isn't all that much of a positive, but I digress

Since he sees his partner as his possession, and since he's very protective of his things, he'll be damn sure nothing bad happens to them

And everyone better damn well know that they're off-limits or he will remind them by carving it into their skin

At the end of the day, Jeff primarily wants sex, first and foremost

And secondly, he wants someone that'll inflate his ego; either by being a pretty piece of eye candy by his side or by constantly gushing over him and blowing smoke up his ass

Deep down, he does want someone to care for him—someone he could love and trust, and who would protect him as much as he'll protect them—but he's way too emotionally damaged to even admit he wants that

He definitely doesn't make it easy to love him

BEN Drowned

Honestly, a relationship with him would be relatively chill

All he really wants is someone to fuck and hang out and game with

He does have a dark side, which manifests as possessive/obsessive behaviors and manipulative tendencies, and a good dose of neediness to top it all off

But it's to be expected

And, really, if his s/o just behaves and gives him all of their love and attention, then it's not like they have anything to worry about, anyway

As long as they game with him every night for at least 3 hours, have sex with him a minimum of 4 times a week, answer his texts within 10 minutes, and never spend more time with someone else, then everything's fine

He's prone to spying on them through their devices, especially if they don't do the above-mentioned things to his liking

And he'll use anything in his arsenal to ensure that they stay wrapped around his little finger

Like I said, super needy and manipulative

He'll fuck with their self-esteem, their worldview, their perception of the people around them until they can't imagine living without him

He'll become their world; he wants their life to revolve around him and him only

And if things don't go his way, it'll only get worse

Much worse

He's not above eliminating anyone he's jealous of, or even isolating his partner until they don't have a choice but to accept him back into their lives

He will fully turn psycho if he, for whatever reason, thinks that he might be losing his partner

But until that time comes, until the relationship reaches that point, it'll all be smooth sailing

He's smart enough to know just the right amount to push things to keep the relationship afloat for as long as possible

Which, despite being one of the chillest partners on a surface level, quickly makes him one of the most dangerous ones when things go south

He'll stop at nothing to keep the person he likes

And his partner will never be any the wiser of the darkness that lurks behind his easy-going intentions

They better hope they never reach the tipping point that reveals his true nature

Eyeless Jack

He's actually the chillest creep to be in a relationship with

Unlike the others, Jack firmly clings to those remaining scraps of humanity within him

If he hadn't been transformed, he'd be a perfectly fine and well-adjusted member of society

So a relationship with him would be like, well, any other relationship with a normal person

He has his emotional hangups here and there, and he isn't perfect; he struggles with communicating his feelings and intentions, and he can close himself off when he's following down

But that's par for the course as far as relationship difficulties go

The biggest issue that'll come up that probably doesn't have a Buzzfeed article to help you out is dealing with his demonic side

But even then, he's gotten fairly good at controlling himself, so it'll never be too disruptive—as long as his partner keeps an open mind about the whole thing

He'll be more possessive, and he'll get jealous more easily, but he'll never lash out at his partner because of it

If anything, if he smells someone on his partner, he'll just want to scent them—so all he needs is some physical contact to reassure him

He can get insecure about his nature from time to time, but again, a bit of reassurance goes a long way

Honestly, the most dangerous thing about dating Jack is probably his urge to mark his partner

Marking a human has a few... complications, to say the least

He's naturally bound to get more possessive and much more sexually needy, which could lead him to injure his partner

But, you know, that's just part of the risks that come with dating a demon hybrid

A relationship with Jack has its ups and downs, which honestly might get more intense than a regular human relationship, but even then, a lot of humans are far crazier than Jack, even despite his nature

Even though he deals with some pretty powerful entities, he'll make sure his s/o is safe at all times—no one will ever be able to hurt them

And even though he's a cannibal, he'd probably be too protective of them to take a nibble out of them

Like, sure, he'd love to taste them—and he'd be willing to bet they taste divine—but even if they'd be open to trying it, he wouldn't want to risk it

Overall? 10/10, can not recommend dating this man enough

Masky

Masky's very hot and cold in a relationship

The stress of work combined with the physical and mental strain of being in Slender's proximity all the time does not make things easy for him

He's prone to lashing out, closing himself off, abusing whatever substance he can get his hands on, and generally spiraling out of control

Which does not make it easy for his s/o

Since Slender took an interest in him when he was still fairly young, he's almost always had symptoms of the Slender Sickness, so he's not super experienced with long-term relationships

Meaning that alongside dealing with his mood swings, his partner will also have to guide him through the ups and downs of dating

Which is just a whole extra set of difficulties his s/o will have to face

Being in a relationship with Masky really isn't easy

But the thing is, when things are good with him, they're really good

It's like he only knows how to operate on extremes; his lows are incredibly low and his highs are intoxicatingly high

When he's on a high, he'll make his partner feel like they're on top of the world

Nothing can get in the way of pleasing his partner; not time or money or even the boundaries of the law

He'll shower them with attention and affection, he'll take them on once-in-a-lifetime experiences—he'll make them feel truly heard and loved

Their connection will be like none other; he'll make them feel like they've conquered the world together

But when he's on a down, honestly, his partner might just be better off ignoring him until he gets better again

Which could take weeks or even months

But ultimately the distance will likely be better than being around him when he's going through it

Because although he isn't proud of it, he may get violent and even abusive without necessarily meaning to

And once he snaps himself out of it, he'll be upset to the point where it'll make him spiral even lower

And once he's over it, he'll be right back to gift and love-bombing them all over again because it's his way of apologizing and making sure he won't lose them

As great as things could be with him, and as addictive as he might get, his partner should keep some kind of distance from him—for their own sake

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #masky #ben drowned

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kaleldobrev · 1 year ago

Text

I Want Them To Hear

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ben wants to make sure Hughie knows what it actually sounds like when the two of you have sex. In other words, Ben makes damn sure Hughie gets yet another night of no sleep because of the two of you.

Original Prompt: Requested by @k-slla | I loved your last post (poor, poor Hughie 😂). I would love to read a sequel, where SB& reader DO keep everyone up, for other reasons 😏 (if you're up to it 😊) x Kerly

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Cursing (23x), Smut (Oral - M&F receiving, Fingering, Unprotected Sex - P in V), Implied p*rn watching, Hughie getting scarred for life (again), Semi-Public sex (living room)

Authors Note: Before you read this make sure you read A Simple Misunderstanding first | I think 23 curse words is a new record for curse words for me (21 out of them are the same too) | I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you all enjoy it! | 18+ only please | MDNI | If you want to request something, just send me a message! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You looked over at the clock that was above the fireplace in the living room, and it was almost midnight, and you weren’t the least bit surprised that you weren’t even tired. Although you didn’t have a good sleep schedule before you joined the Boys (as you were a full-time college student when you joined the group), your sleep schedule somehow became even more jacked when you joined; something you didn’t think was even remotely possible. You had found yourself going to sleep at three, four, sometimes five in the morning, or not even going to sleep at all – a constant flow of energy drinks and coffee to keep you going.

The last couple of days though were unusually uneventful, verging on normal, like there wasn’t some kind of revenge war going on. The closest thing that had been kind of eventful was Hughie’s outburst this morning over breakfast, accusing you and Ben of having sex which kept him up – something that actually didn’t happen between you and Ben even though it was something that you did want to happen last night. Due to his little outburst though, the rest of the day was filled with a consistent flow of jokes (mainly at your best friend’s expense) that seemed to put everyone in a great mood (except Hughie of course). In a way, you did feel bad for him, but at the same time, his outburst this morning was unnecessary.

Your legs were currently in Ben’s lap, one of his arms draped over them as his other hand was lying on the arm of the couch with a remote in hand; the only source of light in the room coming from the television. As Ben flipped through channel after channel, you couldn’t help but stare at him as the shadows on his face changed with every single flip trying to find something to watch. “How is there so many channels and nothing to watch?” He asked, not even looking at you.

You shrugged your shoulders and he turned to face you. “I found plenty of things I’d watch. It’s not my fault you’re picky.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not picky. TV just sucks now.” He began, and you already knew where this conversation was going. It was about to turn into a ‘back in my day’ rant that you had heard practically every single day since you had met him. “Back in my day, TV was actually good.” Before you could interject he continued. “We didn’t have stupid reality shows about people who are famous for nothing.” You couldn’t help but agree with him on that one. “There’s 400 channels and only two of them are watchable.”

“And which channels does the almighty Soldier Boy deem watchable?” You asked, emphasizing the nickname.

“ESPN and TCM.” He answered without hesitation. You simply just rolled your eyes.

“Of course those would be the only two channels.” You mumbled, even though you knew he could hear you; there was no use in mumbling around him. “I love ESPN and TCM too, but there are other channels that are watchable Ben. How about FoodNetwork and HGTV?”

Ben scoffed. “Sometimes they’re watchable.”

“Okay. How about…” You thought for a moment, trying to think of a channel that Ben would possibly enjoy; then it hit you, causing a smirk to form on your face. “How about Skinamax?”

He looked at you with a confused expression. “What the fuck is Skinamax?” You let out a slight laugh, causing him to raise a brow. “What?”

“You don’t know what Skinamax is?” You asked. “Honestly, I’m slightly surprised.” You held out your hand. “Hand me the remote and I’ll show you.”

“Why can’t you just fucking tell me?” He asked, his facial expression annoyed.

“Because Ben, it’d be more fun to show you.” Your lips turned into a smirk. “Don’t you trust me?”

Again, your response earned yet another eyeroll from him. Of course I fucking trust you, he thought. What kind of stupid question is that? “Fine.” He said, handing you the remote.

“Okay, and why couldn’t you of just told me it was just fucking porn?” He asked, his tone sounding a little annoyed with you.

“Because, I thought it would be much more fun to show you.” You turned away from the television and looked at him. “You’ve watched porn before though right? Like, I’m assuming you have cause well…you’re…well you.”

He looked at you briefly before looking back at the screen again. “Have you watched porn before?” He mumbled, mocking your tone. “Of course I fucking have.” He said, a tad louder and a bit more annoyed sounding. He turned back to face you. “Who hasn’t watched porn before?”

You shrugged. “Fair point.” You said. “You know…” you began, as you started inching your way closer to him. “As much as I’d love to continue watching this…interesting movie. There is something I’d much rather be doing.”

He smirked, his full attention on you now. “And what’s that Sweetheart?”

“Well, you did make me a promise this morning.” Your voice was low, your hand inching closer to the hem of his pants.

“I made you a lot of promises this morning.” His voice was low, but not nearly as low as yours.

“But there was one in particular.” Your fingers started slipping into the waistband of his pants as you maintained complete eye contact with him.

“You going to tell me or is it more fun to show me?” He asked, your hand made contact with his cock and you gently wrapped your hand around him. Ben slightly groaned at the contact.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “I think you know the answer.” You whispered.

Without a second to waste, he pulled his sweats down giving you slightly better access as you started moving your hand up and down. You went slow, knowing that it was killing him inside with the pace that you were going at. As he was about to open up his mouth to protest the slow pace, your head went down and you started sucking him off; a slight taste of pre-cum on your tongue. Your hand and mouth started going in tandem with each other; no longer focused on his face, but focusing on what you were doing. “Fuck,” he groaned, and he threw his head back into the couch, enjoying the feeling of your mouth and hands wrapped around him, a feeling that he’d wanted since the moment he laid his eyes on you – despite him knowing how much you hated him at first.

You released him with a pop for a moment; your hand still going. But the loss of your mouth on him caused him to open his eye to look at you. “Ben, you need to be quiet. I don’t want the whole house to hear.” You stated.

Your words gave Ben an idea, and a smirk grew on his face. “Princess, I want them to hear.”

“You…you want them to hear?” Your voice a whisper. “Why?”

“Cause I want your little friend to know what it actually sounds like when the two of us fuck.” His words made you audibly gulp, and you barely even knew how to respond. Weirdly, the thought turned you on.

“Okay.” Your reply hesitant. Despite the slight hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his cock again; your mouth and hand working in tandem again.

As you worked, the sounds that were coming out of Ben’s mouth weren’t remotely quiet; a mixture of groaning and moaning. His hand gripped your hair slightly, pulling at it gently, messing it up. Between him basically playing with your hair as you blew him, and the sounds that he was making; it encouraged you to pick up the pace a little, and you yourself felt yourself starting to get increasingly more wet. “God, your fucking mouth.” He groaned. He bucked up a little, and when he did that he let himself go; releasing himself into your mouth and down your throat. You usually weren’t a swallower but for him, you made the exception.

Once you helped him ride out his orgasm, you released him with a pop; the two of you making eye contact again. “Lay down Princess,” he demanded, “and spread those legs of yours,” he grinned.

“Yes Sir.” You said, probably a little bit too loud.

The nickname you gave him just made him grin even wider, slightly more evil looking. “Can’t wait to wreck this pussy of yours.” He said, completely pulling your shorts down in one swift movement. He eyed your bare pussy for a moment before smirking up at you, cocking a brow. “Went commando today uh?” You bit your bottom lip, nodding. “Sweetheart, if I would have known, I would have fucked you on the kitchen table this morning just to prove a point.”

“Be-” before you could speak, his point finger started to slowly dip inside of you. “Fuck.” You moaned, slightly whispering.

“You’re fucking soaked Princess.” He said, smugness in his voice. “All this just from blowing me uh?” He added a second finger as they both started going into you a bit deeper, a slight curve to them.

“Y-yes.” You moaned out; his two fingers starting to move slowly in and out of you, a similar pace you had done earlier on him.

“So, tell me this Sweetheart. Are you generally just a cock slut, or are you just a slut for my cock?”

The pace of his fingers started to pick up gingerly; no words were forming in your brain to even respond to his question. He was barely doing anything to you, and you were slightly embarrassed by the way your body was reacting to his touch, but at the same time, he actually knew what he was doing – hitting you in all the right spots. “Just…Fuck…Just for yours.”

“Just for mine what?” He added a third finger, curling them inside of you. All you could do was moan; verging on the sound of pornographic. “Need you to use your words Princess. I know how much you like to talk, don’t hold back on me now.”

“Fuck me…” you mumbled, feeling a heat rising in your cheeks. “I’m only a slut for your cock Ben.”

He clicked his tongue a few times, seeming unsatisfied with your answer. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t quite hear you.” The smugness in his voice returned, knowing that he could hear you. You knew what he really meant: your friends couldn’t hear you.

With a small groan, you spoke just a tad louder, hoping it would be loud enough to satisfy him. “I’m only a slut for you cock Ben.”

He grinned. “There it is.” He sounded so proud of himself.

“Ben I’m about to –” you came, not even finishing your sentence, your orgasm practically exploding out of you. Despite the amount of times you’ve had sex, this was the first time you could actually say that you had a mind-blowing orgasm. He continued to move his fingers in and out of you rapidly as you rid out your orgasm.

“Fucking beautiful,” he praised. “I’ll never get fucking tired of seeing a woman cum.”

As soon as you came down from your high, he removed his fingers from you, licking them clean; and you already hated the feeling of not having his fingers inside of you. “Fuck.” You breathed out, your chest rising up and down as you tried catching your breath.

Ben chuckled. “You good there Sweetheart?” He sounded amused.

“Yeah…So…Good…” your voice trailed off.

“Good, cause I’m not done with you just yet.” Before you had the chance to respond, he pulled you by your ankles, sliding you across the couch. Pulling you into his lap, both of your hands rested on his chest, slight heat radiating from it, which strangely felt good against your palms.

Your legs were spread open wide enough that you were able to straddle him; your knees on either side of his thighs resting on the couch. Without any kind of direction from him, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, tossing it to the side, leaving you completely naked; you felt even more vulnerable somehow than you did before. You leaned in, your hands on either side of his face now and kissed him; his hands automatically gripping your hips. Based on the tightness of the grip you knew you’d have bruises, and honestly – you couldn’t care less, you wanted him to leave marks.

The both of you moaned into the kiss, and you started rocking your hips gently, trying to obtain some kind of friction. He smirked against your lips. “Someone’s a little needy.” He teased. “You just came Sweetheart.”

“Yeah but…” You kissed his neck, and leaned in close to his ear, “that was on your fingers, not on your cock.”

“And you say I have the dirty mouth.” He laughed a little, removing his hands from your hips. You sat back on his thighs as he took one of his hands and wrapped it around himself, pumping it in his hand a few times. “Going to fill that pussy right up.”

“Please.” Your tone slightly begging.

“So cute when you beg.” He said, his tip teasing your entrance. “You ready for me Sweetheart?” You nodded and placed your hands on his shoulders, almost as if you were bracing yourself. As he started pushing himself inside of you, you let out a long moan, shutting your eyes. “Fucking love your moans.” He complicated, as he watched your face slightly contort. “Taking me so well too.” He chuckled. “Really are a cock slut uh?”

“Only for you.” You breathed, his cock almost fully inside of you.

“Damn right only for me.” His voice sounded slightly possessive; and the tone turned you on more than you thought it would, and he felt you clench around him. “You like that uh?” You nodded in response. “Good.”

As you started moving your hips, Ben started placing kisses between your breasts, every so often taking one of your nipples into his mouth. The noises you were making were pornographic sounding again; no words really escaping your lips, just moans. Your hand gripped the back of his head, clutching at his hair. “Ben,” you moaned, shutting your eyes as you continued to rock your hips.

He attached his lips to your neck now, slightly nipping and sucking on the skin. Not only were there going to be marks on your hips, there were going to be marks on your neck now too. “Mine,” you heard him mumble; but you weren’t entirely sure if you heard him properly.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, and he removed his lips from your neck. “You heard me,” his voice possessive again. “You’re mine now.” He said. You weren’t sure if this was bedroom talk or he actually did mean that you were his, and his alone. Either way, you loved the sound of being his – despite the slight alpha/misogynistic undertone to it.

“All yours.” You agreed. He took two of his fingers and started rubbing your clit, trying to get you closer and closer to the edge. You felt the pressure start to build, and you were insanely close to coming again. “I’m so close.”

“Can’t wait to cum inside of you Princess.” His fingers started picking up the pace, and his hip movements were starting to get erratic – he was close too.

“Fuck.” You mumbled, your own movements matching his erratic ones. “I’m about to –” as you started to cum, his lips latched onto yours, and you moaned into his mouth.

“I’m right there with you.” He said, coming closely after you. The kiss deepened as the two of you rid out your orgasms; his fingers working lazily on your clit.

“Holy shit.” You said, essentially collapsing onto him. Your forehead rested on his shoulder as your chests were pressed up against each other; his arms wrapped around your lower back, his clock still buried inside of you.

“You alright there Sweetheart?” He asked, kissing the top of your head.

“Yeah just…” you started breathing a little heavy again. “Don’t have your stamina.” You laughed a little. “I’ll be okay.”

“Good. Cause I can’t have you dyin’ on me.” His tone was joking, but you knew that he would be devastated if anything were to ever happen to you. Because over the course of time he had known you, he had grown to deeply care about you; and it was something that surprised the both of you – hell, it even surprised the rest of the group.

"What the fuck!" You and Ben both turned and saw Hughie standing in the doorway of the living room; his facial expression looked as though he was about to blow a gasket.

Ben rolled his eyes out of annoyance. "Do you mind?" You gently lifted yourself off of him, grabbing a nearby blanket and quickly covered yourself and Ben, although the damage was probably already done.

"Yes! Matter of fact I do mind! This is the second night in a row that I woke up because of the two of you!" He yelled; and you could of sworn you saw a vain bulging from his neck. He was pissed.

Ben laughed, amused by Hughie's reaction. "Now you know what it actually sounds like when the two of us fuck. Should of kept your mouth shut this morning kid." He grinned, and gave him a wink.

"Seriously? You guys were loud because of what I said this morning?" Hughie's voice was now annoyed. Ben simply just shrugged at his question. "You are such an asshole."

Ben shrugged again. "Worse has been said."

“Hughie I –” you began, but Ben cut you off.

"But, I can promise you this," he got up from the couch, pulling up his pants in the process as he made his way toward Hughie. He placed a hand on his shoulder, looking him directly in the eyes, grinning. "You better get used to not fucking sleeping cause your friend has one hell of a pussy and mouth on her." You didn't need to see his face to know the absolute pleasure he had saying that to your best friend.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @zombie-freak If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys one shot #ben x reader #ben x you #the boys amazon #reader insert #female reader

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retrobutterflies · 4 days ago

Text

Ambrosia | billie eilish

Billie Eilish x Female!Reader

Summary: Your avoidant attachment style can only work for so long until it's time to face the music.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Bi panic, hurt/comfort, fluff

A/N: If you've gone to see her on tour, you and I are in a fight.

You had been acting off. You knew it. And you weren't a very good actress so you could tell your friends knew it too. But no one had said anything, at least not yet. You had tried to drop hints of work being stressful or your lease ending soon but they were halfhearted and pitiful attempts to camouflage your real turmoil.

You could tell Billie knew it too. Her eyes lingered on you a little longer when someone would say a joke and everyone would laugh and you would be quiet in the corner consumed by your thoughts. A few times she called your name to pull you back into the conversation, a quirked eye brow and side smirk barely concealing the confusion or concern lingering in her eyes. Sometimes it was a gentle nudge in the side or handing you a fresh drink to pull you back from your mind. And it would work for a while until you couldn't stop focusing on how close she was sitting to you on the couch or how every time she would laugh her body would lean into yours and you would feel her warmth and smell her perfume. And then you would be sucked right back into the buzzing thoughts of panic and fear and confusion and you would be plotting your escape route before you imploded.

Tonight was harder than usual. You had been in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping your third beer that was finally giving you a little buzz, softening your brain for the time being. Oliver had come up to you with an award winning grin and glinting eyes. He was a friend of a friend but he seemed to be at every party you were and slowly but surely you started talking and flirting every time you saw each other. You knew if you wanted someone to dance with or chat or make out in the bathroom you could find him and he would give you his charming smile and an enthusiastic yes.

Only tonight it was different. Everything had felt different since your startling realization on the floor of your room a month ago. You noticed him before he reached you and instead of the usual feelings of excitement or anticipation, all you felt was anxiety. Your stomach had been in knots on and off all night and suddenly at the sight of him they were back to full power.

"I thought I'd never find you," he mused, strolling up to you and leaning his torso against the marble counter top. "I thought maybe you were avoiding me."

You let out a soft puff of a laugh, taking a larger gulp of your beer before replying, "I'm avoiding everyone.”

He quirked an eyebrow, pushing back a brown tuft of hair out of his forehead. "For any particular reason?"

You pursed my lips, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, thinking about how to respond. "Just, tired, I guess," was your intelligent response.

"Just tired, you guess," he echoed, eyebrows raising further as he tilted his head at you. His eyes were piercing and you could feel him trying to peel back the layers of your newfound shell.

"Too tired to even dance with me?" he asked, giving you a soft, playful nudge in the side. You tried to give him a smile though you were sure it looked more like a wince.

"I'm sorry, Oliver, I'm just–" You struggled to find the words, the knots tightening in your stomach, "–out of it today."

He let out a hum, taking a sip of his IPA, and stared at you long and hard.

"Is this about a boy?" he questioned.

You winced but it only seemed to encourage him.

"So it is. C'mon, I'm not upset that you have a crush, I’m just upset its not on me," he joked, nudging you again. When you didn’t respond he continued.

"So," he repeated, "Who is it? I promise I'll keep it a secret."

You shook my head, taking another large sip of your drink like it could wash away the anxiety blooming in your chest.

"Is it Ben? You guys used to talk didn't you?" he continued, eyes now scanning the busy kitchen and through the archway peaking into the living room.

"Or Sebastian? I know he's always had a thing for you. He glares at me sometimes," he let out a chuckle.

"Oliver–" You tried to cut him off.

"Wait no, it's Griffen isn't it? God, I should've guessed that first."

"Oliver, stop, please," You put a hand up to rub the spot between your forehead that was starting to ache.

He looked back at you and frowned. "I get it, you don't have to tell me. I have been told I give good advice though," he said.

You looked up at him. His big brown eyes were sincere and there was a time when they used to make butterflies erupt in your stomach. But now it was like any fascination you had had with him before had puffed out like a candle.

"Listen, I appreciate that, but–" You let out a breath, trying to choose your words carefully, "this has nothing to do with a boy."

"You sure?" he replied, skeptical. Your stomach twisted again.

"I'm sure," You breathed.

He left you alone after that, strolling away to find his next playmate. You stood there for a while, people watching and sipping on your beer. It didn't take you long to notice Billie with a few of your friends, perched on a couch in the living room, a perfect view from the kitchen. Someone said something and she laughed, throwing her head back, hair glinting in the low lighting. You stared for longer than you should've.

And then she finally noticed you. Her eyes caught yours and her smile morphed into a softer more tentative one. The anxiety that had been appeased for the moment roared back to life and you felt your heart rate quicken to the point that you could feel your pulse in your neck. You looked away, clenching onto your near empty beer can before sliding it onto the counter. You looked up to see the far door to the balcony and before you could think your legs were taking you there.

It was surprisingly empty and the chill of the autumn air felt refreshing against your burning cheeks. You leaned your elbows on the metal railing, taking in a few deep breaths as your eyes scanned the glowing lights of the city skyline.

You felt like you were going crazy. Everything you had known about yourself had suddenly flipped on its head on a random Tuesday and now you couldn't function normally. You were overthinking everything. All of your relationships, all of your friendships, all of your actions. How could you have not known? How could it have taken you this long? Don't people usually know right away?

"Hey," her voice hit you like an electrical shock. You jumped slightly and usually this would've made her chuckle but you could tell she knew something wasn't right. "Sorry," she said, her voice a hair softer, "I didn't mean to scare you."

You finally turned to look at her as she was closing the sliding door behind her. Her eyes seemed cautious and she took slowed steps towards you like you were a frightened animal.

"No, it's fine. Sorry, I'm–" losing my mind, "just a little tired."

She came to stand next to you, leaning her arms on the railing as well, and nodded. A few pieces of dark hair fluttered in the crisp breeze and your eyes lingered for a moment. You took in her side profile, the slope of her nose, flush of her cheeks, the pinched wrinkle between her eyebrows. She was quiet for a while, eyes looking out at the city, seeing through it like it wasn't even there at all.

"You seem to be tired all the time now," she finally said, her voice low and soft. You could hear her attempt at light humor, trying break the tension that had settled between you as the weeks went on but you could read her well and you could see the worry etched on her face and feel the apprehension in her words.

"Yeah," was all you could muster to reply. Your mind flashed back to all of the plans you had turned down or cancelled on last minute under the ruse you were tired. You turned your attention back to the city, trying hard to focus your eyes anywhere but her face.

You could practically hear the thoughts buzzing in her head, all the words and questions she had for why you had suddenly sunk into yourself. And why you had suddenly started avoiding her. She let out a soft sigh. You could feel her gaze on the side of your cheek but you couldn't bring yourself to look at her.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked, voice even softer than before.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You weren't sure how to respond. Any wrong word and you might very well burst into tears.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" You replied. You tried to sound nonchalant but even you could hear the slight waver in your voice. You moved your hands to grip the railing, an attempt at grounding yourself so you didn't lose your resolve in front of her. You were already thinking about an escape route, maybe to the bathroom to cry or maybe straight out the front door where you could call someone to come pick you up.

She paused for a moment, staring at you. You could tell she was trying to read between the lines, hear the words you weren't saying. And you knew if you met her eyes she would be able to pull them from you in an instant.

"You know," she paused again, her eyes still boring into the side of your face, "usually I don't pry because you always come to me when you're ready but–"

She let out another sigh, finally pulling her gaze away and back towards the twinkling night. She tapped her fingers softly on the railing. You could hear her rings making gentle clinks against the metal. It was a tell tale sign she was nervous or agitated, or maybe both.

"You're worrying me a little." She took another breath. "And I just want to make sure you're alright because I can tell something is bothering you even if you're not ready to tell me what it is yet."

You could feel your eyes start to sting and your hands were starting to freeze from clenching the cold steel of the railing for so long but you didn't dare move them for fear their fidgeting would give you away. But your throat had tightened to the point that you weren't sure you could say any word without it sounding strained and threatening tears.

"And–" she started again, her voice taking on a slightly pained sound, "if I did something that upset you I'm really sorry. I know I can be a lot sometimes but I don't want that to make you uncomfortable or . . ." She trailed off, grimacing at her own words.

You finally plucked up the courage to look at her. She looked pained and you felt the anxiety in your stomach turn to dread. She looked so worried and it was obvious that your strange behavior had been affecting her for a while now. And somehow she knew she was the cause.

"You started acting strange after the last time we hung out and I–" she scrunched her face up in regret, "–didn't mean to do anything that would make you uncomfortable and sometimes I get too comfortable and I forget to check myself–" she let out a frustrated sigh. You turned your gaze away sharply.

Your mind spun back to that moment a month ago, both of you sitting on the floor of your room. You didn't even remember what you had been talking about but you remembered your stomach had cramped from laughing so hard. And your faces were so close together. And she had started playing with your hair, first brushing it behind your ear and then twirling a strand or two. And then her finger had brushed so lightly against your cheek once, then twice, then it travelled down your jaw then towards your neck and left goosebumps and tingles in its wake and then so suddenly like a bolt of lightening you had wanted her to kiss you.

Your whole life you had thought you only liked boys. You had only ever had crushes on boys and dated boys and then suddenly you wanted a girl and you had to double back through every interaction in your life to see if you had been deluding yourself, refusing to acknowledge this second side of you. And it was an earthshaking realization that you hadn't even known yourself and that you had been so blind to it.

And then the worst part about it was that it wasn't just any girl but it was your best friend. The most major, important, integrated person in your life and suddenly you had feelings for her and you had no idea what to do.

"I just–I didn't mean to let it get–" she cut herself off, letting out another frustrated huff.

You couldn't risk looking at her. Your eyesight was already blurring from the moisture building up in your waterline and you knew if you made a sound it would cause them to start falling, ruining any last shred of dignity you had left.

You could feel her gaze on you again, penetrating and heavy and from the corner of your eye you could see her shoulders sag and her head dip slightly.

She was quiet for another few seconds before murmuring a quiet, "I'm sorry."

It made your heart clench painfully and you wanted to turn to her and reassure her that nothing was her fault and you were just dealing with your own inner turmoil but you could already feel a few tears escaping your eyes and rolling hot and fast down your wind-bitten cheeks.

She took your silence as rejection and pulled back suddenly from the balcony. "I'll, um, leave you be for a little. If, uh–" her voice sounded pinched and low and you could picture the look of defeat on her face and it made you feel like throwing up.

"If you need a lift home, just, uh, let me know," she murmured.

She turned around and took a few steps to the door, hand resting on the handle. You turned to look at her, sudden panic and desperation clawing at your neck at the thought of her leaving even though a second ago that was all you had wanted.

"Bil–" Her name got caught in your throat that had tightened so much you felt like you were choking.

She turned quickly, shock filtering across her features as she noticed the tears.

"Are you crying?" her voice held a quiet tone of surprise but it was enough for the rest of the tears you had been desperately holding back to break free.

You cupped your hands over your eyes, a hiccup of a sob leaving your lips, and pressed your sleeves into your eyelashes in a piteous attempt to dry up your tears. You heard her whisper your name before you felt her in front of you.

"Please don't cry. I didn't realize–" Her hands went to your shoulders, squeezing slightly before pulling you forward until you could feel her torso pressing against yours and feel her arms winding around your body.

It was useless fighting your emotions. They had always won before. It was silly of you to think you could beat them now. You felt yourself sink into her, your hands moving to wind around her neck, pressing your cheek against her warmth.

"I'm–I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were so upset. I–" she sounded like she couldn't find her words, still surprised by your reaction. Her arms tightened around you, one of her hands reaching up to cup the crown of your head.

She dragged her hand down the back of your head, fingers raking through your hair, brushing against your scalp. We stood there for a while, your tears soaking into the sleeve of your shirt, her delicately stroking your head, dolling out a few hushed apologies even though there was nothing for her to be apologizing for.

Finally, when your choking whimpers and nearly ceaseless tears quieted down, she pulled back. She pulled her sleeve over her hand and pressed it gently against your cheek and with slow and deliberate movements she wiped away the wetness on your face. It was an intimate enough gesture to bring more tears to your eyes but she tutted at you.

"Come on, baby. I don't want you to run yourself ragged," she cajoled though her voice was still hushed and the worry never left her face.

'Baby' hit you right in the chest. She had called you that before, and more often in recent memory, and though it had always made you feel warm it had never quite knocked the breath out of you like now.

She swiped her thumb over your eyelid, then the other, brushing the new tears from your lashes. Then she swiped the delicate skin under your eyes, once, twice, maybe a third for good measure. You couldn't tell where the flush in your cheeks from the cold stopped and the blush began. Her eyes now held yours and in the darkness their hue was almost as dark as the deepest part of the ocean and you could see the lights of the city glittering in her irises like she had plucked all of the stars from the sky and sprinkled them in her eyes. And for a second time you were breathless.

"Why don't I take you home?" she breathed, eyes now flittering around your face.

You wanted to reply with something witty, something to ease the tension even a hint but you couldn't find your words. All you could do was give her a nod. She held out her hand to you and like it was second nature you took it. Her rings were cool against your skin but her hand was warm and soft and she gave you a reassuring squeeze before gently tugging you back inside the apartment.

She didn't bother to say goodbye to anyone. You were sure she was doing it for your sake. You knew you looked like a mess. Her car was parked on the street and she opened the passenger door for you and waited until you were seated before shutting it and going towards the driver's side.

She didn't say anything, only turned the radio on to a comfortable buzz before starting in the direction of your apartment. You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of the window and shut your eyes tight, trying to take in the small moment of peace before you knew you would have to finally explain yourself. You could feel her heavy glances and for a moment you swore she was going to reach out to touch you but she didn't and soon enough you were pulling into the parking garage of your apartment.

She pulled into one of the designated spots for your unit, the other one reserved for your roommate. It was essentially hers since you didn't have a car and the familiarity of her pulling in like normal when she hadn't done it for a month had your heart clenching again.

The elevator ride was quiet as was the walk to your unit. When you opened the front door, your roommate and her boyfriend were cozied up on the couch, watching the newest slasher flick. You had calmed down enough to offer them a pleasant greeting as you took your shoes off and they turned their attention from the glowing TV to respond. You could see the peaked interest on your roommate's face at the sight of Billie standing next to you who she hadn't seen since that fateful day.

"Let us know if we need to turn the volume down," your roommate said and you gave her a small smile before leading Billie down the hall and to your room, shutting the door behind you.

For the first time ever, she looked somewhat lost being in your room. You were so used to her sprawling on your bed, borrowing your clothes without needing to ask, using far too much of your body wash when she took a shower and now she was lingering by the door, arms crossed over her chest like she was too scared to touch anything. You dropped your bag onto your desk and sunk down to sit on the bed. You patted the spot next to you.

"You can come sit," You said, before adding, "If you want."

She relaxed slightly and nodded, shrugging off her jacket onto your desk chair before taking the space next to you. You sat there in a thick silence. You opened your mouth to speak but your courage was depleting at a rapid rate and your eyes kept flashing back to that moment a month ago, seeing you both like ghosts sitting on the floor in front of you. She finally broke the silence first.

"I just want to say that," she took a steadying breath, eyes focused on her hands that were wringing nervously in her lap, "I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable and I'm sorry that I overstepped a boundary."

You let your eyes wander over her face. Her brows pulled together, furrowing slightly as she thought back to that day.

"I know you don't have those feelings and I–" she shook her head, pieces of dark hair falling into her face making her brush them back behind her ears.

"I shouldn't have let myself get close like that. It wasn't fair to you," she admitted, letting out an irritated exhale.

She was quiet again. You weren't sure if she was waiting for you to answer or trying to find the words to keep going. You felt your pulse quicken as you stared at her. She lifted her head and her eyes met yours and again you were breathless. She had always been beautiful but you had never let yourself view her as anything more than a friend. And now looking at her you had the crushing realization that you didn't think you could ever view her as anything but anymore.

"Billie," your voice was quiet and you didn't realize what you were going to say until the words were spilling out of your mouth.

"I love you."

She blinked at you, eyes wide and flickering between yours. And then she grimaced. You couldn't help but feel the wash of rejection settle in your chest.

"Don't say that," she said, shaking her head and looking like you had just slapped her.

"Why?"

She stood up abruptly, like being close to you was suddenly suffocating her. She crossed her arms back in front of her chest, eyes looking around your room but focusing on nothing.

"Because you don't mean it," she muttered, her eyes following the myriad of pictures and polaroids you had decorated over your wall, her face smiling back in more than a few of them.

"What do you mean?" You almost laughed at the absurdity. "Of course I do."

She shook her head again and turned back to look at you and you were taken aback at the sudden anger swirling in her eyes.

"You fell of the face of the planet four weeks ago," she snapped. Her eyes were narrowed and her thick liner made them look darker than normal.

"You barely answered my texts. I thought I had done something horrible. And then when I realized what I had done you were no where to be found for me to apologize. You iced me out so fast it made my head spin!"

You couldn't help but gape at her. She bit her lip, her eyes now glimmering with her own tears threatening to fall. The sight of them made your insides coil up so tight you almost felt faint.

"One second we're talking about the future, laughing at the possibility that we could ever live apart from each other and the next second you're gone like I was suddenly nothing to you," she exclaimed, her voice raising in a mix of anger and pain. A couple stray tears rolled down her cheeks and she angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"You can't just leave me like that and then . . . and then–" she let out a shuddering breath, "say you love me."

You felt your tears resurface, stinging against your lashes as you stared at her. Guilt was wrapping around you like vines and you couldn't believe you didn't realize how much you had hurt her from pulling away like that.

"And it's not fair because you don't even mean it. Not–" she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment like she could force her tears back.

"It doesn't mean the same thing to you,” she finally met your eyes, "Not in the way that it does to me."

"Billie, I–" You felt your breath get caught in your throat, "I'm so sorry."

She stared at you for a painstakingly long moment before the anger seeped out of her and was replaced by dejection. She sunk down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"No–" she rested her forehead against her knee, her face now hidden from your gaze, "I'm sorry. I just–You'd think at this point I'd be able to deal with it better, you know? But it doesn't seem to get any easier."

You got up from your spot on the bed and sunk down to the floor with her.

"You have feelings for me," You suddenly realized, eyes scanning her as if you were trying to see what you had been missing all this time.

She let out a humorless laugh. "Brutal, isn't it?”

She chuckled again, raising her head to rest her chin on the top of her knee.

"You don't even like girls. And I can't seem to like anyone but you," she admitted, her voice rasping at the end. It sounded like she had accepted her fate long ago and you couldn't help but feel the pang of regret in your chest at wishing you had realized this so much earlier.

"I tried to make it go away. But sometimes I would just let myself pretend just for a second that you felt the same way," she let out a heavy breath.

"The last time I was here, I just, I let myself pretend a little too long and I got carried away."

She met your eyes and a few rouge tears dropped down her cheeks. Instinctively, you reached out and brushed them away, cupping her face and swiping your thumbs across the swells of her cheeks. She closed her eyes and you watched her face relax for a fleeting moment before the anguish was creeping back in again.

"You can't do that," she whispered, eyes blinking open as she pulled her face out of your hands. "You're only gonna make it worse."

We stared at each other for a few moments, the air heavy and thick with emotion. But you could feel your resolve strengthening after she bared her heart to you. You figured it was only fair to do the same.

“I love you,” You repeated, this time more firm than the last.

She winced again like the words were painful to hear.

“I mean it,” You said, “I love you.”

She shook her head, not believing your words or maybe thinking you didn’t understand her.

“You don’t,” she denied, opening her mouth to retort again but you cut her off.

“I do,” you insisted. “Please, just–Let me explain.”

She closed her mouth, blinking at you before giving you a short nod.

"I grew up in a very traditional household," you started, taking a wavering breath to ready yourself. "My whole life I was surrounded by nothing but heterosexuality. My parents, my relatives, all of my friends. And I had always liked boys but it had never crossed my mind that I might like girls too."

"And when I met you I knew you were going to be so special to me. It was kind of frightening how quickly we grew attached. But I had always valued my close friendships with girls that I just–" you shook your head, eyes straying to your hands nestled in your lap, "I hadn't realized that sometimes my feelings went beyond the scope of platonic."

"But last month, when you were here and we were talking I . . . I had this sudden realization that I wanted you to kiss me.”

You looked up to see her eyes boring into you. She kept so still like she was worried one wrong move and you would close back up.

“I had to . . . comb back through my life to make sense of it. I didn’t realize–I thought you just knew. I thought it was so crazy of me to only realize now and . . . how stupid could I be for not knowing I felt like this.”

You shut your eyes, thinking back through all those memories you had replayed over and over again.

“And then I thought back to moments between us,” you let out a shaky exhale, feeling your eyes sting, “How close we get, the things we talk about. How I don’t let anyone do the things you do. How I always look to you first for anything.”

You could feel her penetrating gaze even with your eyes shut.

“And then I just . . . I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Your friendship is so important to me but I didn’t know how to be around you without confronting these new feelings. And I couldn’t,” you winced, letting out another shaky sigh, “I couldn’t bare the thought of losing you because of them.”

It was so quiet for a moment you thought maybe she had left. But after a few beats of silence you heard her shuffle towards you and then slowly her arm curved around your back and she was pulling you into her.

“You could never lose me,” she said so softly it was nearly a whisper, her voice thick with emotion.

You bit your lip hard to stop it from trembling. Her other hand found your face and cupped your cheek, nudging you to look up at her. You opened your eyes to be met with her anguished expression, eyes glossy in the dim lighting, eyeliner smudged at the sides.

“And you’re not stupid,” she said, brows furrowing further.

“But how could I not have known–”

“That doesn’t make you stupid. There’s no calendar for this shit,” her thumb danced softly over the plush of your cheek, so light, so delicate, you couldn’t help but lean into it.

“So you believe me?” you finally asked after another bout of silence.

“That you love me?” she questioned, a rasp in her tone. You nodded.

She moved her hand to stroke back your hair from your face, thumb lingering on my hairline as she brushed back the soft baby hairs.

“Yes,” she finally conceded, eyes roaming around your face like this was the first time she was able to openly admire it. Her face drew closer and you could feel the warmth of her breath graze your lips.

“You just can’t go cold on me like that again,” she breathed, her eyes so blue and captivating like this was some sort of spell she was weaving on you. “I felt insane.”

You let out a weak chuckle. She mirrored your smile, eyes straying to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, making her eyes meet yours again, “I really am.”

“I know, baby,” she replied.

That was all it took for you to lean in and kiss her. She took a sharp intake of breath, maybe in surprise, but her lips responded to yours in an instant. They were so soft, velveteen and silky, and you could smell her sweet perfume overwhelming your senses. And she tasted like honey and mint and ambrosia and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t kissed her before.

Her hand raked through your hair, curving around the back of your neck, massaging the tendon as her kisses grew deeper and sweeter. You felt your mind start to mellow into a hypnotic buzz where you couldn’t think much past her and her satin lips and her soft exhales fanning over your face. Her other hand slid around your torso, palm centering on the small of your back, before she was pulling you into her and up onto her lap.

“Fuck,” you breathed between kisses, wrapping your arms around her neck so you could press yourself in further.

Slowly her kisses strayed from your lips, tracing the edge of your jaw. She nudged her cheek against the underside of your jaw making your head lift so she could press fiery kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. You dug your fingers into her hair, tightening your hold when she found an extra sensitive spot making her let out a pleased hum against your skin that vibrated and tickled.

“Bil–” You could barely speak, so consumed by her ministrations.

She littered kisses on your neck and over your pulse point where you were sure she could feel how fast your heart was beating. You felt her grin against your skin, nipping softly before apologizing with a searing kiss. Your body was turning lax and her arms tightened around your torso, anchoring you to her.

Then her lips were moving back up, leaving a wake of tingles as they climbed before they found yours again. You kissed back eagerly, trying to convey everything you weren’t able to in words, your guilt, your fear, your worry, your adoration, your love. And she drank you in, evaporating the remnants of your anxiety and doubt.

It took you a moment to realize one of her hands had slipped under the back of your shirt, her palm warm and pleasing against your bare skin. She dragged her nails lightly down your spine and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sensation. You felt her smile against your lips and after pressing one, two, a third, another kiss she finally relented, pulling her head back so she could look at you.

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed. Hers were half-lidded and penetrating and her lips were a bright pink, bruised and swollen. Her free hand reached back up, pushing your hair back and stroking her fingers delicately along your cheek.

“I love you too,” she murmured, voice so soft you could’ve missed it.

A flood of warmth filled your chest and a blush rose on your cheeks and she seemed unable to stop herself from leaning in and pressing a kiss against the flushing skin.

“I really missed you,” you confessed, sighing in contentment as her lips lingered on your cheek.

“Not as much as I did,” she said, leaning back again so she could look at you. She rested her head back against the foot of the bed, looking at you low through her dark lashes.

“No I was going crazy,” you admitted and she let out a spluttering laugh. You smiled for the first time in what felt like forever, gaze lingering on her squinting eyes and the small dimple that appeared on her chin.

“Dude, I was out of my mind. I wouldn’t shut up about you. I literally wrote a fucking song because you were ignoring me,” she confessed.

“No way,” you laughed, delighted at the thought that she would ever like you enough to write a song about you.

“I did,” she affirmed, snickering, moving both of her arms down to rest behind your back, tugging you in again so you sat higher on her lap.

“Will you let me hear it?” you asked, moving your hands down to her neck, finding the soft baby hairs at her nape and brushing your thumbs against the sides.

“I was really in my feels,” she warned.

“That’s okay,” you said and she smiled at you so softly that you felt a swirl of butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Okay,” she said, biting her lower lip, eyes flashing back down to yours.

“Really?”

“Mhm, you just can’t make fun of me though,” she replied and you let out another soft laugh at the thought.

“I’ve never made fun of you in my entire life,” you said unable to stop your smile and she guffawed at you.

“Still a shit liar I see,” she retorted.

“I’ve never lied either,” you said, grinning and she squeezed your side making you let out a shocked giggle.

“‘No, I’m fine Billie. I’m just tired. Nothing is wrong and I’m not ignoring you’,” she paraphrased, poking fun now at your sorry excuses for avoiding her.

You groaned half in regret, half in embarrassment.

“I mean, it’s not entirely a lie. I was sleeping like shit,” you admitted.

She hummed, eyes seemingly now noticing the darker shadows lurking under your eyes, your makeup long gone from all of your tears.

“I was too,” she said, taking a deep sigh, “How do you think I had time to write a whole song?”

You laughed again and she smiled at you. All of the worry and sadness that had clouded her face for the past few weeks had finally left. She looked like she had her sparkle back and you felt breathless at the thought that it was because of you.

“Would you, um,” your eyes flickered between hers, suddenly nervous, “wanna stay the night?”

She let out an affronted laugh. “Did you think I wanted to leave?”

“I was just checking. I didn’t wanna push you or anything,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at her but unable to quell your smile.

“I know, baby. And I appreciate it,” she cooed, leaning in to kiss your cheek again.

“I like when you call me that,” you confessed, the words leaving your lips before you could even think to stop them.

“Yeah?” Her grin deepened and you nodded, your cheeks warm. She hummed again.

She stared at you for another long moment, eyes scanning your face, her hand reaching up to brush your hair back. Your eyes fluttered shut at the comfort.

“You’ll tell me next time when you’re this upset?” she asked, voice softer now.

You blinked open your eyes. Her worry was seeping back and you felt the guilt pool in your stomach again but you pushed it back, confident in the fact that you couldn’t ignore her again even if I tried.

“I promise.”

She stared at you long and hard. And then she leaned in and pressed another silken kiss to your lips.

“Good because otherwise I’m breaking down your door,” she mumbled against your lips and you couldn’t contain your laugh. And then she pressed in further, kissing away all the guilt and fear that lingered, replacing it with nothing but the touch of her lips.

A/N: If there are any spelling or grammatical errors no there aren't (me gaslighting you)

#billie eilish fluff #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish angst #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x fem!reader

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 10 months ago

Text

Bad Faith Part Two

Part One | Masterlist

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+. Minors, kindly get off my lawn.

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever. Read this over six times but there are probably twenty typos that I'll spot the second I hit post, so. Anyway! Welcome to part two of two!! Thank you for reading 💖

Length: 14.2k

Warnings: Angst; fluff! Huzzah!; Reader’s married surname is Hayward; reader is depressed for swaths of the chapter; unhealthy coping mechanisms; lovers to enemies to allies to lovers; explicit sexual content - vaginal sex, oral sex, hate sex, safe sex

Summary: Your life was four walls, a cruddy bed, rickety furniture. You spent too much time awake when you should’ve been sleeping; too much time reminiscing when you should have been moving on; too much time dwelling on the time that you spent with men in your life that probably wouldn’t spare you another thought.

“Ross. Mike Ross.”

“Cut the Bond schtick.”

“I’m a contender.”

“Not a chance. Besides, we’ve been over this; you’re Q at best.”

“Could do a lot worse than Desmond Llewelyn or Ben Whishaw—Hang on, you think you’re Bond?”

Harvey stopped, gesturing over his body sweepingly before scoffing, “Please.”

“Please is right,” Mike muttered, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You always go to this thing?”

“...I’ve been once or twice.” In truth, Harvey hadn’t been to the New York City Estate and Properties gala in years. He hadn’t had occasion or reason; the last time he had, he’d made sure that she wouldn’t be there before he’d agreed. Tonight his purpose was manifold—drink good champagne, eat good food, and warn Hayward off of pursuing his lawsuits against his client’s property.

His client. It wasn’t as simple as all that, but these days, he’d managed to separate her from the work. It was clinical—and clinical was exactly what he needed.

“Did you see the menu for dinner? I didn’t see a menu.”

“Get your fill of canapes. I’m talking to Hayward and then we’re going.”

“What?” Mike pouted. “But I thought we were staying for the ceremony.”

“You thought wrong. Keep your eyes peeled. Sooner we get this conversation over, the sooner we can get away from this den of cobras.”

“Never have a mongoose when you need one.” Mike nodded over Harvey’s shoulder. “Found Mrs. Hayward.”

“Thought she didn’t like you calling her that.”

“She doesn’t, but around here, it might be better to use that rather than use her maiden name and have someone ask me who the hell I’m talking about…You gonna talk to her?”

“What for?”

“So she at least knows what suit to look for when she wants to avoid you.”

Harvey’s chastising glare was met with a wide, smug grin.

“Come on,” Mike groaned. “You haven’t spoken to her in weeks.”

“And have you considered that that may be why things have been going so smoothly?”

“Fine—I’ll give you another reason you should say hi to her.”

“You better make it a good one this time.”

“Jessica is catching on to the fact that you haven’t touched this case with a ten foot pole.”

Harvey winced slightly as he swallowed the last of his champagne.

“Fine,” He grudgingly conceded, setting the empty champagne flute on a passing waiter’s tray. “Point me.”

“She’s at your two o’clock.”

Harvey turned accordingly, pushed out an annoyed sight—and then felt what breath he had left catch in his throat.

‘Stunning’ was the first word that came to mind, but in his heart, Harvey knew that it didn’t do her justice. For his lingering, abiding annoyance with her, and with them—with the whole goddamn situation—there were moments when Harvey remembered why he’d fallen in love with her in the first place.

She didn’t want to be there. Harvey didn’t need to ask to know that—it was common sense. But that didn’t stop her from showing her face, from being impeccably dressed, and maintaining what had to be a meticulously constructed poker face.

“...You do know what staring isn’t talking, right?”

Mike’s amusement cut into Harvey’s reverie, and he cleared his throat to refocus himself.

“Keep an eye out for Hayward,” Harvey ordered before he forced himself forward, slowly weaving through the crowd.

What the hell was he even going to say to her? Hi wasn’t going to cut it; Come here often? Was almost as stupid. How about something about her dress—Whether or not it was new? That had to be safe, neutral ground—

Harvey had been so focused on what he planned to say that he hadn’t clocked her turning to face him. He chalked it up to panic radar—her hype-sesitivity given the current situation. He stared. She watched. And then—

“Come here often?”

Damnit. Stupid, sure, but at least it wasn’t hi.

“...Annually, at least.”

Was it your imagination, or was Harvey…Nervous? At the very least, he seemed as confused as you were at the fact that he was talking to you.

“I’m a little surprised that you made a showing,” He admitted.

“I could say the same for you. Does Jessica have you prospecting clients to get back in the good graces of the real estate department at the firm?”

Harvey’s eyes narrowed with playful intrigue,and for a moment, you saw a flash of the man that you used to know—the man who gave you that same look when you slipped your panties off and tucked them into his jacket pocket to find later.

“What did Mike tell you?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, glancing around.

“Nothing impor—...Tant.” You trailed off, falling still and quiet as your eyes landed on Steven.

Well, he was hard to miss.

Standing at 6’3, with a manufactured tan, swimmer’s build, full head of gracefully graying hair, and veneers that made his smile look like a neatly arranged row of chiclets gum, Steven Hayward was the very picture of the kind of health that only wealth could buy. With the stress of the last few weeks, you knew that you weren’t looking your absolute best. You’d had so many sleepless nights; you’d swapped out your favorite catered meals in favor of cheaper alternatives, or dollar slices of pizza, or ramen from the bodega down the block from your apartment, pulled gently from beneath the cat that seemed to always be napping on the exact flavor that you wanted.

You were certain that Steven lost no sleep over the decision to divorce you, or to pull the rug out from beneath you. You expected him to be in tip-top shape—but you saw hints of his rage as he grew closer.

“Oh—Hell,” You mumbled, tipping your head toward Harvey. “You might wanna clear out.”

“You kidding? I’ve got a front row seat to the prize fight of the century.”

“Target acquired.”

You frowned at the sound of Mike’s voice, but you didn’t turn to look at him as you muttered, “Target?”

“Darling.” The term of affection oozed past Steven’s bleached-white teeth. He stopped just a couple of steps from you—not near enough to touch, but close enough to see the anger sparkling in his dishwater gray eyes. A pulse of vindication swept through your chest at the tense smile, and the tight pull of his jaw.

“Steven,” You greeted cordially.

“I’m surprised to see you this evening.”

“If I had a nickel.”

“Oh, but you do. Putting all of those properties up for sale, I expect you plan on having more than a few nickels.”

“What can I say? A girl’s gotta get by.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Have you considered unfreezing our joint account?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Anything but that.”

“Then wire me half.”

“You haven't earned half.”

It was meant to cut you down and lay you out, but you refused to bow to this man publicly when the other attendees must always hold you in such low regard as it was.

“I agree,” You offered, and before Steven could preen in his false superiority, you clarified: “I deserve more.”

Steven bristled, shoulders bunching tight.

“Perhaps I should just take this evening’s expenses out of that half.”

You furrowed your brow pointedly, shaking your head.

“Mmm…I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“Really.”

“Mm…N—...No—?”

“Perhaps you’ve been so busy hocking your clothes like a dog snuffling for scraps—” Your face flared with embarrassment as Steven pressed on: “But there was meant to be a reception at my penthouse this evening.”

My penthouse. If it had only been the two of you in that room, you may have slapped him. How had he been able to detach, to force you from his mind and his heart so quickly? Had he ever loved you? Had any man?

The heat of Harvey’s body suddenly seemed to flare just behind you.

“Ah!” You nodded sagely, “It’s all coming back to me.”

“What could have happened there, I wonder?”

“You must not have taken care.”

“Of what?”

Of me. “Of anything.”

Steven took you in for another long, cruel moment before he jutted his chin over your shoulder.

“Friends of yours?”

Ah yes. Your personal legal peanut gallery. You glanced back to confirm their positioning before raising your hand to gesture:

“This is Mike Ross.” The name seemed to knock something loose in Steven’s mind as he shook Mike’s hand.

“Ah, Mr. Ross. I saw your name on some documentation this morning.”

“You’re about to see it a lot more, Mr. Hayward.”

“And this is Harvey Specter.”

Your stomach lurched as Steve’s eyes widened slightly, lips curling into a smile.

“This is Harvey Specter?” He didn’t bother to hide his amusement as he proffered his hand. ”I didn’t realize I sent you the worst possible port in this storm.”

“You didn’t,” Harvey insisted, grasping Steven’s hand firmly. “You sent her to the best.”

“Try not to drop her this time. My arms aren’t open anymore.”

Your hands tightened where they were clasped around one another. You forced yourself to keep your gaze set stalwartly on Steven, rather than watch the contentious (and no doubt, painful) handshake that the two of them were sharing.

“Well,” You chirped. “This was a lovely little catch-up.”

“Yes,” Harvey chimed in, finally extricating his hand from Steven’s and tucking it into his pocket. “We must do it again sometime. Preferably at a deposition.”

“Maybe in court,” Mike added. You had to fight down a smile at the sudden swell of support, and a wave of warmth that swept through you. Steven’s eyes narrowed just a touch more before he nodded.

“I do hope you’ll stay for my speech.”

“Who’d you have write it for you this time?” You asked.

“I took a crack at writing it myself.”

If that was true, it was sure to be a mess and a half. You always had been the one to draft his speeches or remarks—or you paired down any drafts sent over by the agency’s PR department.

“I look forward to it.”

Steven gave you one last look before he turned away, slapping on his businessman smile as he went, and raising a hand to signal someone like a politician trying to garner votes.

“...Why didn’t you mention the forgery charges?” Mike asked.

“It’s too soon to tip our hand...What table are you sitting at?”

“Thirteen,” You sighed.

“Lucky number,” Mike muttered.

“Go change our place cards,” Harvey ordered. “Put us on either side of her.”

You whirled around to face him, stunned at the tight irritation pinching his features.

“So we are staying for dinner?” Mike grinned. Harvey blinked flatly at him before reiterating: “Go.”

You watched Mike duck through the crowd, heading for the dining room.

“Were you not going to stay for dinner?”

“I’ve gotta eat some time. Come on,” Harvey nudged your arm with his, “Buy me a drink.”

“It’s an open bar.”

“Good. Then it won’t break the bank.”

The press of Harvey’s warm hand to your lower back was far more steadying than it should have been, and it managed to dampen the enraged fire in your belly.

“How’s that good faith deposit doing, anyway?”

“I threw 98% of it into an HYSA.”

“Smart move.”

“I should’ve made moves like it sooner.”

“Better late than never.”

“I guess.”

“...You don’t have to stay for dinner.”

“We’re going to.”

“On either side of me as well, I’m flattered. I wasn’t planning on having guard dogs this evening.”

“As long as you don’t try to keep us on short leashes.”

“Depends on whether you plan on doing more barking or biting this evening.”

“I’ve barked enough for now.”

“Biting?”

“If you play your cards right, sure.”

You didn’t bother to hide your open shock at the blatant implication, but when you looked at Harvey, you found him giving you a surprisingly warm smile.

“Looks like speaking with Steven has put a little pep in your step, Mr. Specter.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“What did?”

Harvey leaned heavily against the bar, focus set elsewhere as he tried to catch the bartender’s eye.

“You and I both know that this is going to be a long road. I like a good fight.”

“You don’t say.”

“It’s important to me that you’re ready for it, too.”

You nodded a little. “It may also be prudent for us to keep that fight directed at Steven, and not toward one another.”

Harvey took the two proffered champagne flutes, passing you one and holding it up to cheers:

“I’ll drink to that.”

It wasn’t perfect right away. You and Harvey still butt heads from time to time. On the purchases that the judges ruled that you were able to move forward with, you disagreed over terms—purchase price, contingencies, negotiations. But the knots unpicked sooner and sooner, and you reached resolutions faster. Mike hardly had to intervene anymore. Harvey gave Jessica status updates openly, and you abidingly ignored the smug, self-satisfied smiles that she gave you as you left her office.

With the service and tenancy contracts, the two apartment building sales that aren’t mired in paperwork still chugged along slowly. You knew that it was protocol, but it was excruciating. You felt ill every time you got an email from Mike or Harvey, expecting correspondence that spelled disaster. Every little bit of good news only brought marginal relief.

You spent most of your days in your apartment, packaging clothing or jewelry that you’d sold online. You got your packages sent off by five in the evening, and the rest of your night was your own—though it often ended similarly. Your logical mind often gave over to your emotions in the evening, and you allowed yourself to slip into quiet, depressed oblivion. The methods varied—slurping down two packets worth of dollar-pack ramen, and chasing that with a few bottles of beer as one of your favorite shows played in the background; curling up in your bed and staring at the ceiling at 8 PM, and laying wide awake with your mind racing until the sun came up; hunting through property listings online and plotting a comeback that felt like it would never come.

You never had visitors. Aaron was so entrenched at work that you only got the odd text from him. Your former friends seemed to have further aligned themselves with Steven after his triumphant speech at the gala—during which he had gone out of his way to omit any mention of you from his historical record. You had avoided seeing much of Jessica outside of the office, certain that she would council you on a good divorce lawyer, or encourage you to begin dating, or level another lecture about the stupidity with which you had bungled your last marriage.

For as well as you knew she meant, you didn’t have the time or patience—and some little part of you, some stupid, naïve part that knew well enough that the war was already lost, was convinced that Steven would change his mind.

It was unlikely, considering the magnitude of his cruelty over the last couple of months, and further exacerbated by your actions before the gala. Steven would not let you back into his arms, his home, or his heart. You didn’t truly want to be let back into his arms, or his heart, but you missed his home. You had taken such care in the planning, the curation, the furnishing, the upkeep. You were proud of it. You had been happy, and comfortable, and so goddamn foolish.

Now you were tired, and lonely, and you spent so much of your day feeling stupid.

Sometimes, when the wind blew just a little too hard and rattled the flimsy windows, you let the sound of it cover your sobs against the paper-thin walls that connected you to your neighbor’s apartment (you’d learned just how much sound bled through when you first became privy to your neighbor’s light argument, which had then turned into a full-on shouting match. They’d sounded like they were in the same damn room with you, wall be damned).

It was one such sob session that you managed to hear someone knock on your door. You sniffled, shifting on your bed. You were certain that the sound was from next door, or that you’d misheard the rattle of the window. But when you heard the second, insistent round of knocks, the source couldn’t be mistaken. You sniffled, setting your beer aside onto the bedside table crowded with empties and pushing yourself off of the bed. You swiped haphazardly at the tears on your face as you walked over to it, calling out, “Alright, for fuckssake!” When a third round of knocks rapped against the door.

You threw it open, finally, wincing at the invasive flash of the flickering fluorescent hall light. You weren’t sure what was worse: the flickering, harsh strobe, or Harvey’s stunned confusion.

It may have been a tie.

“…What is it?” You mumbled.

“Have you been crying?”

“Little bit.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Getting there.”

“…Get dressed.”

“What?”

“Get dressed,” Harvey insisted, nodding over your shoulder. “We’re going out.”

“Harvey, I’m really not in the mood,” You sniffled.

“We won’t go far.”

“Then why are we going at all?”

Harvey opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a sudden crash! and the swell of yelling voices from next door. His eyes darted toward it before he nodded.

“I’m not listening to that all night.”

“Who the hell says you’re going to be here more than five minutes?”

Your heart stuttered as Harvey’s hands planted firmly on your hips, steering you back into your studio before he nudged the door shut with his foot.

“Get dressed. And hurry up.”

You weren’t sure what it was—his touch, his firm insistence, or your own distaste for your screaming neighbors—but you turned around and began dutifully rifling through one of your remaining trash bags of clothing.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a diner around the corner.”

“A diner? How down heel of you, Mr. Specter.”

“I can appreciate the simple things.”

You snorted, straightening with a pair of jeans and a sweater. “Since when.” You glanced guardedly toward him before you nodded him toward the door. “Turn around.”

“You can afford better than that place, you know.”

You didn’t answer him. Instead, you shoved a handful of cheese fries in your mouth and leaned back to chew with laborious slowness. You expected Harvey to fill the silence, but he didn’t. He just watched, and waited, and stared at you until you swallowed. You nudged the plate toward him, offering: “Want one?”

You avoided his openly chastising gaze, tired of the fact that it was the only look you get from most of the lawyers in your life these days.

“You have that good faith deposit.”

“I told you where it went.”

“The brownstone payment is on the edge of clearing escrow. Look for somewhere else to live.”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Steven isn’t going to weasel into every potential deal and hold it up.”

“Forgive me for my skepticism, but I don’t exactly have many friends in this city anymore.”

“...Are you planning on going somewhere else?”

You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t crossed your mind. There were cities here you could rebuild your life and your practices, places where you were sure Steven wouldn’t bother to try and strike down your attempts to rebuild your life.

“Maybe,” You admitted. “I liked Cambridge.”

Harvey’s lips twitched with a gentle, regretful smile. It was his turn to reach out and swipe a few fries and chow down.

“Realty up there is pricey,” You added. “Could make a polite killing on student housing.”

“How does one make a polite killing?”

“Decent rent and coin-operated laundry. Maybe some paid parking, a few overpriced but conveniently placed vending machines.”

“Redbull?”

“I was just thinking about snacks, but you know what, Redbull isn’t a bad idea.” You reached out, picking up a fry and drawing it through the splodge of ketchup remaining at the edge of the plate. “Why did you come over?”

“I wanted to let you know that the inspections are finished.”

“On which?”

“The properties that you didn’t know about.”

“Anything stand out?”

“A foundational issue on one of the apartment buildings, but it doesn’t cost enough that it should’ve stopped work.”

“What about the others?”

“Nothing that popped as catastrophic.”

“You have the print-outs?”

“In my car.”

“Why are they in there?”

“I was going to offer to take you for a drink, but you seemed to beat me to it.”

You scoffed, shifting in your seat. “Don’t get all high and mighty on me, Specter.”

“You do that often?”

“What, drink?”

“Yes.”

“Are you accusing me of having a problem?”

“I’m asking if you do that often.”

“Once in a while.”

“New for you?”

“Relatively.”

Harvey eyed you critically for a few moments before he nodded. “Call me the next time you want to have a drink.”

“So you can talk me out of it?”

“So you at least don’t do it alone.”

“I’m usually not in a talking mood when it happens.”

“We don’t have to talk.”

“Oh, please. As if you don’t love the sound of your own voice.”

“Call me anyway.”

You were quiet for a moment before you nodded. “You know, the thought of you dropping by may just be an effective suppressant.”

Harvey’s smile widened a little. “Do you want to put the other houses on the market?”

“I want to walk through the apartment buildings myself before I go through them.”

“What about the ones in the Hamptons and the Cape?”

“I’ll drive up.”

“And Gstaad?”

“A little trickier.”

“Could bill it.”

“I doubt it.”

“You could, under discovery.”

“This would not be covered under discovery.”

“How would you know that?”

“I’m sorry, remind me who used to quiz you for the bar?”

Harvey scoffed softly, averting his gaze to the diner counter. “Well, this may surprise you, but a few laws have changed since then.”

“And this may surprise you, but not only am I aware of that, I’ve also been pretty deeply entwined with lawyers since then. So I’m pretty comfortable making that assertion.”

“And this? You think I’m not billing for this?”

“Oh, I hope you are. I hope you bill for every second that it took you to walk up the steps to my apartment. I want Jessica to pay for my cheese fries. You know why?”

“Because it would kill her?”

“It would drive her nuts.”

“I can’t wait to give her the itemized total.”

“I await the enraged phone call.”

“You don’t have to walk me back up, you know."

“Sure I do. Gotta work off those fries. Besides, I’m billing for this until I officially drop you off.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging Harvey’s shoulder with yours. Your depressed, tear-ridden, sobbing buzz had worn off over the course of dinner, and you didn’t think that the mood would creep back in once you were alone again.

“I’ll walk through the apartment buildings tomorrow and see if I can get up to the Cape at some point in the next couple of weeks. The pictures and notes from the inspection look promising. If I dip into the good faith deposit, maybe I could get the Cape Cod house fixed up and sold before the summer.”

“Or you could keep it as a rental property.”

“Mm.” “You always liked the Cape in the winter…For some reason.”

“I kinda like when it’s all grey and gloomy…and quiet.”

“Be a good base for your Cambridge operation.”

“Oh, please,” You chuckled. “It’s not even close. The red line doesn’t exactly go all the way to Hyannis.”

The two of you slowed as you neared your landing, listening closely.

“...Think the coast is clear?” Harvey murmured.

“For now, at least.” You fished into your pocket for your keys. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Sure. Remember what I said.”

“I will.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

Anything. That was new. You nodded, gaze set on your keys as he turned to go back downstairs.

“...Harvey?”

“Yeah?” He stopped just a few steps away, and you had to scrounge up your courage to turn and look at him again.

“I don’t, um…” You swallowed thickly. “I’m gonna wanna talk about it.” You watched Harvey’s face shift with grim understanding.

“I don’t want to litigate that.”

“Isn’t that your job?”

“Not like this.”

“Not tonight,” You reiterated, “But…Sometime. Please.”

Harvey’s jaw went tight, but he gave you a short, firm nod before he turned away. You watched him round the corner, and listened until his footsteps faded and the front door opened downstairs.

The apartment buildings weren’t anything special. Stripped of most of their insulation, and with several of the windows already removed, the wind that pushed through them made the buildings sound like they were breathing. It was eerie, and chilly. You tightened your coat around yourself as you went from floor to floor, eyeing damaged pipes, areas where someone seems to have come in and rooted around for copper wiring, and the billowing plastic that marks off some doors that have been removed.

The paperwork on this building listed the purchase date as nearly a year ago.

A year ago, you and Steven had been discussing expanding your current operations. Maybe he hadn’t gotten sick of you yet. Maybe he’d bought you the buildings as a present and stopped work when things turned sour…Whenever that had been.

There had been signs, sure, but Steven always had been temperamental.

You pushed the thought away as you drew in a deep breath, turning toward the stairs. It wouldn’t do to overthink this just now. If needed, you could panic looking at the Hamptons, or Cape Cod…Or Gstaad, if you ever found a way to get to Gstaad.

You reached into your pocket as your phone buzzed, drawing it out to find an incoming call. You groaned, stomping your foot petulantly before you raised it to your ear.

“Jessica, I’m a little busy—”

“I need you to come into the office.”

Your fingers tightened around your phone as your palm began to sweat.

“What happened?”

“I’d rather discuss this in person.” “Jessica.”

“Come to the office.”

She hung up without another word. You swallowed thickly, lowering your phone and watching her call blink and then disappear. If she wasn’t willing to discuss it over the phone, whatever it was had to be very, very bad.

“Cheese fries?”

“Jessica,” You groaned, “Come on, there is no way that that’s why you called me here.”

“No, it isn’t. But I’d like to remind you that you should remain fighting fit and cheese fries are not the way to do it.”

“My life has fallen apart and dipped into a moderately humiliating place. I think I’m allowed to have a few cheese fries. Why did you tell me to come in.”

“I have someone that I would like you to meet.”

“I’m not going to start dating anyone now.”

“Well, we can attack that another time. This is for your defense.”

“Harvey’s on that.”

“Your divorce.”

“You know that I can’t afford a defense right now.”

“I don’t mind getting a start while you get the pieces in place.”

The man’s voice caught you off-guard, and you turned to find a man leaning in the doorway. Your brow furrowed a touch as you took him in—the long lean of his body, the neatly fitted charcoal suit and sky-blue tie, the curl of his dark hair, the twinkle of his warm chestnut eyes, and his small, intrigued smile.

“Well that’s very kind of you, whoever the hell you are, but I don’t exactly have anything on the board right now.”

“The fact that you even have a board is encouraging.”

“...This metaphor is beginning to exhaust me.”

“This,” Jessica stepped past you to gesture the man deeper into the room, “Is David Alford.”

“Alford?” You repeated. “Like the plea?”

“No relation. What would you know about an Alford plea?”

“I know of it.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, I used to date a lawyer.”

“Lucky guy.”

“I don’t think he’d agree with you, as evidenced by the fact that he is no longer my boyfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

You shook his hand lightly, still wary from the ambush.

“Look, Mr. Alford—”

“David, please.”

“—I don’t know what Jessica’s told you about my situation—”

“She didn’t have to tell me much. Forgive my bluntness, but your name has come up in our circles over the last couple of weeks.”

“Well, forgive my bluntness, but it’s not my circle anymore.”

“It could be again.”

“Are you going to get me a circle back in the divorce?”

“I’m gonna get you whatever the hell you want in your divorce.”

You let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, unable to help yourself.

“O-kay,” You lowered your hand.

“Why don’t I see what we can do about getting some coffee,” Jessica offered. “You two talk.”

Your brows furrowed as she waved the two of you more deeply inside. Jessica, at least pretending to get coffee? Damn, she really did want the two of you to talk. You gave David a polite smile as you lowered yourself to sit.

“I’m sorry she dragged you in here.”

“Wasn’t much of a drag. My office is a block away.”

“Well, then I’m glad you haven’t come far for nothing.”

“Nothing?” His brows jumped as he sat beside you. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not currently looking for a divorce lawyer.”

“You need one.”

“That is beyond the point, Mr—”

“David.”

“...Mister David,” You bit out pointedly, and fought back a wave of annoyance at his amused smile. “I’m not sure how much Jessica has told you, but there are a lot of things up in the air right now. I’ve socked away some money for my defense, but not enough.”

“How would you know what’s enough?”

“...Let’s pretend that I don’t know anything about the law, or the legal quagmire that I’ve gotten myself into. Let’s pretend that all I know about my soon to be ex-husband’s business is that he has a lot more money than I do. The two of us went into our marriage with about 600 bucks and a dream held together with tape and spit. I have watched, and I have helped my husband build up his business for the last eleven years. I have signed contracts, I have signed purchase orders, I have signed mortgages, I have signed deeds. Even if I wasn’t paying attention to what I was signing, I would know that Steven has amassed a lot of cash, a massive legal team, as well as a significant number of holdings—in both our names. He has a lot of power in this equation, and I do not. Whatever comes down the pike, it is going to be a protracted legal battle. If I was optimistic, I would figure that this would take about a year, but I’m not, and I know that it could take a few.”

David’s dark eyes darted fascinatedly across your face before he offered: “But you do know a lot about Mr. Hayward’s business.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Because it was your business, too.”

You averted your gaze from him as that washed over you. His acknowledgement made your heart knock hollowly against your ribs, and it took all of your strength not to slouch dejectedly in your chair.

“...Yes,” You agreed. “It was.” “I understand that you’re discouraged. I would be, too, a lot of women are in your position.”

“Exactly what position is that, Mister David.”

His smile flattened with nerves, and he let out a huffed, joyless laugh.

“I mean, having been served—”

“A piping-hot plate of out on my ass?”

“If that’s what you’d like to call it—”

“I call it that because that’s what it is, not because I like it that way.”

“I understand. Look,” David shifted in his seat, twisting to face you a little more. “I think that regardless of when you get your pieces in place, you have a real case here. I think I can get you half.”

If you had a touch less decorum, you would have jumped out of your seat and screamed—both from the excitement, and the certainty that David Alford was out of his mind. Instead, you blinked twice, and once you managed to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, asked:

“Half?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“There is no way.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I don’t think I would, because I’m almost certain that’s impossible.”

“Well, it certainly would be before.”

“What exactly has changed?”

“You didn’t know me. You do now.”

You smiled in spite of yourself at the brash, almost fearless way that he said it. As skeptical as you were, you knew that this was exactly what you needed: someone as bold, confident, and fearless as—

“What a cozy little conference this is.”

You turned back at the sound of Harvey’s voice, smiling a little. “Looking to join the fun?”

“If I can hazard a guess at Jessica’s matchmaking, Alford is the one joining the fun.”

“Specter,” David greeted, pushing himself out of his seat. “Haven’t seen you at the squash courts recently.”

“I’ve been trolling the back nine,” Harvey offered, shaking David’s hand. “Nice to see you, Pleas and thank you.”

Your brow furrowed at the term. “What?”

“It’s what some of the guys at the club call me. You know, my name—”

“Alford pleas and thank you.” You scrubbed your hand across your brow. “God, that’s dumb.”

“We can’t all be queens of quip.”

“You poor things,” You shot back scathingly. Harvey shot you a wink before turning back to David.

“So, David, whaddaya say?” Harvey plied. “You filling the gap?”

“Yeah, I’d love to fill ‘er in.”

You didn’t miss his innuendo, nor the speculative, open, sweeping gaze that David leveled at you. Your brows inched toward your hairline, stunned at his brazenness. Surely you hadn’t seen it right—

“Coffee?”

Your focus was broken at the sound of Jessica’s voice, and the sight of a coffee tray being wheeled in behind her. You let yourself be busied by it. You focused on your coffee, made it the way you liked, and let Jessica and David and Harvey talk about what you could reasonably expect out of the divorce battle.

Reasonably, as if this entire situation hadn’t been insanely unreasonable.

But you let yourself sit, and listen, and save your speculation for the train ride home.

You must’ve read his look wrong, or misunderstood. He didn’t mean it like that.

And even if he did, finding that look intriguing was incredibly appropriate. But it didn’t matter! Because he didn’t mean it like that.

…And even if he did, it was probably just something that he tried to bring you on board. But it didn’t matter, because he did not mean it like that.

…

Though if he did, it really wouldn’t matter, because it would be grounds for him to be disbarred. Nothing was going to happen…Even if you did find him attractive, and found his blunt approach and self-assured nature very, very hot.

But you were not going to fuck him.

“Don’t fuck him.”

You had expected the warning to come from Jessica, but to hear it from Harvey of all goddamn people made you gape at him in shock. He just gave you a knowing look before he turned back toward the beer that he was opening.

Your urge to have a drink that evening hadn’t been strong, but it had been there, and it had made you think of Harvey’s offer from the day before. You hadn’t expected such a quick response to your simple text of ‘Beer?’, but he had turned up a mere half hour later, a fresh six pack in hand. He had shrugged off his jacket, tossed it on to your bed, and walked over to your kitchenette—where he proceeded to say the most heinous thing.

“Excuse me?” You finally managed.

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think I did, actually, not properly, because it sounded like you just gave me an order that you had no business giving.”

“I have plenty of business.”

“No—”

“Don’t—”

“No no no, you do not, not here, and not like that.”

“I’m just saying,” Harvey turned from the counter, planting his hand on the cruddy formica, “That I know—”

“Do not say that you know me.”

His expression darkened, and you watched as he drew in a deep breath. “I know him.”

“...He has to be good, or Jessica wouldn’t have pulled him on to my case.”

“He’s a good lawyer, but he’s a scuzzy asshole.”

“I know the type.”

“You think I’m a scuzzy asshole?”

Your gut dropped at the hint of anger seeping into his tone.

“I meant Steven.”

Harvey turned away, hand curling into a fist and knocking lightly on the counter.

“Just…Be careful with him.”

“You are the last person that has any right to lecture me on the care that I ought to take with the men in my life.”

“I’m not lecturing you—”

“No, you’re warning me off, like a little kid that’s playing too close to an electric fence.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fine by me, as long as you don’t fuck David.” “Alright, you know what,” You pushed off of your bed, striding over to your door. “Get out.”

“We’re not done talking about this.”

“Yes, we are. Get out.”

“We’re not done until—”

“We’re done when I say we’re done!” You began to yank your door open. Harvey was across your small space in a moment, palm flat against the door as he shoved it shut behind you.

“And what the hell gives you the right to decide that?”

“Because it’s my turn!” You barked. “I get to decide when we’re done now.”

“It stopped being your turn when you stormed out of my office.”

“Then make the damn decision yourself and get the fuck out of my apartment!”

“If you want to ruin that man’s career and your chances of getting anything that you want out of your divorce, you go right ahead.”

“I am not going to fuck him, and I’m not going to get him disbarred, you ass.”

“Good.”

“And I deeply resent the implication that I’m so sex-starved and desperate that I’m willing to fuck anyone who gives me any goddamn attention.”

“I did not—”

“Yes, you did, you did the second you opened your mouth. By rights, if that’s your view of me, I should’ve tried to not only fuck Mike, but you, of all people.”

“I never implied that you were sex starved, but if you were, you could do a lot worse than Mike—”

“Oh, really—”

“And a helluva lot worse than me.”

“Oh, please! There is no way that I could do worse than you. There are dictators that I’d sooner fall into bed with.”

“If all you’re cutting out is the bed, I can work with the rest.”

You could’ve slapped him. He was close enough, and you could just imagine it—the way the flush of red would look spreading across his cheek.

“What makes you think I’d ever allow you anywhere near me again, Specter?”

“I’m pretty damn close now.” He shifted closer, stopping as the tips of his shoes brushed your socked feet.

“Against your better judgment.”

“You want to put me in my place, sweetheart, you go right ahead.”

“Don't call me that.”

“Why not.”

“Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Give me a good reason not to.”

“You haven’t earned it back.”

“Any idea of how I might do that?”

You bit him. You grasped his tie, tugged him in, and sank your teeth into his lower lip. You expected an argument, but Harvey just groaned, grasping you by the hips and shoving you back against the door. You released his lip, groaning as he swept his tongue into your mouth. Your hand unwound from his tie, breath leaving you in harsh puffs as Harvey’s smearing kisses trailed down your jaw to your neck. You arched up into his touch as his hands slipped under your t-shirt, palming and squeezing whatever skin he could reach. You reached down, hands fumbling with nerves and heat as you worked off his belt.

Every time your mind began to race, Harvey managed to quiet it, with his teasing tongue, and nipping teeth, and grasping fingers. For all of his big talk about getting David disbarred, Harvey suddenly seemed to not give a damn about his own career—

You whined as Harvey yanked down the cup of your bra, knuckles toying with your pebbling nipple. You palmed his hardening cock through the soft fabric of his trousers, thrilling in his moan, and the press of his hips up against your touch. His fingers snaked beneath the band of your sweatpants, sweeping against your clit before swiping slower.

“You’re already so goddamn wet,” He growled, easing a finger into you. You pressed into his touch, gritting your teeth as he goaded: “You like pissing me off this much?”

“Condom?”

“Left pocket.”

You reached into his pocket, brushing against his cock as you drew out the foil packet. Why wasn’t it tucked somewhere discreet, like his wallet? You pushed the thought away as you ripped the foil packet open with your teeth. Harvey let go of you just long enough to shove his pants down around his thighs, then push your sweatpants.

“Turn around.”

You passed him the condom before doing as you were told, leaning heavily against the door. You expected a stretch, but slick heat pressed between your spread thighs. Your mouth dropped open in a moan, eyes squeezing shut as Harvey lapped and laved your slick, heated skin. You reached back, fingers scrabbling to grasp the neat coif of his hair.

“Harvey, damnit,” You gasped. “Just fuck me already.”

He groaned in dissent, giving your lips one more sucking kiss before straightening fully. You felt one palm smooth over to your thigh, and saw the other rest against the door as he eased into you. Your lips parted with a gentle whine at the pleasurable throb of his cock stretching you. You planted your hand on the door beside his, steadying yourself as you adjusted.

He didn’t give you long. Harvey drew back before his hips snapped sharply. You pressed your cheek to the door, skin growing clammy between the flimsy particleboard and the hot panting of your breath. The harsh slam of his hips forced your body uncomfortably against the door. You let your eyes slide closed as Harvey’s hands covered yours, drawing them just above your head as he intertwined your fingers. The door rattled in the frame with each thrust. You whimpered as Harvey pressed his face into your neck, felt his hot breath and the rumble of his groans against your skin.

Your thighs ached, and your heart pounded, and your cunt throbbed, and goddamn it felt so fucking good.

The swell of your orgasm rose and crested sharply, and you didn’t bother to hide the shuddering of your moan, your grip tightening on Harvey's hands. He followed close behind, hips pounding and juddering before he slowed. The two of you stood still for a few long moments, listening to one another’s panting and coming down. Harvey carefully extricated your hands from yours, drawing away and leaving you half-bare and chilly against the door.

“...I need a beer,” Harvey muttered, voice hoarse.

“You left one on the counter.”

“You want one?”

“Yeah.”

You reach down, tugging up your sweatpants as you gently peel yourself back from the door.

“It’s probably going to be lukewarm,” Harvey warned.

“I don’t care.” You drew in a shaky breath as you walked back toward your bed. You’d already sworn that you wouldn’t let him into it. You lowered yourself to sit beside it, looking at the door as the swirl of confused thoughts shifted back to the fore. You watched Harvey tie off the condom and drop it into your trash bin. You tracked his movement—from cleaning up, to doing up his pants, to washing his hands. You didn’t bother to hide your open speculation as he opened another beer, then took the two up. You drew your legs together, biting your lip as your slick cunt pulsed.

Harvey lowered himself to sit beside you, holding a beer out and lightly knocking his against yours before you each took a drink. You winced a little at the taste. You should’ve listened to him—the taste of lukewarm beer was not appetizing. You saw Harvey reach up out of the corner of your eye as he loosened his tie.

“...What was that about getting someone disbarred?”

“Shuddup.” There was no heat to how he said it, and that was probably why it made you snort a laugh.

“Harvey?”

“What.”

“Did you come over planning to fuck me?”

“What?”

“Why was there a condom in your pocket?”

“I had a date.”

Your brow furrowed as you took that in.

“...When?”

“Tonight.”

“Why aren’t you there?”

“Because I’m here.”

Harvey Specter broke a date. Harvey Specter broke a date for you. You leaned back against the bed again, biting the inside of your cheek to quell a wide grin.

“Don’t read into it,” He added.

“I’m not reading into anything…Apart from the fact that you seemed pretty sure you were going to get laid.”

“I was.”

“Arrange for that, did you?”

“No need to arrange anything. I’m just good like that.”

“Well. Can’t argue with that. For the record—”

“What.”

“You really have no say over who I do and don’t fuck.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“...You going to the Hamptons next weekend?”

“Yeah.” “How are you getting up there?”

“I was going to take the train.”

“I could give you a ride.”

“You already have.” You cast Harvey a knowing smile, grin widening as he shot you a sidelong, unimpressed glance. Your smile turned to giggles as Harvey seemed to smile in spite of himself.

“You really think we could stand to be in the car with one another for more than twenty minutes?” You prodded.

“If not, we could always pull over and work out our differences.”

“Pfft. No other weekend plans?”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t promise a rain check?”

“Didn’t specify when it might happen.”

“Mm. And why would you want to come with me?”

“Steven could be watching those properties, waiting for you to turn up. You could benefit from having back up.”

“You make it sound terribly sinister. Have you figured out how to bill Gstaad yet?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Keep me updated.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t mean for, you know—I don’t want a vacation.”

“You’ve earned one.”

“Whatever, I just don’t like to put something on the market without doing a walk-through myself.”

“I understand.”

You leaned back against the bed a little more heavily, gaze wandering toward the door, where a little bit of your makeup was smeared from the press of your cheek.

“...Harvey?”

“Mm?”

“Can we talk about it?”

“The sex or the other thing?”

“The other thing.”

“I’ve already had one fight with you today. I don’t think I have the capacity for two...Do you?”

You shook your head.

“Some other time,” He promised.

“Sure.”

You had seen the paperwork and the inspector’s notes, but to see the house in the Hamptons was a whole other story. The long gravel driveway was lined with a horse fence on the left, and a plain wood fence on the right. You didn’t bother to hide your open, stunned stares as you passed the stables. It was hardly the first time you’d seen a home like it, but it was unfathomable that Steven seemed to have not only put the house in your name, but completely forgotten about it.

Harvey pulled the car into the neatly manicured lot.

“Do you want to start in the stables, the house, the pool, the tennis court…?” He shut the car off, waiting for your reply. You shook your head.

“I only care about the house,” You admitted.

“So we won’t be walking the expansive lawns? I brought my sneakers.”

“Do I even want to know how expensive those sneakers are?”

“They’re worth more than your apartment.”

“I’m willing to believe that.” You climbed out of the car, eyeing the inspector’s report as you rounded toward the front steps. You turned from the paperwork to take in the house’s appearance more clearly. It was…Ugly. The large, L-shaped, gray-brick building had the modernistic development of the fast-casual apartment buildings in the city, with some of the gauche touches of your penthouse, like the expansive floor-to-ceiling covering nearly the entirety of the bottom of the floor. You could see a balcony on the left side of the house, and another around the other end of the L.

“...This is different.”

“It’s criminal,” You muttered.

“Are you saying that because he forged your signature, or because it’s ugly as sin?”

“Both. Come on.”

You walked up to the front door, punching in the code that the realtor had given you to get the door open.

The foyer was as flat and uninspired as the outside of the house—white marble floors, grey walls, and sterling silver furnishings. You grimaced as you looked around.

“Are we doing a complete walk through of this millennial grey gulag?”

“If you’re going to hate it, you can wait in the car,” You offered, glancing toward Harvey. “Apparently there are fifteen bedrooms and nine bathrooms, and I don’t know how much of your cute commentary I can deal with today.”

“Seemed to handle it fine in the car.” Harvey turned left before you could say or do anything else, and you followed him, looking down at the property’s map.

“This place oughta have one of those fricking mall maps with a star labeled ‘You Are Here’,” You grumbled.

“Now who’s making cute comments.”

–

“My feet hurt,” You groaned, plopping onto a boxy, stiff-cushioned couch.

“You’d think after the last couple of months of living in that walk-up, you’d be in better shape.”

“You’d think.”

“It’s all those cheese fries.”

“Oh—shut up.”

“So, what do you think?”

“I think we throw it on the market for 18 million and I forget that it ever existed.”

“Why list it in your name, though?”

You shrugged, looking around. “Maybe it was in both our names when he bought it and the outcome was such a disaster he decided to leave my name on it. I think he designed it.”

“Really?” Harvey’s brows rose as he looked around.

“Oh, god yeah. Steven can be smart, but he’s never really had any design sense. I wound up taking charge on some of our early flip projects because he just didn’t have the eye for it. He always tried, but I kinda wound up following behind and fixing his messes. If I had to guess, he bought this place to show me that he really could do it, and he just…Can’t.”

“Do you think Cape Cod and Gstaad will be the same?”

“Doubtful. The report for Cape Cod said that the house was originally built in 1950…what. Four?”

“Something like that.”

“It looks like he gutted it like he did the apartment buildings and realized how much of a project it would be. Gave up on it.”

“And Gstaad?”

“Work out how to expense the trip and we can talk.”

Harvey chuckled, wandering closer. “Should we christen it?”

“Christen what?”

“This house.”

“How?”

Harvey’s brows waggled salaciously, and you laughed, pushing yourself off of the couch. “Oh no, Specter. No way—”

“Why not?”

“You wanna christen every room? You don’t have the stamina for that—And I don’t have the patience.”

“What about just in here?” He curled his arm around your waist, drawing you closer. “On that stupid couch, over the piano…How about up against the windows?” His voice dropped to a murmur. “There’s no one around for miles.”

You rolled your eyes despite your amusement.

“If you said that with the Kubrick stare, I’d think you were going all Jack Torrence on me.”

“Heeeeeeeere’s Harvey.”

“Ugh! God, let’s just go,” You pushed out of Harvey’s arms, heading for the door. “It’s kinda creepy being here, you know. Like Steven’s watching.”

“The house can’t be haunted, he’s not dead.”

“He is to me.”

–

“When are you planning on going to Cape Cod?”

“Mm…Probably next week.”

“Driving up?”

“Taking the train.”

“Again with the train.”

“I don’t have a car and I’m not going to rent one.”

“Are you staying overnight?”

“No.”

“You’re going to go up and back on the train in one day? That is a long day.”

“I can handle it.”

“You’d be more comfortable in a car.”

“Yeah, obviously—Eyes on the road, Specter.” You reached out, poking his cheek as he glanced over at you. He batted your hand away lazily before turning back to the road.

“Why do you always insist on doing things in the most difficult way possible?”

“Because in most cases, the most difficult choice is also the most cost-effective. Efficiencies can be cruel, Harvey.”

“Cruel is an understatement.”

“I can handle a day on the train.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so, thank you.”

“Stubborn.”

“...Do you wanna come up when we get back to my place?”

“What for?”

You tipped your head to the side, waiting for Harvey to glance over before you teasingly waggled your brows.

“Oh, so now you want to?”

“I wanted to then! But I couldn’t do it if I felt Steven looming over me. C’mon, Specter,” You reached out, gently teasing your nails along the back of his neck, and grinning as he shifted slightly in his seat. “See if you can get me any more out of breath than walking up six flights of stairs.”

“Hey, there you are! Jessica needs to—What’s that face for?” Mike’s concern fell away at the sight of Harvey’s self-satisfied smile as he stepped off of the elevator. Harvey gave a dismissive shrug. What the hell was he going to tell Mike? That he’d spent the weekend somewhere other than his place? That he had fallen asleep with her, and remembered how serene it used to be to wake up with her? That they’d hardly left her cruddy apartment—hell, they’d hardly left her bed?

“Nothing. What were you saying?”

“Jessica needs to see you.”

“Right now?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth did Jessica step out from around the corner, drawing him up short.

“Yes,” She insisted firmly. “Right now.”

Harvey had the strange sense of a child being marched to the principal as she led her way to her office. She shut the door behind the two of them, striding past him to her desk.

“Can this wait?” Harvey hedged. “I’ve got coffee going cold on my desk.”

“Well then, I’ll make this quick. Did you have a nice time this weekend?"

That should've been his warning. It was a solid leading question, and one that, on any other Monday, he would not have hesitated to answer. His eyes narrowed slightly, before he decided—Yes, she must have known that he drove to the Hamptons. Someone would have told Jessica: Mike was still in the habit of offering updates when he thought they would be helpful.

"Yes," He finally answered.

"Was it a productive trip?"

A second warning. Jessica was a strategist, and Harvey knew that any lawyer worth a damn didn't ask a question that they didn't already know the answer to. Still, he chose a carefully middle-of-the-road answer:

"She was happy to go through the home herself, set a listing price. Hopefully we can get it on the market and on its way as soon as possible.”

Jessica took that in thoughtfully, lips set in a placid smile.

"Were there any outstanding features?"

A third and final warning, but Harvey couldn't help but lean into it:

"Are we talking about the tennis court, the pool, the stables, or the thousand lawns?"

Jessica let out a tepid, flatly amused, "Hm," Before beckoning him closer. "Well if those all caught your eye, it would explain why you missed the cameras."

Harvey froze in his step, blood running cold. There was no way—Cameras? His gaze dropped to the laptop that she turned to face him. The black and white footage was grainy, but clear enough. Harvey watched as he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her into his chest. He could still feel the heat of her body, and the plush slide of her sweater beneath his fingers. He could see the gentle, adoring way that she gazed up at him before she nudged him away, leading the charge out of the house.

‘It’s kinda creepy being here, you know. Like Steven’s watching.’ He didn’t know how, but she had felt it.

"Where did that come from."

"I'll give you three guesses."

"Let me explain—"

"Explain what!" Jessica slammed the laptop closed, rounding the desk with self-righteous strides. "Explain what idiotic idea led to you putting on a show?"

"We didn't know that there were cameras."

"How long has this been going on?"

"We only went to see that one house."

Jessica's expression darkened as she shook her head.

"Don't play dumb with me, Harvey," She warned lowly. "How long have you been sleeping with her."

It hit him low in the gut. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak.

"She told you?"

"No, she didn't tell me. She didn't have to. It'll be plain as day to anyone who sees that footage."

"That’s not true, we were just—"

"Just what?"

"I was teasing her! It didn't mean anything."

"If I call and ask her, she'll say the same thing?"

He was certain of it. "Yes."

"Would she swear to it under oath? At a deposition? In court?"

His surety faltered, and his mouth worked wordlessly before he pursed his lips tightly. Jessica shook her head again.

"I am not the only one with access to this. Luckily for you—for both of you—she still has a friend or two on the inside. Aaron Delaney sent this to me before he deleted the original. He works closely with Steven, and has access to a few property accounts. He got an alert on his phone that someone had used the keypad to open the door."

"Has Steven seen it?"

"He isn't sure, but I'm not willing to take that chance. Louis will be taking over the Hayward case, and Mike will be assisting him."

"No, Jessica, that's not happening."

"It is, because I'm telling you that it is. You should be relieved. You never wanted it in the first place."

"Things are different now."

"You're damn right they are! What the hell were you thinking? Both of you?"

"Let me see this case through."

"If you see this through and Hayward does have access to this footage, you could be disbarred. You're going to hand the files over to Louis by the end of the day. He is expecting them. Mike will bring him up to speed and assist him until this mess is cleared up."

Harvey lowered his gaze to the floor as Jessica stepped around him, opening the door and waiting beside it. He curled his hands into fists in his pockets as he strode resignedly from the office.

"And so help you," Jessica warned as he passed, "If I hear that you are holding Louis up in any way."

Harvey only made it a few feet from the office before he pulled his phone out of his pocket, hurriedly dialing her number. It rang once...Twice...Three times...And went to voicemail.

"Damnit," He hissed, lowering the phone to redial. "C'mon, c'mon..." It rang once, "Pick up." Twice...

"Hey you."

"Where are you?"

"What do you mean?" She laughed, "I'm on my way to see Jessica for our check-in."

Fuck.

"How close are you?"

"I just got off of the elevator. Why?"

Harvey whirled around, eyes desperately searching for her through the gaggle of associates, paralegals, and lawyers going about their business.

"She knows."

"What?"

He could hear her frown. Harvey took three steps toward the elevator bay before he saw her come into view—and lock eyes with Jessica. He saw her body go tense, before her shoulders sagged with dejection.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Hell," She sighed before hanging up.

"I'm not going to even begin to approach what you may have been thinking—"

"Jessica—"

"—Putting not only your future, Harvey’s future, and the future of this firm in jeopardy."

"I wasn't thinking."

"Clearly."

"We didn't even do anything at the house!"

"That doesn't make the slightest bit of difference."

You slid down in your seat as Jessica paced in front of you, her pace and turn reminiscent of a caged tiger.

"I did you a favor and this is how you repay me?" She finally stilled, nailing you with a cold gaze. You folded further under the crush of her look, so similar to the disbelief that she had leveled you with at her apartment not too long ago.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be." Jessica strode around her desk. "Your case has been reassigned to Louis Litt. Mike will stay on, provided you haven't fucked him, too."

Christ. "I made a mistake, alright? I told you I was sorry, and I meant it," You insisted. "Don't bring Mike into this when he hasn't done anything wrong."

Jessica bristled as she lowered herself into her seat.

"I don't want you associating with Harvey until this is over."

"Oh—Come on."

"If this footage were to come out, Harvey's conduct and ethics will be called into question. He'll be dragged into your divorce proceedings. Is that what you want?"

Your stomach churned uneasily as you considered it. You knew she was right. You shook your head a little, trying desperately to swallow past the lump that was forming in your dry throat.

"Louis and Mike will be in touch."

"Okay." You turned, heading for her office door, and stopping just before you opened it.

"...Is now a bad time to remind you that bringing Harvey onto my case was your idea?"

The chilling glare that she leveled with answered for her: Yes. It was a very bad time to remind her.

“You slept with—”

“Shut the door and keep your voice down,” Harvey warned stonily. Before either of them could move toward his office door, Donna hurried into view, reaching for the handle.

“You don’t wanna hear this?” Mike’s brows rose. “You of all people?”

Donna waved him away, offering, “Intercom,” Before she shut the door. Harvey sighed heavily, lowering himself into his chair.

“What happened?” Mike stepped closer to the desk. “I’m just—You two hate each other.”

“Thank you for the reminder. I forgot about that.”

“Harvey, c’mon,” Mike shook his head as he tried (and failed) to keep from smiling. “What happened?”

“I went over to hang out.”

“At her apartment?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, and? Instead of hanging out you…Let it all hang out?”

“Get out of my office.”

“If that was at her apartment, what happened in the Hamptons?”

“Nothing happened in the Hamptons. The footage just…We got close, that’s all.”

“That’s not enough to disbar you.”

“Because you’re the expert on being disbarred? It’s enough to call my ethics into question…And Jessica’s right, no one needs that headache right now.”

“So I’m stuck with Louis because you got close? Where’s the Specter spirit? No way are you going to watch this one from the sidelines.”

On any other case, no, he wouldn’t. Harvey would insist on backseat driving. But on this one…He grimaced, dropping his gaze to his desk.

“I want regular updates,” He insisted. “That’s all.”

Mike nodded slowly, conceding: “Okay. But I’ll be ready when you change your mind.”

"I'll come over."

He sounded so positive about it—like nothing had happened, or changed. You eyed the remaining trash bags, trying to scrounge up the conviction of an excuse.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"Why not?"

You know why. You shifted your phone from one hand to the other, tucking it between your shoulder and your ear as you reached out, gripping a bag to make it crinkle loudly.

"I've still got some sorting to do."

"I'll help you."

"Not tonight, Harvey."

"...She's not in charge of us, you know."

You tipped your head back against your wall, closing your eyes. "She's actually very much in charge of you."

"At work."

"I know, but I just..." You winced. "I think she's right. We should lay low for a while. If Steven did see that video before Aaron sent it to Jessica, we're both going to have a whole new mess that we're stepping into."

"I'm ready for it."

"...I don't know if I am."

His silence on the other end made you want to crawl out of your skin. "I can only fight one battle at a time, Harvey—And right now, I'm barely managing the big ones."

"Fine."

You knew that fine coming from him. It wasn't fine. It was I'm shutting down. It was I'm finished with this conversation. It was I'm finished with you.

"Harvey—"

You lowered the phone from your ear as the line cut off, watching the inevitable flashing and darkening of his contact. You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. How, after all this time, was Harvey Specter still able to make you cry?

You became solitary again. Life narrowed. You saw Aaron a time or two, but he was so busy either working or gathering intel that you were hardly able to keep up with him. For as much of a lifeline as she had been, Jessica was still pissed, and you hardly spoke more than you needed to. Mike was a dear, checking in to see how you were doing, but most correspondence led inevitably to discussing closings, proceedings, contracts (and you couldn’t blame him for it; he was only doing his job).

Louis was…A lot. He was very eager, that was clear, and had been working hard to push the sales of the apartment buildings and the home in the Hamptons through. David and his firm were digging into discovery, and were making headway.

But you had so little life outside of your divorce. Most of your pieces were sold off, so you hardly had any day-to-day tasks to keep you busy—and everything in New York was so goddamn expensive. It felt like you spent $50 just stepping out your front door. There were days when you simply didn’t. It was cheaper to stay in, and quieter (so long as your neighbors didn’t have a screaming match that day).

Your life was four walls, a cruddy bed, rickety furniture. You spent too much time awake when you should’ve been sleeping; too much time reminiscing when you should have been moving on; too much time dwelling on the time that you spent with men in your life that probably wouldn’t spare you another thought.

Walking back into the firm was uncomfortable. You’d avoided it for as long as you could, but Mike insisted that there were a few documents that absolutely had to be seen and signed in the office. You’d made it an entire three weeks without so much as getting anywhere near the building. You found yourself avoiding even glancing in the direction of Jessica’s office. It was alright, though—Donna was a smiling, comforting presence the second you stepped off of the elevator.

“Find the place alright?” She teased.

“I did, thank you. I’ve only been here a dozen times in the last couple of months.”

“It’s been a few weeks. We thought you’d forgotten where we were.”

You smiled tightly. You were certain that she knew everything that had gone on—she was the eyes and ears of the place.

“You know, it’s the funniest thing,” You drawled sarcastically, “I kept coming to the right building and getting off on the wrong floor.”

“Happens to the best of us. C’mon.”

You frowned as she led you away from the usual conference rooms, and even further away from Louis’ office. You couldn’t imagine where the heck she was taking you—and your confusion deepened as she opened the door to a room lined with files. She nodded you inside, a knowing smile on her lips as she warned:

“Two minutes.”

Two minutes? Until what?

“Thanks, Donna.” Harvey’s voice made you freeze, and you could do nothing but watch Donna close the door behind herself. You looked down at the floor, your hands wringing as you heard Harvey come closer. You felt him stop close behind you, close enough to feel the heat of him.

“...Are you going to look at me?” He hedged softly.

“No need. I know what you look like.”

He sighed softly, stepping around to stand in front of you. You watched as his shoes and pant legs came into view.

“...And you’re just going to look at my shoes now?”

“They’re nice shoes. Look expensive.”

“They are.”

“Figures.”

“I’m sorry.”

You looked at him fully, finally, stunned. You were surprised at how drawn he looked. Sure, his suit was impeccable, and his hair was frustratingly perfect, but you could see tiredness around his eyes.

“You’re going through hell right now,” Harvey went on, “You don’t need me to pile on to that. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

You nodded slowly as you took it all in. “Well. We should never have, um…” You cleared your throat, averting your gaze again. “It was stupid.”

“You regret it?”

“It’s not worth risking your career over.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Harvey closed the space between the two of you, and you had to force yourself not to lean into him the way you wanted—the way you’d missed for weeks.

“Harvey,” You warned softly. “I can’t keep playing tug of war with you like this. I’m already at the end of my damn rope.”

“I know.”

You closed your eyes at the feeling of his palms sliding warmly over your arms, trailing down until he could gently intertwine your fingers.

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” He promised, “Until we’re on the other side of this, and your business with the firm is closed out.”

“And then what?”

“And then I’ll give you hell.” You spluttered a laugh, unable to help it. Harvey chuckled softly, his nose nudging yours gently.

“I should go,” You warned softly. “Louis will come looking for me.”

“Donna will keep him at bay.”

“She said two minutes. It’s been at least three—” You hardly had time to finish your protestation before Harvey kissed you. You swayed into him, lips slipping tenderly against his as he used his grasp to draw you flush against him. You wiggled your hands from his, curling your arms around his shoulders to keep close. You startled at the two knocks on the door, and smiled as Harvey groaned in irritation.

“I should let you go,” He mumbled. You nodded, murmured,

“Probably.”

But neither of you rushed to move.

“I'm sorry to see you go. I've enjoyed our time together."

You sort of believed it, given the pinched, almost pained look that Louis leveled you across the desk. And, for all of your work with him over the last three months, you'd gained a sort of affinity for the man...Even if he was a little intense in a way that sometimes confused you. You smiled, taking up the final few documents that you would need for your record.

"I appreciate that, and thank you for all of your hard work, Mr. Litt. It's been..." You weighed your words carefully, "Interesting."

"For me, too. Reach out if you need anything else—doc review, mover recommendations, tickets to the ballet. Anything."

"Tickets to the ballet? I'm impressed." You held your hand out, smiling as he stood and pumped it enthusiastically. "Thank you again."

You were hardly four steps out of Louis' office when you found yourself flanked in the hallway.

"We should celebrate," Harvey insisted.

"And how would we do that?"

"Dinner at La Belle Vache."

Your brows rose as you glanced toward Mike.

"’The beautiful cow’?"

"Harvey's idea."

"With a restaurant name like that, it would have to be."

"Hey, that is not fair! I could be posh."

"It wouldn't suit you, Mr. Ross."

"Is that a yes or a no to dinner?" Harvey plied.

"When?"

"You busy tonight?"

"If I told you I had plans, would you believe me?"

"Not for a second."

"Well, I do."

"Cancel 'em."

"It's with my divorce lawyer."

"And here feels like a good stopping point for me." Mike wheeled around, striding back in the direction that he came.

"What the hell does David want with you after hours?"

"Deposition starts next week. We're drilling testimony."

"As long as that's all he's drilling."

"Watch it, Specter." You reached out, jabbing the down button on the elevator before turning back to Harvey. He pouted contemplatively before offering: "What about this weekend?"

"I think I could swing this weekend. Is dinner on the firm?"

"It's on me."

"Do you think..." You trailed off, glancing toward Jessica's office, "That the powers that be will approve?"

"Honestly?" Harvey lowered his voice,"I don't give a damn. It's been months. Your business here is wrapped. If Jessica wants to give me a good reason why I can't see you, she's welcome to try—but it won't work."

You bit the inside of your cheek to quell a smile as you reached out, gently straightening Harvey's tie.

"Very forceful, Mr. Specter."

"You like it?"

"It's kinda hot." You turned back and stepped onto the elevator as it chimed.

"This weekend," You finally agreed. "Invite Mike—He's earned several dinners."

"He sure has."

The doors began to close, but Harvey darted in, catching them before they could shut all the way. He darted in, pressing a swift, warm kiss to your lips before he drew away again. You grinned as he stepped back, allowing the doors to close.

"As long as that's all he's drilling."

The memory of Harvey's teasing warning was on your mind throughout your time with David, and you found yourself fighting back smiles all evening.

"Do you have any plans for the weekend?"

David watched you from beneath his lashes as he asked, and where that look had intrigued you once, you knew better. You gave a short, firm nod, and insisted: "I have a date."

Your battle with Steven was far from over. You still had forgery cases pending, and your divorce case had hardly begun. But things felt a little lighter these days.

You had a direction, you had cash flow...But you didn't quite have the plan that you once did. You had told Harvey months ago that you were considering moving to Cambridge. It hadn’t completely ceased to be true, but it wasn’t your only consideration anymore.

There were moments when you could see the glimmer of a life to carve out for yourself: a smaller real estate firm with a few employees—maybe Aaron, if you could lure him away from Steven; a more comfortable apartment than where you were now, but you could live with where you were for a few more months as you got things in order; and, at the very least, a friendship with Harvey. You didn’t know if what the two of you were doing would be sustainable, and you weren’t sure whether either of you really wanted to know—but after all this time, you thought that maybe the two of you deserved another chance.

“Impressed?”

It was a fair question, but you were doing your best to school your expression. You didn’t want Harvey to know outright how much you did like his apartment. It was nothing less than you expected—large (though not quite in the palatial way that your old penthouse was), tastefully decorated, with a gorgeous view. You knew why Harvey had brought you up, of course, but now he was just showing off.

Dinner had been its own round of grandstanding. You and Mike had watched, bemused, as Harvey had gone out of his way to pronounce all of the dishes in a French accent to the clearly not French (but feigning awe) waiter (who you were sure had to deal with this multiple times a day). Harvey had also taught you and Mike a thing or two about wine—or he had tried to, until Mike seemed no longer able to help himself and corrected Harvey on multiple facts about the Rhône valley in the south of France.

It had been a far more pleasant evening that you had expected to have, and far more jovial than you’d had in a long time. Mike and Harvey were close; you and Harvey had a history; you and Mike had become friends over the course of your time working with him. When Mike had insisted that you all had to do this again sometime, you believed that he meant it. And when Harvey had invited you both up for a nightcap, Mike had politely declined with a smile and a shake of his head, offering:

“I think I should let you two have some time to do…Whatever it is that you need to do.”

You hadn’t been entirely sure what he’d meant, or what Harvey had told him. You were almost certain that he would’ve been told why Harvey had been taken off of your case in the first place. And sure, now and again, over dinner, you and Harvey had caught one another’s eye, maybe shared a smile. Maybe he’d rested his hand on your knee a time or two, given it a squeeze—because he could. Because the two of you were close and on even footing for the first time in a while.

“It’s…” You trailed off, shrugging. “Certainly an apartment.”

“Oh, please,” Harvey scoffed, taking two wine glasses down from the cabinet. “You’re impressed.”

“It’s nicer than I thought it would be.”

“You’re dazzled.”

“I like the kitchen.”

“You’re helplessly turned on.”

“‘Helplessly’ is pushing it.”

“So you admit that you’re turned on?”

You rolled your eyes, no longer bothering to fight your smile off.

“Maybe,” You offered, settling onto the couch and kicking off your shoes. Harvey joined you moments later, passing you a glass of wine and gently clinking his against yours before you each took sips. His gaze remained heavy on yours, and he leaned in for a gentle kiss as soon as you lowered your glass. You hummed, raising a hand and cupping his jaw. You leaned back just a touch, smiling as he crowded closer, dipping his head to brush kisses along your neck as his warm palm gently smoothed up your thigh.

“...Harvey?”

“Sure, I can show you the bedroom.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head a little. “Can we talk about it?”

He groaned, forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder. “Why do you always insist on ruining a perfectly good time?”

“Like when?”

“Like when we were in the Hamptons.”

“You thank your lucky fucking stars that I put a stop to that.”

“Yeah,” He grumbled, leaning back. You watched him swirl his wine in his glass.

“Please,” You pleaded softly.

“...I didn’t write the note.”

Fuck.

“Okay.”

“I wrote a note, but…Not that one.”

“Who wrote that one?”

“Scottie.”

“...Okay.”

“I couldn’t find the one I’d written, she insisted that I couldn’t leave you with nothing.”

“Well, she was right.”

“Yeah.”

You that that sink in for a moment before you pressed: “Why did you leave?”

“I had doubts.”

“About me?”

“About us. You know how my parents were, you know…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You know what I saw.”

“And you thought I would do that to you?”

“I was afraid of it.”

“If you were afraid of it, then you thought I was capable of it.”

“—And when you got married to Steven so quickly—”

“Oh—!” The heavy, stunned, indignant laugh was pained as it left you. You pushed off of the couch, standing and walking out of Harvey’s reach. You heard him sigh heavily behind you, chased by the clink of him setting his wine glass down as he muttered, “This is why I didn’t want to talk about this.”

“Do you know why I got married so quickly?” You whirled around to face him.

“Because you loved Steven?”

“I never said that. I thought I loved him a bit, sure, but I was afraid that this,” You waved a finger between the two of you, “Would happen again. I thought he would leave. I was afraid that I would spend my entire life being left. So when Steven showed me the slightest bit of attention, I latched on. We eloped. He wanted a big wedding, but I just,” You waved your hand around, “I couldn’t do that a second time. Any of it. I didn’t get a new dress, neither of our families were there, because I knew that they would all watch me, and him, and they’d be thinking it: Is it going to happen again?”

“You’re saying your entire life with Steven was my fault?”

“I’m saying that I made a choice, and that what happened with you was a factor—Not a fault, a factor. And why!” You let out another harsh hysterical laugh as tears welled in your eyes, “Why didn’t you just talk to me? What did I do then to make you think that you couldn’t talk to me?”

“I wasn’t ready!”

“And we could have talked about that! What made you think that I wouldn’t have been alright with moving the wedding back, or going to counseling with you, or whatever you would have needed to get us there?”

“You wanted to get married.”

“I wanted you, Harvey! I would have waited, I—” You turned away, sniffling heavily as tears slipped from your eyes. “Fuck. Ugh.” You raised your glass, draining it before striding over the counter, desperate to put some more distance between the two of you. You set the glass down and yanked a paper towel off of the roll, swiping at your under eyes to clear away any running mascara. You blew your nose as well before balling up the tissue and lobbing it toward the trash can. You heard Harvey’s approaching footsteps, and you pulled in a deep, stuttering breath as he rested his hands on your shoulders.

“...There’s no way for me to take back or change what I did.”

“Would you if you could?”

“Yes.”

“...Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I don’t know.”

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the back of your head as his hands soothingly rubbed over your arms. You sniffled again, swiping away a stray tear before resting your hands on the counter.

“You changed the way that I love, Harvey,” You shook your head. “For better or worse, whether you meant to or not, you changed it.” You glanced back toward him. “I can’t get those bits of myself back. You took them from me.”

“I know. I took them from both of us.”

You nodded, slowly letting yourself lean back against him. His arms curled around your middle, and you heard a soft, almost relieved groan leave him. You let your eyes close as he pressed a kiss to your temple. The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments, allowing yourselves to settle.

“...Stay tonight?” He murmured after a few moments. You nodded, smiling as his hold tightened on you again, as if wary that you would change your mind.

He had a few more smile lines. His hair still mussed the same; he still made little mumbling noises as he slowly rose from sleep to consciousness. He was still a furnace to sleep beside, and he still held you through the night. It was almost a relief that none of that had changed.

Waking up in his arms made you feel like it had when you were younger: safe, and loved, and wanted. You hadn't appreciated it when you'd had it just a few months ago, but you were desperate to catch on to every little bit of him now.

You were never going to be able to turn back the hands of time—to go back and warn him, or yourself, or someone that your first wedding day would be a disaster, that it would set you off on a path that you could never have anticipated for yourself. Discussing what had happened hadn't truly healed any of your old wounds.

But as the sun began to creep over the Manhattan skyline and seep into Harvey’s bedroom, you felt closer to peace than you had in a long, long time.

Harvey snuffled, nuzzling your shoulder as his fingers curled in your borrowed nightshirt.

“You awake?” He mumbled, the same low, gravely murmur that you had once loved, and missed.

“Mmmhm.”

“Want coffee?”

“Yes.”

He yawned widely, pressing his face into your shoulder and warming your skin through the fabric. “Bagels?”

“Sure.”

“‘Kay.”

Neither of you made a move to get either. Instead, you combed your fingers through his hair, closed your eyes, and listened to the steady rise and fall of his breathing as you both fell back asleep.

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#Harvey Specter x Reader #Harvey Specter x You #Harvey Specter/Reader #Harvey Specter/You #Harvey Specter fic #Harvey Specter imagine #Bad Faith

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zepskies · 2 months ago

Text

Lost on You - Part 10

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: And we’re back! In today’s episode, we have a very special guest. 😉

Also, just so you guys know, my podcast interview with the Idling in the Impala podcast is now live! For all the timestamps of key moments, fic recs, and SPN writer shoutouts, see this post (you'll find the link to the video there too).

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 6.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, angst, drug use, PTSD, violence, and another big reveal…

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 10: I Need a Hero

Revenge could wait for one more day.

It all can wait, Ben thought. Despite how vehement he was yesterday, today, he was reminded of how good it felt to sleep in a warm bed with a beautiful woman.

He laid there behind you, on his side. He’d woken up to the sound of music somewhere downstairs, maybe in the dining room.

What time is it? It was hard to remember to keep track of that now, even with the digital clock on the nightstand. It was only midnight, but to his body, it felt like morning.

You were dead asleep. Occasionally you let out soft hums, and other semi-arousing sounds. His lips tugged upward.

Still moans in her sleep.

He drew down the comforter and sheets slowly from your back. He was greeted by smooth skin, except where some marks had been made permanent. His fingers traced carefully over a rough, scarred patch of skin above your hip, as if you had been tased there repeatedly.

His jaw clenched. He could still remember the sounds he used to hear—your screams through the walls of the compound. He remembered when you eventually stopped begging for it all to stop.

“You’re saying this is my fucking fault?!” he said. “Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!” you spat.

For so long after that day, he hated you. He told himself that he didn’t give a shit about whatever was happening to you, because you clearly didn’t give a shit about him.

But the long months wore on to longer years, alone in the dark. Too often, your words would rattle through his head, reach through his chest with ragged claws. No matter how much he fought it, all he had time to do when he was alone, was think.

He vacillated between stubborn, angry indignation, and rethinking every interaction he had with you, with Countess, the rest of the team, and beyond. Slowly, he allowed himself to retrace his steps. If only in his mind, he began to regret certain things…at least where it came to you.

Ignoring you was both harder and easier, since he couldn’t see you.

That all changed a few days ago.

Eisenstein returned to his cell, but this time he wasn’t alone. Two guards held you bound and gagged. You were just as shocked to see him as he was you.

It felt like he was suspended in time.

He saw the signs of aging in your face, but it didn’t matter. Even now, you were beautiful.

The spell of it broke when they threw you down onto the metal table usually reserved for him. He saw now that they had you in a straitjacket to keep your hands covered. The anger built inside him, almost incandescent in his veins.

“What the fuck is this?”

The doctor held a glass syringe in his gloved hand. He drew closer to you with slow, measured steps.

A realization soon dawned on Ben, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. He saw your terror, the way you wordlessly pleaded with him, asking for help with your eyes.

Part of him still hated you, but he couldn’t take it. He wouldn’t allow this sick bastard to hurt you again. Not right the fuck in front of him.

You were still his.

His hand traveled down your bare shoulder, over the gentle slope of your side, and down the curve of your hip under the covers. You shifted and hummed, edging toward wakefulness. Ben settled in from behind, protectively embracing his body around yours in a perfect fit. He began kissing along your neck, slowly.

“Hmmm I’m sleeping,” you said, keeping your eyes closed. He smirked. His lips became more insistent, along with his hand spanning your thigh.

“Wake up, then,” he said. He teased the shell of your ear with his tongue, dragged your earlobe between his teeth. You shivered.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you retorted, smiling.

Ben huffed. “Yeah, keep being a fucking brat. That’ll get me to stop.”

His beard rasped against your skin as his lips found a path down the column of your throat. Acquiescing to open your eyes, you sighed, tilting your head back to give him more room. Meanwhile, his cock pressed insistently against your ass.

You smirked and shifted your hips, grinding back against him. “Maybe I like working you up.”

“Oh yeah?” He moved your thigh over his to spread your legs for him. There the warm, blunt tip of his cock pressed at your entrance, nudging you open with shallow thrusts. You moaned in response, reaching back to slip a hand in his hair.

You were a wanton little thing, he thought, even as he reached around to bury his fingers in your pussy. Already finding wetness between your folds, he gathered some of it and rolled your clit smoothly between his fingers. You gasped his name, your hips bearing down against him.

He took the opportunity to sheathe himself all the way inside you, until his hips were snug against your ass. You made a sound of pleasure that had his balls clenching on reflex. Your voice was a curse, even without your powers.

For once, he fucked into you slowly, with long, unhurried strokes that still managed to rock the bed. Ben was surprised the frame and springs hadn’t given up yet.

“You’re fucking mine, you hear me?” he said, close to your ear. He punctuated his words with deeper thrusts. “Say you understand.”

“Yes,” you agreed on a gasp.

“Yes, what?” He laid more tantalizing kisses along your neck and jawline. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” you said, in a coarse whisper. Ben claimed your lips in a kiss, before he kept moving inside you in languid strokes.

You were a moaning mess, your eyes squeezed shut. You grabbed at your breasts and kneaded them yourself, rolling and pinching your nipples. He strummed more insistently on your clit, until he felt your inner walls finally start to throb around him.

Your orgasm hit you in a slow, long wave as you pressed your face into your pillow. And you clenched so impossibly tight on his cock, it triggered his release as well. His arm curled around your middle and pressed you tight against him as he uttered a sharp grunt. He finished hot inside you, panting heavily into your neck afterward.

“Well, good morning,” you quipped, despite trying to catch your breath as well.

Ben’s hazy reverie broke into a chuckle. He dropped a lingering kiss onto your shoulder.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he corrected.

You shrugged. “Whatever.”

When he pulled out of you, you shivered a little. He rolled onto his back, and regardless of the mess in the sheets, you turned over to rest your elbow on his pillow, leaning over him.

“I should probably tell you something,” you said.

He eyed you in suspicion. “What now?”

You smiled and laid a hand on his chest, dragging your nails through the fuzz there.

“My family’s from Brooklyn, not a small town in Indiana,” you confessed. "Made it up to make me seem more...down to earth. Doe-eyed and likeable."

Ben’s brows shot up. He took a moment to process that information, then he shook his head.

“Fucking figures.” His arm lowered to curl around your lower back, caging you against him.

“I grew up in a brownstone that we had to share with two other families,” you said.

“So you were broke.”

“Yep. When I was born, my family spent all their savings to contract with Vought, to give me Compound V,” you explained. “Their plan was something like, if I became a famous superhero one day, I’d bring us out of our shitty life.”

Ben sighed, shaking his head. “So they pimped you out to Vought.”

“Essentially,” you said. You paused. He could see it was difficult for you, but you talked more about your life—the expectations from your parents, the training, the grueling schedules and the robbing of your childhood.

“When my mom died, I…I realized just how much they took from me,” you said, gazing up at him. “Isn’t that horrible?”

Again, Ben shook his head. His hand had been caressing up and down your back, but it stopped now. Part of him was still reluctant, but he told you about the biggest lie of his life. That he hadn’t grown up poor or struggling. That his father practically owned half of Pennsylvania, and Ben had been a spoiled rich kid. He’d also gotten kicked out of boarding school after starting a fight.

“My father said I wasn’t worthy of his name,” he said, with a wry turn of his lips. “So I went out, talked to some of his golf buddies in the War department, and got myself into the Vought program. I became Soldier Boy.”

You listened with rapt attention. Not interrupting him, just giving him the time he needed to find his words.

“When I came home after the war, my mother was just as proud as she’d ever been,” he recounted. But he didn’t smile. “My father took a good look at me, maybe for the first time in my life. And you know what he said?”

You gave him a questioning look, silently prodding.

“He said I took a short cut. ‘A real man wouldn’t have cheated,’” he said.

When he eventually met your gaze, you at least didn’t look pitying. Just understanding.

“I guess we both have daddy issues, huh?” you said.

Ben shook his head. Then he eyed you. “You don’t look that surprised by all this.”

You smiled, a little sheepish. You stroked your thumb across his chin.

“I can sense when a man is lying to me, remember?” you said pointedly. “I clocked you a long time ago, pal. Mostly any time you told some fake war story... You didn't fight in the war, did you?”

He frowned in offence, even though you both knew he couldn’t deny it.

"I was there," he said.

You gave him a knowing look. "Ben."

"I fucking would've, all right, but by the time I got there it was pretty much..." He waved a dismissive hand. His brows were crunched along with his worsening frown. You felt his embarrassment, and as a result, his agitation. You were glad to finally get the truth in his own words, but you didn't want to work him up in that way either.

You tried softening him with a kiss to his cheek. You rubbed a soothing hand over his arm.

“So what do you want to do when we get our lives back?” you asked, purposefully changing the subject. “After the whole payback thing.”

Ben sat up with you against the headboard. His upset slowly faded away with your ministrations, your gentle touch, and his expression fell into contemplation.

“I always thought I had time, but uh…I thought I’d eventually settle down. Have a couple of rugrats of my own. Raise a family,” he said. “Thought I could do it better than my old man.”

You tilted your head at him with a certain measure of surprise. Out of everything he might’ve said, that one didn’t occur to you. Although, with his upbringing, you supposed it made sense. You smiled.

“You might have a few of those out there somewhere,” you said.

He chuckled. “I've always thought so.”

He looked at you in a way he hadn’t before, a bit gentler, with something else you couldn’t name. Your face warmed as something fluttered in your lower belly.

“So tell me then. What do you want?” he asked.

Once you worked through that bit of nerves, you thought about his question. It took you longer than you thought it would to come up with an answer, but when you did, it was the most honest thing you could think of.

“I want to be happy.”

He paused, not expecting that answer. Then he nodded, with a short hum.

You sighed. “Okay, if you really want to go after Vought, I think I have an idea of where we should start.”

I can’t believe it. This thing still fits me pretty well, you thought. You twisted in the mirror to examine yourself in your old black and violet supe suit, though you didn't bother with the mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was already with your generous host, sat with widespread legs on the couch while he smoked a large blunt. His smoke coiled out lazily.

“You gotta believe me, I didn’t know what they were planning,” said Arthur Cohen. AKA: The Legend. He had been forced into a chair, though Ben hadn’t bothered tying him up. The man knew better than to make a false move. He was a decade older, and lucky for him, even wiser.

His penthouse apartment in New York looked more or less the same. Hit records and old successful movie posters adorned the walls, like a true has-been.

“Yeah, you said that fifty fucking times already,” Ben snarked. “What you haven’t said, is why.”

“To be honest, I never asked,” Arthur said. His expression soured. “Stillwell and Stan Edgar shivved me out of that decision, those uppity fucks. Then they got me fired on some technicality.”

“Allegations of embezzlement, or so I heard,” you said, reentering the room.

Arthur raised a finger. “Not true. That money was well earned backpay.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You know I know you’re lying, right?” You approached the men and crossed your arms. “What’s the lay of the land now?”

“Well, Stillwell’s the new me. Stan’s the new CEO. They disbanded Payback after you disappeared. The others are either working new gigs or are in early retirement. But I heard Vought’s working up to creating a new team.”

You nodded and shared a glance with Ben. He looked a little too chilled out right now. Apparently, Arthur had the good stuff.

“Before we jump into the frying pan with this, I want to go see my family,” you said. “Would you…want to go with me?”

Ben blew out more smoke, gesturing at Arthur. “I’ll keep this one company until he finds our old team. Make sure he doesn’t fuck off to Rio.”

You felt the sting of disappointment, but you sighed and agreed.

“Just…wait for me to get back before you go anywhere,” you said. You saw Ben prickle a little at being “told” what to do. You lowered down to his lips.

“Please?” you said, plying him with a kiss, and a gentle squeeze of his hand. “I’ll be back soon.”

He tightened his hand on yours. His gaze drew over you, briefly with more clarity through his high.

“Fine,” he said. “Be careful.”

You nodded with a smile, giving him one more kiss goodbye.

Your father was the longer drive north than your brother’s house in Queens, so you headed up to find the former first after borrowing a car from Arthur. According to him, your father had moved upstate to Albany after your “death.”

Now, you understood why.

He lived in a two-story house on a whole acre of land, complete with three cars, a pool, and oh yeah, his new girlfriend. She looked good hanging off his arm in Atlantic City, as you saw from a picture on the wall—after you broke into the house, that is. To be fair, they’d left the sliding glass door open in the backyard.

Your dad was dressed like he just got home from the golf course, walking over from the kitchen to the living room. He dropped his glass of wine in shock when he saw you standing there, admiring the only framed picture of you, your mother, and Chris on one of the display shelves. Glass shattered across the hardwood floor.

“Hey, Dad,” you said. You turned to him, not bothering to hide your disdain.

He gaped for a few seconds as he tried and failed to make his mouth work. He pointed at you with a shaking hand, your name finally falling from his lips.

“It’s a beautiful place,” you said. You gestured widely at your surroundings. “It’s nice to see that you finally got what you wanted.”

He tried to go to you, to embrace you, but you held out a hand. Your lips trembled as you fought the onslaught of your emotions. If he touched you, you might not have been able to control your actions.

“Did you give any of the settlement money to Chris and his family? Or did my death just make you rich,” you asked.

Your father’s eyes closed. He released a heavy sigh before he was able to meet your gaze again.

“He wouldn’t take any of it,” he admitted.

Your tears stung in your eyes as you smiled a little. “Sounds like him.”

“Where have you been?” he asked. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Again, he tried to get closer to you, and again, you held him off.

“The only thing I need from you is to keep doing what you’re doing,” you said. “Keep living your life like you no longer have a daughter.”

With that, you stalked out of the house and shot out the door, back to your car, no matter how much he called out after you. You got into the driver’s seat and beat the wheel once, twice, venting your frustrations. But you forced yourself to take in deep breaths to calm yourself. You wiped the tears from your eyes.

He wasn’t worth it.

You wondered if you should go see Chris though. Would it be safe for him and his family? Was Vought watching them as a contingency, if you ever escaped?

You weren’t sure. You rucked through your purse lying in the passenger seat for the weird “cell” phone Arthur had lent you. You wanted to check in with Ben first, before you went anywhere else.

You started to dial, but a gloved hand shot out and injected a needle into your neck. You startled at the sharpness and the feeling of a chemicals rushing through your body. Your eyes darted to the rearview mirror.

All you saw was a blurry, black mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was fucking plastered.

He had been ever since you left yesterday morning. In his unrest, he’d moved on to a handful of whatever opiates Arthur kept in his medicine cabinet.

Christ I’m fucking bored.

He glanced down at the phone in his lap. The one Arthur gave him, along with a list of numbers that had been taped to the fridge. The first number on the list was the cell phone you were carrying. Ben read the rest of them.

Pizza place. Chinese. Swedish massage—hmm, there’s an idea. Handy man. BEST escort service…

Ben rose a brow. An inebriated smile curved his lips.

“What makes it the best escort service?” he asked, and loudly. Enough that Arthur came over from where he’d been making calls in his office, trying to find the rest of his former teammates’ whereabouts.

Arthur raised a brow at him. “You sure that’s a good idea right now?”

Ben shot him a terse warning look. The other man raised his hands.

“Eh, I’m three times divorced. What do I know?” he said, but he sighed and gave Ben a long look. “It just seems to me that you and Sirena got a good thing goin’, that’s all.”

The thought of you managed to cut through the haze of drugs clouding Ben’s mind. He frowned.

“That’s how Missus #1 caught me, with one of my ex-assistants in the jacuzzi,” Arthur said, with a mild grimace on his face. “She got that house in the divorce. Well, that and the kids.”

Ben looked over at him blankly.

Heaving a sigh, Arthur went back to his office.

Ben glanced down at the list of numbers in his hand, and the cell phone in the other. What the fuck was taking you so long then?

He dialed the first number on the list—your number. It rang several times, but you never answered. He called you again, waited a few minutes, then called you a third time. You weren’t answering.

His frown worsened, along with a suspicious prickling up his spine. Fuck...

He'd felt it the moment he let go of your hand, but he'd been too out of his mind to actually listen to his instincts; the same ones that warned him not to let you out of his sight. And more importantly, not to let you go.

He got up from the couch and stormed into Arthur’s office, shoving the door open. Arthur jumped in his seat.

“What? What’s the matter?”

“She’s not picking up the fucking phone,” Ben said. He paused. “Something’s wrong.”

Arthur didn’t ask him the predictable question: how do you know? He just took in the look on the supe’s face and knew it wouldn’t be wise arguing. He tried calling your father's home, but all the man would say was, "She left. She's gone."

Arthur hung up with the man, and for a long moment, he sat pensively while Ben angrily paced the small office, like a tiger confined in its enclosure.

“It’s possible that Vought knows you guys made it back,” Arthur said. At the dark look on Ben’s face, the other man rubbed his chin with a sigh. “Okay. I’ll try to track her down for ya. In the meantime, I’ve got Countess’s address. Maybe she'll even have an idea of where to look for Sirena.”

He slid a piece of paper toward Ben across his desk. He grabbed it, pointing a threatening finger at Arthur.

“Find her.”

You woke with a groan. You knew a drugging when you felt one, and this was it. Someone had given you a powerful sedative.

You were alone in a white padded cell, lying on a cot. It was all too familiar.

Except for the tall figure in black standing in the middle of the room, watching you. You gasped with a jolt, pressing your back against the wall after you sat up. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Irving?”

Black Noir stepped closer until he was sitting beside you on the cot. Tentatively, he raised a hand up to touch your cheek with gentle, gloved fingers.

Your shock gave way to anger. You slapped his hand away.

“What are you doing?!” you said sharply.

Noir backed off at once, as if you’d struck him a real blow. He got up, went over and grabbed a dry erase board that had been lying against the far wall, along with a marker off the floor. He wrote something down on it, then he showed you.

You shouldn’t have come back to NY.

You frowned, both at what he “said,” and in confusion. Why wouldn’t he just talk to you?

“What did you expect?” you asked incredulously. “For me and Ben just to disappear forever? To let you keep ruining our lives?”

Noir paused at that. He tilted his head with a long look at you. With your abilities, you were able to sense that he was disheartened, and even angry. He erased the board with his arm and wrote something else.

Do you love him?

You blinked at the question.

“Who?” you asked, even though you knew.

Soldier Boy

Emotion rose high in your throat, but you worked past it with a swallow, and a deep breath.

“That’s none of your business,” you said.

Noir just stared at you, his head tilting forward. The longer he stood there, watching you, waiting for an answer, the longer you prickled with unease.

He erased the board and wrote the same question again. He held it out for you to see, shaking it once in emphasis.

Do you love him?

You hesitated, but you didn’t want to lie anymore, even to yourself.

“Yes, I do,” you said. “I know what he’s done, believe me, but he isn’t a monster.”

Noir’s head twitched. You felt his anger intensify. He dropped the board onto the floor, startling you, but all he did next was slowly raise his hands to take off his helmet. He showed you what was left of his mottled, disfigured face—the burnt skin and the divot in his skull that had never fully healed.

Your mouth parted in shock as tears sprung in your eyes. You tried to avert them, but Noir stepped forward and grabbed your jaw, turning your face up to his and forcing you to look. Your lips trembled, but you met his gaze unflinchingly.

When he seemed to be satisfied, he released you and stepped back. He placed his helmet back on.

“I understand why you hate him,” you said at last. “But you made your choice when you let them take me too. You…you changed everything for me.”

You were satisfied to feel a lance of Noir’s guilt. You had scars too, and most of them weren’t physical.

“I’m not going to apologize for my choices now,” you said, with a firm glare. “So unless you’re going to kill me, you can fuck off, before I scramble what’s left of your head.”

Your eyes glowed with your power. You opened your mouth to begin your siren’s song, but Noir turned on his heel and exited the door, leaving you alone in the cell.

A fucking chimp sanctuary. Really? Ben thought as he broke into the boundary of the reserve. About a quarter mile into the tall grass, he found a large, if rundown country style house in the middle of the woods.

“Yes, Big Daddy. I’m almost ready for you. Just let me heat these up…”

Ben raised a brow, but he gritted his teeth and kicked through the front door. There she was, Crimson Countess in all her glory, holding a set of anal beads.

She gasped at the sight of him, but she ignored the “client” on speaker on her landline phone, and dropped the beads so she could aim a fiery blast at the intruder.

Ben jumped out of the way and tossed his shield. It hit her square in the chest and sent her flying back into the wall, destroying a bookshelf and the dining table. He walked over to it with slow, heavy steps.

She raised her head with a groan, but then, her eyes watered with disbelief…and fear, when she looked up at him.

“Ben?” she said. “My God…it’s really you, isn’t it? You... you look the same.”

“You don't,” he remarked. He lowered down to grab her by the collar of her suit and raise her out of the rubble.

“How much did the Russians pay you, Donna?” he asked calmly.

She struggled to escape, her nails scraping at his gloved hand. He tightened his hold.

“They didn’t,” she admitted. Tears leaked from her eyes under her mask.

“They didn’t pay you anything?” he said through clenched teeth. “Then why?”

You know why, came sneaking voice in his mind. He tried to pay it no heed, but Donna sneered at him.

“Because,” she spat. “I fucking hated you. We all did.”

Ben’s lips pulled at a humorless smirk. His chest prickled with heat. “I should’ve known you were a bunch of sniveling, backstabbing, fucking cowards.”

“Kill me then,” she taunted. “Is that gonna make you feel better? Going to make you feel less empty inside?”

Ben’s chest began to get that nuclear glow, but he managed to fight it down, back into embers.

“Not yet,” he said. He drew her in closer. She held onto his wrist, her feet scrambling over the debris on the floor.

“I need to find someone,” he said. “And you’re going to help me.”

Ben and Donna sat across from each other on her living room couch, with the landline sat between them. The phone was on speaker as it rang. The longer it took, the more annoyed he became.

“This better work,” he said. She gave him a flat look.

Finally, a woman answered the phone.

“Good afternoon. Stan Edgar’s office. How may I assist you?”

“Hi Gloria, it’s me, Donna,” she said. “I need to speak with Stan as soon as possible, please.”

“Ooh, I’m afraid he’s in a meeting.”

“Trust me, he’s going to want to take this call.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid his next availability isn’t until next week. And next month if you want an in-person meeting.”

“Just tell him to call me back asap!” She said, hanging up the phone in a huff. Ben gave her an unimpressed look.

“That was your big fucking plan?” he said.

She huffed. “You think breaking into Vought is going to be easy? Let alone finding that weasel. He’s got the best security money can buy, and by the way, finding where they’re keeping your little girlfriend isn’t going to be any easier. They could’ve stashed her literally anywhere by now.”

You think I don’t fucking know that? Ben got up from the couch with an angry breath. He turned away from her and rubbed at his beard in contemplation. He shouldn’t have let you go anywhere alone.

I should’ve been there. The thought gripped him, deep in his gut. Guilt was an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling.

“We’re going to need help,” Donna said.

His bad mood took a turn for the worst. He glanced back at her.

“What, the rest of the fucking Scooby gang?” he snarked.

“Or you can try going in alone, guns blazing,” she shrugged. Her sharpened gaze met his. “How fast do you think they’ll kill her, just to spite you?”

Ben’s jaw clenched. Donna leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.

“Or worse. They’ll put you back in a box and ship you back to the Russians,” she said. Her snide smile had him clenching his teeth. “Either way, you’ll never see her again.”

With everything in his being, Ben wanted to fry this bitch to Kingdom Come.

“Get up,” he ordered. “Pack a bag. We’re leaving.”

Donna’s expression fell. “What?"

"You heard me!" he barked, grabbing her arm to pull Donna to her feet. "Get the fuck up."

She struggled against his grip. "Where’re we going?”

“To find those fucking Twins.”

They took her car, a tiny sedan. Evidently, the end of Payback hadn’t been good for Donna’s career. Arthur had told him that, irony of ironies, she now sang at a Soldier Boy tribute act at Voughtland to pay her bills. And as he’d seen earlier, she needed to pad her income in other ways.

She was driving them up to Vermont. It was going to take days, and Ben was already sick of her.

It was a small blessing when they stopped at a gas station in the nighttime. She gave him her credit card to buy some snacks for the road while she filled up the tank. (He took the keys with him as insurance that she wouldn't bolt with the car.)

He returned with a far bigger bag than she expected. She forgot what a human garbage disposal he could be. He tossed the card back at her.

“Your card’s maxed out, by the way,” he said.

She glared at him, but she endeavored to let it go with a sigh, raising a hand to her temple. How the fuck had this become her life?

To minimize being overheard, she stepped closer to him while the gas pump kept going on her car.

“Gunpowder is the easiest one to find next. Mindstorm’s probably hiding in a hole in the middle of the woods some-goddamn-where,” she said, keeping her voice down. She gave her unwanted companion a sly look. “Though I’m thinking you want Mindstorm to stay wherever he retired.”

It brought up an unsavory memory.

After the team turned on him, Mindstorm had been the one to lock his gaze on Ben. For a moment, his feet had been rooted to the ground while Mindstorm tried to shove him deep into his mind. It had given someone the opening to slip a mask of Novichok over his face. He suspected it had been Countess.

Now, Ben turned to her with a glare at her audacity.

“You know, for a massive cunt, you’ve got some brass balls,” he said dangerously. “How the fuck didn’t I see what a vindictive little snake you were from the beginning?”

Donna scoffed in derision.

“I’m vindictive? Says the cheating, lying, bastard,” she snapped.

“Oh, shut your hole. You knew what I was doing, and you didn’t give a shit,” he said with a glare. He leveled a finger at her. “You used me to get exactly what you fucking wanted. Fame, money, and all the perks that come with it.”

Her lips pursed, like she didn’t want to admit it. But if they were airing out dirty laundry, then she wasn’t pulling any more punches.

“Well, I wasn’t the only one. Was I?” she said. “Anyone who ever smiled at you, fawned over you, or sucked your dick was trying to get something from you. Or, they were scared of you. Because you’re a bully. A fucking monster. And sooner or later, Sirena won’t be able to stomach you anymore.”

The thin leash on his temper finally snapped. He reacted, reaching out to grab her by the throat. He was truly thinking about breaking her neck.

Donna choked for air and gripped his wrist. “Without me, you’ll have no one. Good…fucking…luck finding her.”

Ben was furious, but he battled it down, expelling a breath of frustration.

He released her. She coughed and gasped and stumbled a few feet away from him, glaring at him all the while through her fear.

When she was eventually able to stand again, she and Ben shared a look of mutual loathing, but also, of understanding.

It was an uneasy truce. For now.

You were quickly unraveling alone in the dark.

You felt the phantom cold of your old cell. No matter how you rubbed your arms through the leather of your supe suit, you couldn’t get warm. You released a shaky breath and swiped at your tears.

You missed Ben. He had to know by now that you were in trouble, but you didn’t know if he’d know how to find you. Or worse, if they found him first.

You steeled yourself and tried to calm your panic. You counted to thirty. Your eyes flit to every small detail of your cell that you could name: the small crack in the gray linoleum tile, the line of ants slowly creeping along the corner, the brittle wool blanket you were sitting on, laid over your cot.

When your breathing was steady, you tried to think. You didn’t know where you were, of course, but you could try to sense how big the building was.

You did something you rarely did. You cast your awareness outward as far as you could reach.

There were very few male energies, and you only picked up on a few scattered thoughts.

Until you found one. It felt…strong, but young. A kid?

Jesus Christ, what’re they doing in this place? you thought.

What…who’s there?

You heard the voice in your mind, small and afraid and lonely. Before you could answer him, the door of your cell opened to a few familiar faces.

There was an older man in a lab coat that you recognized, but you couldn’t place his name until you read his monogram. Vogelbaum. Followed by Stan Edgar and Black Noir, who came to stand behind you. You knew that if you made any wrong moves, Noir would kill you this time.

Quickly you read their energies as you observed them.

Vogelbaum gave off mild interest in you, but it felt clinical. Stan felt resigned and calculating as he took you in.

“For what it’s worth, I do wish it hadn’t come to this, Sirena,” Stan said. “We didn’t intend for you to get caught up our deal with Russia.”

He may have been telling the truth, but that didn’t mean you cared.

“You’re in the most secure lab we have,” he said, gesturing to your wall-to-wall cell without windows. “No one knows you’re here, and no one will find you.”

You smiled dryly. “So what do you want from me?”

“I want to know how you and Soldier Boy escaped the facility in Russia,” he said, gathering his hands behind his back.

What he really meant was, How did you escape? So we can make the next cell even more effective.

You leaned forward and spat at his shoes.

Black Noir grabbed you by the back of your neck and yanked you back. Your jaw clenched in anger, but you didn’t struggle. Even if you opened your mouth to sing, Noir would snap your neck before your powers had time to affect him.

Stan remained unaffected by your outburst, though he glanced down at his shoes.

“These are handmade Italian leather,” he remarked.

“Even if you find Ben, you’ll never be able to kill him,” you said tersely.

“We don’t need to kill him. Nor will we need to find him,” Stan said. “He’s already looking for you.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart swelled with both hope and dread, though you tried to hide it.

“We have a plan to neutralize him. Several, in fact,” he added, and spread his hands wide. “Until then…welcome home.”

Smug bastard. You glared back at him.

He left, along with Vogelbaum. Black Noir glanced back at you once, then he was gone.

The lights in your cell turned off, leaving you in darkness. You heaved a breath and couldn’t help the tears that found hot paths down your cheeks. You curled your knees up on the cot and held them to your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if you could pretend the room wasn’t pitch black. You focused your breathing, in and out, until your heartbeat began to slow down from its panic.

The kid, you remembered.

You licked your dry lips and tried casting your awareness out again. When you found the familiar energy from before, you reached out to him.

Hey, are you there? you prodded.

Who the hell are you?

It’s okay. Don’t be scared, you said, and you gave him your name. Are you locked up here?

Y-Yeah.

I’m sorry to hear that. I am too.

How can you be talking to me…in my head?

Well, it’s complicated, you admitted. It’s a new power I’m trying out, thanks to my time as a human test subject.

Something told you this kid knew the feeling.

What’s your name? you asked.

Um…John. I’m John.

AN: 🤭 Oh, yeah, we're going there.

How did you like getting Ben's perspective on things? And his "forced" team up with Countess to find the rest of the cast of Payback. 😬 What could possibly go wrong?

Next Time:

Ben hated to admit it (so he wouldn’t), but she had a point. It took him a minute to wrangle in his ire, taking deep breaths to try and calm the power inside him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

This time, it actually did.

His hand fell back to his side, letting the younger man breathe freely.

“Let’s go.” Ben turned on his heel and headed out.

“Where, uh…where’re we going?” Charlie asked, rubbing his sore neck.

“Looks like we’re getting the team back together,” Ben said grimly.

He tilted his head.

“Well. What’s left of it.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 11

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months ago

Note

Hi, may i request some headcanons for Toby, Ej and Ben with a S/O who is really clumsy and always has new bruises?

toby, ej, and ben x reader who is clumsy

my legs hurt i hate how they tense up when i get stressed out it hurts so much notes: reader is gn, ben is platonic as i do not feel comfortable writing romantic for him, heavy hcs for all of them naturally but esp ben cws: edit

toby

he has a little bit of a disconnect between pain and injuries- both for himself and other people. obviously for himself its because of his CIPA, and that leaks into how he perceives others. he knows it hurts for them but he doesnt fully understand to what degree

still, he does his best to sympathize with you when you get hurt- actually you guys likely come up with a system.. a scale to rank how painful it is.. not just for physical pain! i can easily see this being used as a general thing for you guys to rate an experience both lightheartedly and as a serious thing

gets you meds as well as an icepack for your bruises so youre not too sore- hopefully

keeps an eye on the coloring of your skin, headcanon that he keeps tabs of the look of how an injury looks to determine severity.. as well as generally having a curiosity

he doesnt outwardly judge you all that much for your clumsiness, he knows his tics have caused some accidents so hes not going to fault you for a lot of your accidents

eyeless jack

tries to find a reason for your clumsiness, or at least tries to clear it of "okay do you have something internally thats happening", and if you actually do he does what he need to accommodate you

makes sure you dont needlessly get put into a situation that can lead to you getting hurt, he doesnt babyproof his place or yours.. nor does he treat you like youre a kid, but he does make precautions

lightly scolds you for not being careful if youre careless and roll with it as you get hurt- he doesnt want you to get hurt even if its something small

knows some tricks to lessen bruises before they get too bad, as well as ways to relieve any pain and swelling

medical interest really coming in clutch!

he hears crashing sounds and he just preps himself for whats about to transpire

he loves you but he does try to help you manage your clumsiness

ben

he thinks its a little funny that youre constantly hurting yourself, as long as its not a major injury- he also thinks its a little... pathetic... its a little mean for him to think that but hey, hes a bit of an asshole so its to be expected

he cant do much most of the time on account of him not being physically there- stuck in your phone or computer or some other device. but he does try to verbally be there for you- there in spirit!

if hes connected to the internet and hes able he does try to find some solutions to either lessen your clumsiness or how to make your bruises fade faster

tries to see if theres a cause to your clumsiness but its mostly him bullshitting you

"it could be a tumor" "you little shit its not a tumor"/ref/hj

more of a "lets move on and forget about it" kind of person, which isnt terrible especially if you find yourself embarrassed by your clumsiness

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta imagine #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #ticci toby imagine #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack imagine #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned x you #ben drowned imagine

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trumpkinhotboy · 4 months ago

Text

prank war | p.l

pairing. paul lahote x reader

type. requested <3

warnings. curse word?

word count. 1.4k

a/n. since i don't like writing summaries lmao, i think i will make it kind of official when writing requests that if you want to know what it will be about click the link to the request :) this was so fun to write this is def crack BAHA i hope you will enjoy mwah xx

"Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Absolutely positive."

"But what if-"

"Em," you gave your friend a severe look. Emily always tended to be too kind, but this you could not let her sensitive nature make your plan fail. "Might I remind you that we are cruelly losing this battle of pranks? Jared, Embry, and Quil have been launching us. This is our time to make a stand."

"I know but… I still feel a little bit bad about it."

"Do you remember when they put confetti absolutely everywhere in the house? We had to clean that mess for weeks. I think there is still some confetti on my body in places where there shouldn't be."

Emily was a neat freak, she did not tolerate any mess. You knew how she hated that particular prank and how it would be an easy way to rile her up. You smiled when you saw her gaze suddenly turn very dark and resolute. Bulls eyes. Without further questioning, she joined you.

Your plan for retaliation was quite simple, but you knew it would hit your enemies right where it hurt. After a few internet searches, you settled on baking the most horrible and foul muffins known to the human realm. The boys were huge eaters so first, you knew they could never resist the temptation of a hot basket of muffins. Second, they were all known for their sensitive stomachs. It was a classic yet very effective prank. You looked like mad scientists incorporating literally any ingredients possible into the mixture giving it a strange color.

"I don't think it can get worse than that," declared Emily as you looked at the finished product.

You examined the bowl on the counter, feeling like you were missing an essential element. "Wait! There's one more thing we can add."

You went over to the pantry and proudly held up the bottle of extra spicy sauce the boys were keeping for special occasions, aka when they wanted to burn from the inside out.

Emily applauded your genius and watched excitedly as you dropped some in the mixture, then some more, and just a tiny bit more until you had poured at least one table cup of hot sauce into the bowl. If the original mixture didn't make them sick, this would for sure.

"This is a work of art Em, we can be proud of ourselves."

You high-fived and rapidly cooked the muffins before the boys returned from their run.

Your opponents were werewolves, with incredible sense of smell. So you knew you had to be smart about it. Especially since they knew a prank might fall upon them at any given moment. You had planned everything to a T. When returning home, Quil, Jared, and Embry were usually the ones who came in first, which you counted on as you didn't want to prank the rest of the pack. Emily had smartly accounted for the boys' suspicion and made sure to bake two safe-to-eat muffins from the batch so you could fool the three guys into eating.

You made sure to use food coloring to give the muffins a rich brown color and sprinkled cinnamon along with a few other herbs on the muffins to make sure they would smell mouth-watering. You cleared away any hint of your actions and did it so well that when the boys arrived, no one could ever think something was going on.

You welcomed them joyfully with your best angelic smiles. As expected, it didn't take them long to notice the muffins, Quil even going as far as reaching out a hunger-crazed hand towards the bowl.

"Wait," suddenly cut Embry with a suspicious look in your direction. He slapped his brother's hand away. "What's the special occasion?"

Like professional actresses, you and Emily looked at each other. "Since when do we need special occasions to bake muffins?"

You rolled your eyes when Embry bent down to take a big whiff from the basket, but still lost a relieved breath when he didn't seem to smell anything out of the ordinary.

"Why aren't you two eating any?" skeptically asked Jared.

"Because we ate so much filling we might puke but if it reassures you I don't mind taking a bite."

You reached your hand out for Emily to pick the safe muffins from the basket and prayed she didn't mix them up. You leveled your stare at the boys and took a huge bite.

When the cinnamony and chocolate flavors hit your tongue you sighed with relief, putting your reaction on account of the amazing taste. "Delicious as always."

Your performance seemed to reassure them but they didn't grab any yet. Anxiousness rose in your body, you needed to get them to eat before the others came in.

They were still hesitating when Paul barged in, quickly kissed you on the cheek, and grabbed a muffin.

"Paul wait-" "Gonna take a shower," he muffled between chewing.

You stare at the doorway through which he disappeared, astonished. It happened so fast. You couldn't have warned him or else the other three would have known something was up. You turned to look at Emily with panic in your eyes. Her face was blank, her hands gripping the counter. Both of you were paralyzed, what should you do? Were you taking it too far by letting your boyfriend eat the nasty mixture just so you wouldn't raise suspicions?

You stayed paralyzed in the dilemma when finally Embry, Quil, and Jared each grabbed a muffin as you and Emily stared in silence.

They had eaten a good half of it when suddenly you heard Paul screaming and cursing in the bathroom. Everybody looked in the direction of the sound when he stumbled in already wet from the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS IN THESE?"

Immediately, the three other boys looked at each other, then at you two. As if Paul's apparition had triggered the effect of the baked goods, sweat started dripping down their face, a disgusted rictus twisting their mouths.

They stared with horrified expressions. "What did you do?" asked Embry before he ran for the kitchen sink.

Even if you felt guilty Paul had been caught in the crossfire you couldn't help but feel a deep satisfaction as you stared at the three boys pushing each other and fumbling to get a sip of water. A sentiment clearly shared by your partner in crime when Emily said with an innocent smile. "What did we do? We baked you some yummy muffins of course. Isn't that right Y/n?"

"Why yes, we even added a few special ingredients to make sure you guys loved them." You added with a mischievous smile towards the three crying grown men still fighting for access to fresh water.

"That'll teach you right for putting confetti everywhere in MY house," finished Emily, leaning close to them.

They looked at her with what was sure to be fear in their eyes.

"I'm done I'm calling dibs on the bathroom sink," moaned Quil as he ran for the tiny room.

"I'm taking the hose outside!" cried out Jared.

Emily and you couldn't keep your cool from your devastating victory and started dancing around the kitchen, the grunts of pain in the house the most delicious melody to your ears. You were still laughing when you heard heavy steps enter the kitchen. Paul was standing in the doorway, still wet, still with a towel on but this time there was a half-drunk milk cartoon in his hands. A few droplets slid down his chest and the view might have even been appealing if the expression on his face wasn't so terrifying.

He took a step in your direction. "Baby I promise you weren't supposed to eat one of those. It was only for them. I'm so sorry!!"

"You could have warned me, tell me to stop,” he growled.

"But then they would have known. I'm so so sorry my love I promise I'll make you forgive me."

You kept walking back, hands up. Never a half-naked man had scared you this much.

"Oh, you will definitely pay for this." He dropped the milk on the table nearby. "And I think we will start by giving you a little swim in the cold sea."

"Paul it's freezing outside today!!" You protested with a panicked look towards the foggy forest.

"Should have thought about that before sweetheart.”

His lips curved in a diabolical smile as he leaped. You screeched and ran outside knowing damn well there was no way you could escape this.

#ilya writes #twilight #twilight wolfpack #twilight renaissance #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #twilight wolfpack x reader #twilight fics #jacob black #quil ateara #embry call #jared twilight #emily young

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loganwritesprobably · 4 months ago

Note

– Shanks/Ben/Reader (?) with the 1° genre, prompt (q.) and (x.) ✨

I'm a lover of both Shanks and Benn so this is delicious, and I've said it before so but I'll say it again - drunk party games are ABSOLUTELY something that the red hair pirates play, so this is just in character

Find the prompt list here

Content/Warnings: Shanks/GN!Reader/Benn, fluff, intoxication, secret relationship becomes public, use of the term 'daddy' as a joke, a little suggestive

Playing drunken games with the crew were always dangerous. All of them were a little too smart for their own good, but only when you wanted them to be dumb. They never had their wits about them when you wanted them to, but when you wanted them to be stupid, they all became Vegapunk. So, playing drunk games meant you were at risk of revealing things you really didn't want to.

What might you be keeping from your crew exactly? Well, the fact that you were dating your Captain, and first mate. It'd happened totally by accident, and you wouldn't change it for the world, but now you were here and trying to keep it a secret. You weren't ashamed, and you weren't afraid that they wouldn't approve, you just knew they wouldn't mind their business and you liked your privacy.

It would be fine, you were sure.

You sat at the side of the group, beside Gab, leaning your head against the crate he was sitting on. Everyone in the crew was close enough to at least be a little touchy with each other. Yassop threw back his head, and finished his drink, before throwing the bottle aside. "Alright - Benn," you laughed softly, already interested to see what the sniper would come up with, "would you date.. anyone on the crew?" Oh that wasn't as fun as you'd hoped. You met Shanks' eyes, and the two of you struggled not to laugh. "It's alright Benn, you can lie, I can take it." Shanks joked, an arm dramatically draped over his forehead. Everyone was more than used to your Captain's dramatics, so nobody questioned it, just laughing along in their drunken amusement. "Don't break our hearts Benn, you know you want us." You joked, pursing your lips in his direction as if waiting for a kiss, and Shanks doubled over with his laugher, while the rest of the crew shifted more to confusion to amusement.

Okay, maybe they're not that smart, maybe the three of you just.. aren't subtle.

"Do you ever feel like you've missed something?" Lucky asked Limejuice, who just nodded in response, looking between the three of you. Benn rolled his eyes, and smacked Shanks upside the head, flipping you the bird since he couldn't reach you. "Behave, both of you." He told you, a fond smile on his lips. "Sorry daddy." You said, scoffing as best as you could despite the grin you could suppress. Shanks snorted, spitting a mouthful of ale across the sand beneath you, and you couldn't hold back your own laughter after that. The crew around you stared on, bewildered.

"Alright then, one for you, baby," Benn's tone made a shiver go down your spine and a smirk play at your lips, "a dare, no choice since you want to be a brat." "Go on then, hit me with it." You told him, briefly making eye contact with Shanks but you had to look away before you broke down into drunken giggles. "Come here, get in my lap, and kiss me." Benn said, and suddenly you felt far more sober. You had a decision to make, and it was important you made it quickly. Shanks looked between the two of you, concern and confusion stirring in his stomach. Was this really how you were going to go public?

Yes, you decided, when you stood from your spot to approach Benn. You climbed up into his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a soft and gentle kiss to his lips. Out of habit, Shanks pouted at the two of you and the words, "what about me?" left his lips before he could stop them. You and Benn turned to him with laughs and you pulled him closer.

Your lips landed on one cheek, while Benn's landed on the other, effectively quietening him for now. It would have to do, you supposed, while everyone was watching anyway.

Looking around, you noticed the entire crew had their eyes on the three of you, mouths hanging open. "You're all catching flies." You said, sipping from your bottle with ease, still seated comfortably in your lover's lap. Benn shuffled along on his crate so Shanks could sit beside him, their ankles locked together, and you shuffled to lean across the two of them. It was nice. "Lucky owes me fifty berri." Hongo mumbled, the first to regain his ability to speak.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

#one piece #fanfic #writing #reader insert #akagami no shanks #benn beckman #benn beckman x reader #benn x reader #shanks x reader #shanks x reader x benn #shanks x benn beckman #benn x reader x shanks #one piece x reader #gender neutral reader

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aemondapologistfrfr · 4 months ago

Text

His Princess - Pt 5

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

Summary: The dragons and their host are getting restless waiting in Harrenhal and are relieved when they receive instructions from Rhaenyra. Daemon is sent back to Harrenhal, but is prepared to do whatever it takes to keep a clear mind to prepare for what he must face. Y/n and Ben move their host and reunite with Rhaenyra.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, p in v, handjob, green council pov pls don’t h8 me 🧎🏼‍♀️, emo father/daughter talk, wine

Authors Note: ok the father daughter talk is making my daddy issues act up!!, i made a timeline for this fic and there’s an end in sight 🥲 it’s gunna get messy before it gets better and im anticipating like at least three more parts but it could be more🫣

Word Count: 5k

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My cheek is repeatedly rubbing against the stone wall as moans fall my my mouth. Ben has a hand wrapped around my throat and the other is squeezing harshly at my hip. He’s panting in my ear as he continually pounds into me.

“I’ll be surprised if the entirety of this castle doesn’t hear you mewling for my cock.” he breathes out as his hand applies light pressure.

I cry out at his words as I clench around him. He grunts snapping his hips quicker into mine as I continue to whimper. A sob tears through me as my pleasure takes over and I feel his warmth spreading through me. He roughly pulls out and puts himself back in his pants. He lifts my pants back up as I’m still resting my head on the cool stone.

“You’re going to have to learn to have patience.” he chuckles turning me around towards him.

“Me?” I hiss looking up to him. “You were the one who dragged me in here.” I narrow my eyes at him.

“Was I?” he smirks down at me licking his lips.

“Yes, you imbecile.” I seethe pulling him towards the door.

“Imbecile? That’s new.” he hums. “You’re always so sweet to me, my Princess.” he kisses the side of my head escorting me out of the servants closet.

Rhaenyra has sent word of there being no texts or records of such a strong pulling bond. She says she assumes it’s the matter of how strong the bond between Silverwing and Vermithors is. They spent decades sequestered together in the pits, their bond forever strengthening.

With that linking me to Ben our feelings and emotions have been heightened and more attuned to each other. I actually quite like the bond, it has made us sync together but the desire for one another is so strong. Ben was right enough that the entirety of Harrenhal probably knows of our trysts.

“My Princess, my Lord,” Lord Darry smiles at us as he rounds the corner.

“How are you this morning?” I return his smile hoping I don’t look flushed.

“Doing well. Has there been any news of what’s to come?” he looks to me with hopeful and eager eyes.

“As of right now we are awaiting the Queens command. We are to continue to build our strength and work on moving as a lethal unit.” Ben answers for me looking to Lord Darry.

“Yes, of course.” he nods his head. “Also,” his voice trembles. “The farmers are running low on animals to provide for your dragons. Could you possibly take them hunting?” he looks between us nervously.

“Of course, Lord Darry.” I nod my head to him. “I know they have large appetites.” I smile hoping to calm his nerves.

“Indeed, my Princess.” he nods to me. “My Lord.” he nods his head to Ben before scuttling down the hall.

“Since when did everyone become terrified of us?” he chuckles pulling me along the hall.

“Since we came back with another full grown dragon. Claimed by you. Now you’re known throughout the host as Bloody Ben rider of Vermithor. I would be scared to face you.” My words covered in adoration as I turn my head to him.

“You would be scared of me?” he lets out a loud laugh as he leads us out of the castle.

“Of course, you’re fucking psychotic.” my words cause a smile to split across his face.

“First imbecile and now psychotic? I’m starting to question if you truly love me.” I roll my eyes at him and approach our curled up dragons.

“We have to hunt for our food today.” I look up to Silverwing who seems to scoff. “I’m not the one who has eaten the Riverlands dry.” I put my hands on my hips.

“Maybe we can get them to bring back food for us.” Ben chuckles to Vermithor who lets out a chuff. He has caught on to the language quicker than I thought and I’m ceaselessly amazed when he forms flowing sentences.

“If anyone is getting catered to, it’s us.” I huff turning to him.

Vermithor thuds his head back on the ground and breathes out deeply. Silverwing snaps her teeth at him and nudges him with her snout. Ben turns to me smiling as our dragons seem to have a small spat. They both turn to us and dip their wings down for us both to mount.

“Looks like we’re all flying.” I say triumphantly as I begin to climb up to the saddle.

“We’re just coming with to pick out the food for you two to get.” he taunts from his saddle.

Silverwing shoots into the sky leaving Ben and Vermithor on the ground. I hear him before I see them come up on our right. Vermithor is coasting on the breeze while Ben is lounging back in the saddle. I roll my eyes at them before we dip down to the river.

She snaps fish out of the river and spits them onto the shore. Vermithor circles the river and lands where she’s throwing the fish. After Silverwing has retrieved a fair amount of fish she comes back with one last mouthful. On our descent she spits the fish out onto Vermithors head and lands across from him.

Giggles burst out of me as I take on the scene. Ben is quickly removing his clips and sliding down the side of Vermithor. I climb down the side of Silverwing and start to walk towards Ben. I try to hide my smile as I see some fish remains on his clothes.

“Come here, my Princess.” he opens his arms and runs to me to try to hug me.

“Ben, no.” I giggle running away from him. “Maybe you both shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” I turn my head behind of me but don’t see him anymore. “Ben?” I ask tilting my head. I scream as his arms wrap around me.

“What were you saying?” he rubs himself all over me.

“Ben,” I fume wiggling out of his grasp.

“It just means we get to bathe together when we get back. I know how much you love that.” his eyes darken at the offer.

“Mm, so you’re saying you made me smell of fish out of love?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“You started it.” he chuckles.

“I don’t want you to bathe with me.” I toss over my shoulder as I begin to return to Silverwing.

“You’ll change your mind once we get to our chambers.” he says confidently as we see Vermithor go dip his head in the river to get rid of the fish remains.

“Silverwing hasn’t bathed with Vermithor just as I won’t with you.” I raise my chin at him as I climb up Silverwing while Vermithor nudges Ben’s back.

“Don’t be so stubborn.” he smiles up at me.

“Fly,” Silverwing shoots us into the sky leaving them behind.

Vermithor comes into view as we glide on the wind back to Harrenhal. We land outside of the gates and I strip out of as many layers I can before I parade myself around smelling like fish. I walk back into the gates with Ben trailing behind me. The servants are already ushering hot water into our chambers by the time we finish climbing up the steps.

“You can find somewhere else to bathe.” I hum as I begin stripping the rest of my layers.

“I will not. This is practically a pool, Y/n.” Ben starts to remove his clothes.

“Then you can sit on the opposite side.” I purse my lips as I dip into the steaming water.

He sinks into the water across from me while staring at me the whole time. I roll my eyes as I begin to take out my braids so I can thoroughly wash my hair. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Ben slowly inching closer.

“I said the opposite side.” I hum shooting my eyes to him.

“I give it five minutes.” he smirks looking to me as he begins to scrub himself.

I roll my eyes as I continue to wash my hair and try to avoid my eyes lingering on him for too long. I know he can feel what I want from across this tub but he is right, I am feeling stubborn. A moan slips out of my mouth as I run my nails over my scalp. I lean my head back to wash out the soap, exposing my hardened nipples to Ben.

“Y/n,” his voice rough as I sit up again and look to him.

“What?” I tilt my head.

“You know what.” his eyes darken as they dip down to my chest.

I slip my hands beneath the water and trail them up my chest until I’m cupping my breasts. Whimpers fall from my mouth as I bring my fingers to tease my nipples. I look to Ben with low lids and see he’s clenching his jaw. He starts to move across the pool to me and I shake my head.

“I said opposite side.” I say breathlessly.

He sits back down and huffs. One of my hands slip below the water and I bring it directly to my throbbing bud. A moan falls from my lips as I begin to swirl around my clit. My eyes screw shut as I focus on my pleasure as my mind drifts to Ben. I peek an eye open and see his flushed face. He bites his lip as I see his arm flexing from his hand beneath the water.

“Gods you torture me, my love.” his voice like gravel.

“Ben,” I suck my lip into my mouth as my hips chase my hand.

“Let me come help you.” his voice borderline begging.

“You didn’t want to help earlier.” I pout as I move my fingers faster.

“What can I do to atone?” he starts moving towards me.

“Be quiet and make me come.” I whine as his hands slide up my thighs.

His hand replaces mine and his mouth immediately attaches to mine. I sigh against his lips as his fingers move in the way that has me gasping. He kisses down my neck and starts to speed his fingers. I reach out and wrap my hand around his hardened length and begin to pump.

“Fuck,” he groans into my mouth as I tighten my hand.

My hips grind against his hand as his rock into mine. We become a moaning mess in each other’s arms until we both come down clinging to each other. We rise out of the bath still tangled in each other and hastily dry off. He leads me to the bed where there is no end in sight to our pleasure.

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The Lords sit around the council table avoiding looking at us for too long. I don’t know if it’s from terror or embarrassment. We take our seats next to each other and assess the map laid in front of us. Our host continues to grow as smaller villages send men to fight for my mother.

“There’s been a raven from your mother.” my head snaps up to the Lords around the council chamber.

“Why am I just hearing of it now?” I hold my hand out for the letter.

“Your guard said you were indisposed after your hunt with your dragons. We’ve only received it within the hour.” he avoids my eye contact.

“I will speak with my guard. There is never a reason you won’t be able to reach me or Ben concerning pressing matters.” I nod to them.

Gods I’ve been so caught up in Ben that now these Lords think I’m just fucking Ben instead of working with the host. We have to really start trying to make these boundaries because these distractions will be less than welcome on a battlefield.

“It is no problem, Princess.” Lord Mooton is quick to assure me.

I open the letter which is written in High Valyrian should it fall into the wrong hands. Ben looks over my shoulder to read it with me.

Y/n and Ben:

It seems as if Seasmoke has claimed a rider(Addam) for himself. Corlys has been keeping much from us apparently. The time is ripe to take Kings Landing. The people are on our side and if we can lure Aemond and Vhagar out we can take it. I fear he will come to Harrenhal and I need you both with me to take Kings Landing. As much as I don’t want to I’m sending Daemon back. It’s as I said: my wants are simply wants. I will send another raven with further instruction, but as of right now ready the host to move on the Crownlands within the fortnight.

I love you both - Rhaenyra

“It seems as if we will finally be moving out of Harrenhal.” I look up to the Lords and hand Ben the letter to finish working out what it says.

“When and where?” Lady Mallister looks to me with exuberant eyes.

“We will march out within the fortnight to take on the Crownlands.” I study their expressions and all seem delighted to finally leave this crumbling castle. “Her Grace will send us another raven with further instructions.”

“We shall alert our commanders and begin preparing to march. The men will be excited and ready to move.” The Lords look to us nodding.

“Excellent,” Ben says smiling to them. “We will call a meeting when we know more information. For now you are dismissed.” I rise from my chair as the Lords leave.

I shut the door behind them as they exit and turn to Ben. I sigh and take my seat once more. I look over the letter once more to make sure I truly read everything properly and groan.

“Were you able to decipher the letter?” I look up from the letter to Ben.

“Daemon coming back here is fucking madness.” Ben shakes his head. “At least we’re taking the host with us. What kind of trouble can he get in on his own?” he raises his eyebrow to me.

“Daemon on his own is even more dangerous.” I sigh rubbing my forehead.

“What is the plan to lure Aemond and Vhagar away? You say people are terrified of me, but my Princess,” he sighs as he slides his eyes to mine. “Aemond terrifies me.” he says hushed.

“Aemond and Vhagar are Rhaenyras biggest foe. After Rooks Rest it’s clear he has no loyalties. I don’t know what Rhaenyras plan will hold, but hopefully we will be far enough away as to not feel his wrath.” a shiver goes through me.

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Y/n and Ben:

I have let word travel of your host at Harrenhal in Kings Landing. I have confirmation that word of this has made it to Aemonds council. Daemon will be to Harrenhal before the end of week and you will begin marching. You will meet with Addam, Baela, and Jace, along with myself, in Rosby. I have had my host take over the castle there and we’ve begun to amass. From there the commands will come straight from my mouth. Gods above, if Aemond should come upon you flee or hide, just please come back to me.

I will see you both soon - Rhaenyra

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Green Council Pov(Alicent still a member lol):

“That whores brazen daughter thinks she can summon a host? Against me?” Aemond slams his ball to the table.

“It would seem as if she’s also found a dragonseed who has claimed Vermithor and now rides at her side.” Lord Larys winces as Aemonds chair groans back as he rises.

“More bastards on dragons.” Aemond chuckles. “No matter, Vhagar and I can take them all.” he walks over to the map and begins to move his men around.

“Aemond, I should hope you would stay here.” Alicent speaks up with worry heavy in her voice as she thinks of Aegon.

“Dragons are fighting this war, Your Grace. We must send a dragon.” Cole looks down to his hands trying not to think about the events of Rooks Rest for the umpteenth time today.

“I shall fly out at the end of the week and meet them myself. I’ll finish burning down Harrenhal as it should’ve been in the first place.” Aemond glares at Lord Larys before he dismisses the council.

“Aemond,” Alicent lingers behind.

“Yes, mother?” Aemond purses his lips as he leans back in his chair.

“I do not wish for you to go to Harrenhal.” her eyes are glassy as they search over Aemond. “All of my children keep getting taken from me.” her voice shakes as she pleads silently.

“And whose fault is that?” he whispers as he looks her over before he rises from the table leaving her alone with her thoughts.

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Y/n Pov:

“Welcome back,” I look to Daemon as he dismounts while I try to usher him in through the gates.

“I will sleep in a tent outside of the castle gates, I must keep a clear mind for what’s to come.” he nods his head looking to the crumbling castle.

“What’s to come?” I tilt my head looking to him.

“Death.” he turns to Caraxes and unties his bags letting them fall to the ground.

“I’ll have a tent brought out to you, I’ll see to it you’re brought food and water.” I hum turning to go back through the gates not wanting to listen to the cynicism.

“No need, your mother has sent me with provisions for the rest of my stay here, but thank you, daughter.” he looks to me over his shoulder and I turn once more on my heel not in the mood to have this moment.

I walk through the gates shaking my head. That fucking martyr. He truly plans to face Aemond alone, but if anyone could do it, it would be Daemon. Our relationship has always been complicated. We’re too much alike, but not in the right ways to make us properly bond. That does not mean I wish for him to die. The thought alone has my eyes watering as I walk up the stairs to our chambers. I wipe my tears angrily before I enter not understanding this sudden rush of sadness.

“Ben?” the doors rip open in front of me as he runs into me.

“What’s wrong?” he looks down to me worriedly assessing me physically before pulling me to him and sealing us in our chambers.

“I knew in the back of my head. I knew why he was coming here, I just didn’t want to face it.” I bury my head in his neck.

“What do you mean?” He rubs my back soothingly.

“Daemon. He’s going to face Aemond so we can put Rhaenyra on the throne.” my voice a whisper.

“Alone?” I nod my head in confirmation.

“I could stay and help-“

“Absolutely not.” I pull back shaking my head. “You will do no such thing. You’re to ride at my side by the Queens orders. And mine.” I will command him if I must.

“Of course, my Princess.” he studies me. “I just want to help ease your burden. I can feel your pain.” he pulls me back to him smoothing my hair and holding me tightly.

“My father is a stupid arrogant ass, but I look up to him nonetheless. I love him regardless of his actions even though it makes me question myself and my morals..” I trail off feeling tears prick at my eyes. “My mother seems to have faith in him, so I will too.” I inhale deeply and relax on the exhale.

“It seems now would be the time to talk to him.” Ben looks down to me softly.

“I will not say goodbye tonight.” I shake my head as I feel a tear slip down my cheek.

“We leave out tomorrow and it won’t be a goodbye. Just a talk. I can walk you down and wait for you by our dragons. I’ll bring a book to study and it will be fine.” he offers as he wipes away my rogue tears.

“Okay.” I nod my head.

Ben grabs a book on dragon riding and battle strategy while I grab bottles of wine. He leads me out of our chambers and out of the main doors. We slip out of the main gates and I see Daemon sitting around a fire poking it absentmindedly.

“Take your time, my love.” Ben gently pushes me in the direction of Daemon who looks up to me.

“Y/n and wine,” a smile pulls across his mouth as I take a seat next to him. “No Ben?” he looks around.

“He wanted to study and be by Vermithor.” I offer him one of my sealed bottles. “These are checked daily and from our personal trove.” I reassure him as I open mine.

“To you and Ben,” he grabs the bottle by its neck and raises it to me.

“To me and Ben,” I raise my bottle to him with a smile plastered on my face.

“He treats you well?” he hums taking a swig.

“Very well, I think you would actually like him.” I smile to him.

“I have since he handed you that knife in the council chambers to kill me.” he smirks looking to me.

“I’m surprised you remember that.” I chuckle raising the bottle to my lips again.

“There’s not many who would be so bold, besides you of course. So I knew in that moment you had found your match.” I look to him, shocked by his words.

“I’m surprised you approve.” I chuckle shaking my head.

“Then that fool claimed Vermithor. Y/n the bond between those dragons is something mighty. I know with them in the skies again your mother will sit the throne. We all have a part to play. Mine is here with Aemond. Yours is in Kings Landing with your mother and Ben at your side.” he wipes his face and I squint at him.

“Are you fucking crying?” I gape at him.

“You were crying when you came here so I’ll hear none of it.” he waves me off with his hand. “Daughter, I do love you. I truly hope tomorrow isn’t goodbye.” his voice wavering.

“No, I will see you in Kings Landing.” I look to him as tears flow down my cheeks steadily. “I love you too, father.” I wipe my face before sipping my wine.

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We’ve been on the march for two days now and have thankfully seen no sign of any hosts or dragons. I try to have us stick strictly to marching by the moon so our dragons and our host can keep more cover. By day our dragons rest under tree canopy’s as the men rest surrounding them.

“I feel like it’s been too quiet.” I turn to Ben in our makeshift bed.

“They only have but one dragon and she should be on her way to Harrenhal any day now.” he bites his lip as his nerves get the best of him.

“The closer we get the more on edge everyone is. I can feel the energy coming from our host and the dragons. The Greens still have a host of their own that we must keep an eye out for.” my mind has been racing with everything that we must be doing and everything that could go wrong.

“Let’s just have a night without strategy and planning. Everything is up to the Gods now, we just have to move into place.” he holds me closer to him.

I lean up and place a soft kiss on his lips. He props himself up and kisses me more fiercely before pulling me onto his lap. Our tongues dance as we pour all of our worries and fear out of us. I pull back from him and quickly remove his shirt. Ben smiles up at me as he removes my shirt next.

His hands cup my breasts as I lean down and capture him in another kiss. I groan into his mouth as he begins to tease my nipples. We pull apart to take off our pants and reattach as if we were never apart. I slide down his length as he holds me tightly to him.

“You’re going to have to be quiet.” he grunts against my lips as I continue grinding against him.

“Mhm,” I nod my head.

Ben lifts my hips up and slides into me the angle making my gasp. He slowly lifts my hips and I rest my head against his neck hoping it’ll muffle some of my sounds. His hands go to my hips and start a steady pace. I whine into his neck as my hips start to move faster. His hips snap up into mine causing a moan to fall from my mouth.

“The whole host is going to hear you,” he growls frustrated.

He pulls me off of him and kneels behind me. He lifts my hips and tells me to make my noises into the pillows. I wrap my arms around the pillow and bring it to my mouth while he slides into me once more. He starts a brutal pace that has me sobbing into the pillow. He hasn’t said anything about my noise so I completely let go.

“Fucking taking me so good.” he grunts out as his fingers dig into my hips.

A moan rips through me as I explode around him. His hips falter but continue pounding into me. He chases his own high and I arch my back to offer us both a new sensation. My elbows collapse at the pleasure he takes from my body as he begins to shutter inside of me. He collapses on the bed next to me and I finally turn my head to him breathing heavily.

“Marry me after this war.” his words soft as his eyes search mine. I nod my head vigorously and pull him to my lips once more.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

We’re only a days march out from Rosby and the road still remains clear. Ben and I patrol the skies and still don’t see the Greens host. I fly further ahead and look around the border of Rosby and see the host my mother has gathered. The Dragons are all curled up together and I smile at the thought of seeing my siblings again. Silverwing turns us back to our host and we land next to Vermithor.

“Anything?” Ben calls up.

“They’re awaiting our arrival.” I call down before I meet him on the ground. “The host she has is a bit larger than ours.” I look to him nodding my head adding up our numbers.

“How many?” he leads us to the council tent.

“I would say at least six thousand strong.” I shake my head at the sheer size of the host once it’s combined with ours. “Along with four dragons.”

“The Greens will never stand a chance.” he smiles to me and I can’t help but smile myself.

“Good morning, my Lords.” I greet as we enter the tent. “The road is clear to Rosby and my mother and her host await us.”

“How fares Her Graces host?” Lord Mooton asks.

“Four dragons and six thousand men.” I watch as their eyes bulge.

“Victory is inevitable.” Lord Darry lets out a breathy laugh.

“We will be taking Kings Landing with upwards of ten thousand men and six dragons. We’ve worked for many moons to move as one and will be adding more with tomorrow’s sun. I know not what my mother’s plan holds but we will have a meeting with the next steps when we meet with Her Grace.” the River Lords nod at me and Ben before they begin to shuffle out of the tent to begin readying their men.

“Can you feel the promise of violence in the air?” Ben looks to me.

“I can and I must admit that I’m scared.” I look to him trying not to think of everything that is happening around me.

“You were scared our first battle together too. We came out victorious then and we will this time.” he assures me pulling me into a hug.

“My single command stays the same: Don’t die.” I hug him tighter.

“Oh no, you’re stuck with me forever.” I feel his chuckle rumble through his chest.

We pull apart and go to our dragons to begin preparing them to head out once more. Our host is absolutely buzzing and we make the decision to push through the day to Rosby to join with my mother’s forces. I fly at the front of our host and Ben coasts near the end of the line.

Moondancer and Vermax meet us in the skies and my siblings smile wildly as their dragons twirl around us. Our men slowly make it to the camp as we begin to land by the other dragons. We make it to solid ground and take in the excitement around us.

“Y/n, Ben,” my mother sighs out in relief and pulls us into a hug.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌

ps: i get so fkn emo that so many of you enjoy this story like it makes my heart hurt fr 🖤

pss: i’m almost done w the next part 😅

Part 6

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