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macfrog · 4 months

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backspin | bbf!frankie

surprise! we're taking a quick detour to fuck around with our brother's best friend again. what else is new.

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x fem!reader summary: you try to get even with frankie. it works. warnings: reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, enemies to lovers, mention of throwing up, alcohol consumption, cursing, oral, more dickhead frankie and more sassy reader word count: 6.3k

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So, you fucked around with Frankie.

It’s no big deal, right? It was just a one-time thing. There was tension, you guys relieved it. Scratched an itch. Served a purpose. You still fucking hate the guy, and he still fucking hates you.

Nothing’s changed.

Right?

Mal sprays wine all over the kitchen table when you tell her. Gargles a, Sorry – fuck – sorry, through what little of the alcohol is left in her mouth.

You wipe your face clean in the crook of your elbow. It’s in your fucking eyelashes. You blink the room back into focus, and – “Jesus, Mal!”

Dark droplets teeter around the edge of the table, threatening to plunge straight down onto your mom’s chair cushions – thus damning you to her very own personal hell for all eternity. You can feel the flames licking at your feet already.

Your best friend rips a sheet of paper towel and drags it over the wood – white bleeding violet at the first swipe. “Why’d you tell me as I was taking a sip?”

“I didn’t think you’d fucking hose me down,” you hiss, taking the soaked crumple from her hands.

“You didn’t think I’d be a little surprised that you and Catfish Morales hooked up? Are you fucking ser–? Actually, you know what? I’m not that surprised.”

You glare at her from the sink, upper lip curled.

Mallory Bennett has been privy to your every thought since you were six years old. Hand in hand, arms swinging as you marched into first grade together.

Most days, you barely have to open your mouth – one flinching expression, one flash of eye contact, and she can parrot your own thoughts back to you.

Francisco Morales going down on you two nights ago is the first thing you’ve ever had to confess to her. It’s the first thing she never saw coming.

“Shut up,” you breathe, eventually thawing and sweeping over to your chair. The table sticks to your arms when you sit back down.

“There’s a lot to unpack there, alright? A lot of tension. I mean, you gotta fuckin’ feel it. You two hate each other’s guts! And you’re both single, and you’re only here for two weeks. And – he’s Santi’s best friend. It’s just…it’s the perfect storm.”

Another exasperated sigh passes your lips. You settle back, eyes closed, and lift your palm. “Enough. I’ve heard enough.”

“You wouldn’t’ve told me if you didn’t wanna talk about it. Was he good?”

“Mal.”

“Was he?”

“I was drunk. I don’t remember.”

“Bullshit.” Her face screws up; the gold hoops wobble from her ears. “Like hell you don’t remember. Tell me.”

Your eyes slip from her over to Ange. The old pup pushes herself to her feet with a huff, her joints stiff and bones frail. She moseys over to your side. You scratch the back of the dog’s neck, shrugging to Mal.

“Maybe if you hadn’t cheated your way to a free round of drinks, I’d remember enough to share.”

“Fuck you,” she snorts, voice rounded by her wine glass. “Maybe that just means you gotta do it again – sober.”

You scoff.

Angie looks up at you – watery eyes blinking, tail slowly fanning.

Mal’s already recounting the time Frankie snitched on the two of you for raiding your mom’s makeup bag. She waves her hands in the air, eyes bulging.

Do it again. The thought actually makes you want to laugh.

You and Frankie – you and Catfish, hooking up again. As if the first time wasn’t a total mishap, the biggest mistake in judgement you think you’ve ever made.

He drove you home, he made you come, he left.

One nil, right? You have one up on him. You got yours, and he probably went home and jerked off to the thought of it. Alone in his room, tongue licking at the corners of his mouth where he could still taste your release.

You won.

You won, against Frankie Morales.

“…and then fuckin’ – Pope tried to help us tidy it up, remember? He was scrubbing the hell outta the lipstick on the mirror. But that asshole – Frankie,” she seethes, “he went downstairs as soon as your mom came home. As soon as she…And he fucking ratted!”

She growls, balls her fists. Screws her eyes tight shut like the enraged eight-year-old she was back then. She still has the same little crease between her brows. “What the hell got into you that night? We hate him, junior!”

Ange slumps to the floor with a sigh.

“Me too, girl,” you mutter to her, twirling the base of your glass. You look back up at the crazed woman opposite. “I don’t know,” you insist. “I was drunk, we were on our own…It just happened, alright?”

Her shoulders roll in a shrug. She lifts her glass to clink the neck of the bottle against the rim, purple wine spilling in a swirl. “Maybe it’s the start of something.”

You scoff. “Mal. Come on.”

“I’m serious. Perfect storm.”

“Nope. No storm. Stop that.”

She jabs a tipsy finger in your direction. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you messed around with your arch fucking menesis– arch fucking…with – with Frankie, and you just – still feel nothing for him?”

“No,” you admit, “I feel plenty for him. I hate his fucking guts. I used to wish every birthday that he’d disappear. One time in church, when Father Joseph told everybody to bow their heads ‘n pray, I actually asked God to kill him for me.”

“Not Father Joseph!” Mal shrieks, grinning. “He was so fucking hot, by the way, for a dude with no hair. When the sunlight caught that cueball just right…that was a real fucking miracle. Goddamn.”

You bat her snicker away. “Me and Frankie used to brawl so bad that our moms had to separate us,” you continue. “I had to sit in the front seat if we drove anywhere – and that still didn’t stop him! He’d reach around the headrest and flick my fucking ear.”

“You gave as good as you got, though. I’m surprised he can even still get hard, the number of times your foot…” She swings her leg and kicks your thigh softly. “He was an ass, I know.”

“He was an ass then, he’s still an ass now. That’s all there is to it.”

“Okay,” Mal concedes. Her dark, glossy hair surfs around the lip of her wine glass when she leans in. “But you wouldn’t’ve told me unless it was still on your mind. ‘s all I’m saying.”

You throw yourself back with a quick, angry shake of your head. Your tongue flicks over your top lip.

“All I’m saying,” she repeats, holding her hands up.

But I won, you think – in a petulant little whine. Like you could shake your fists and stamp your feet at the same time. You got one up on him. He – he made you…

He made you come. He saw you. Felt you. Tasted you.

He knows what you sound like, whimpering his fucking name. Drunk on him, begging him not to stop. And now, the image of him fisting his cock over the memory of it feels less like a victory, and more like –

Another fucking loss.

You have no idea what he looks like, coming undone. No clue what his fragmented moans sound like as they tear from the bottom of his throat and rain down over you. You don’t know the weight of him in your hands, the wet slip of his tip as he leaks over your tongue.

Mal’s onto something new. Taken by a Facebook post from some girl you went to high school with. Biggest head I ever saw on a fucking baby, she mutters, wincing and then sprinkling a handful of salted peanuts on her tongue.

Frankie’s cocky smirk clouds over the sight of her at the opposite end of your kitchen table.

Francisco fucking Morales. The asshole wins again.

All at once, you hear his rotten little jeers in your ear – curbed painfully by his middle finger searing across your lobe. You feel his heavy palm on your skull, fingers scrunching roughly into your scalp.

A temper boils between your ears, heavy over your head. It feels juvenile, as if it’s armed with a Barbie in one fist and a juice box in the other. Sunken and wallowing in shame and rage, red-hot waves which wash over you as Mal cackles at some video on her phone.

You feel Frankie’s hands around your legs; the flicks of his hair tickling the inside of your thighs. The swarm of butterflies deep in your belly as you watched his figure swagger back across the street to his truck.

Loss after loss after loss. Each one wearing a satisfied smirk and a Standard Oil baseball cap.

Each one staining deeper than red wine in varnished oak.

You grit your teeth.

Frankie –

fucking –

Morales.

Santi floats the idea of a barbecue. Because of course he fucking does.

He says his place is too small, too many neighbors in earshot – and as long as Ms. Teller takes both hearing aids out, she won’t even know it’s happening.

“Just the guys ‘n us,” he chirps. “You, me, Will, Benny…Fran-kie…?”

You gag down the line. Body instinct whenever his name is mentioned, worsened by the latest developments in your relations. Ange glances up from her spot beneath the oak tree – her milky fur stark against the velvet green grass.

Santi chokes on a laugh. “Mal, too, if that helps with the Catfish thing.”

You lean the phone on your collarbone, sitting forward to apply a second coat of polish to your toes. The red gloss shines in the early morning light. “He is not welcome in my house.”

“First off: not your house. Second –”

“My house for the next eleven days.”

He says your name flatly. It sounds like a door being slammed. It shuts you up as though you’re nine again. “…Second: he won’t be in the house. He’ll be in the backyard.”

“You owe me,” you protest. “For ditching me the other night. I’m cashing in, Santiago. You want a cookout? No Frankie.”

Your brother sighs. “And how am I supposed to explain that to him, hermana?”

“Don’t,” you tell him. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

Santi mutters something incoherent, though you know from the razor-sharp tone of voice that it’s no compliment. Still – he’s a man of his word.

Eventually he agrees: no Frankie at the barbecue.

The store is chilly, plucking goosebumps along your arms.

You round the aisles, scanning your list. You’ve been battling with a janky front wheel which has squealed and veered off-course at every fucking turn. It almost mowed over an elderly woman in the meat aisle.

You’ve cleared most of what Santi told you to get. Drinks, ice, buns, meat, corn on the cob. He wanted to use Mom’s dinner plates – but that, you countered, runs the risk of them being scraped, chipped, or worst of all, smashed.

That’s not a risk you’re willing to take. So you’ve piled in some paper plates and plastic cutlery, too – just to be on the safe side.

The cashier cuts a familiar figure at the checkout: her navy apron and full-cheek grin. She’s a staple sight from your childhood – a pair of dimples and sweet giggle trailing after you as you’d follow your mom’s skirt back out to the parking lot.

Her eyes widen and she clasps her hands when she notices you approaching. “Well, would you look who it is?” she sings.

“Hey, Pol,” you say, fanning yourself with your scrawled shopping list. “How you doing?”

The belt jolts your supplies closer to her bejeweled fingers.

“Same as always, honey. Rockin’ and rollin’. What brings you back to town?”

“Housesitting, dog-sitting…Santi-sitting. Mom and Dad are on a cruise.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she says, nodding. “She told me last week. Caribbean, right?”

You nod, sucking a deep, unenthused breath in.

Pol hums, smiling to herself as she clicks the barcode for your hotdogs into her computer. She begins telling you what her granddaughter thinks of second grade – her two times table and the tadpoles they’re keeping in class.

Your eyes sweep around the store as she chats. Everything looks the way it always did, a time capsule from the nineties. Speckled floor and fluorescent lights; placards hanging overhead which sway each time the great glass doors pull open.

Baskets of fruit and veg lined alongside a lawn set on offer. Beside that, heaps of flowers and stacked planters. Beside those, a discarded shopping cart. And beside that –

Frankie fucking Morales.

Well – the silhouette of him. It’s pretty bright outside. But you’d recognize the outline of that dumb baseball cap anywhere. He’s talking to one of the assistants.

You hand Pol the cash Santiago gave you, and she trades it for a receipt. Dumping your bags back into your cart, you nod to her in thanks and stalk off towards the sliding doors.

Frankie tosses and twirls a pack of cigarettes in his hand. The assistant is telling him about some big college football game.

Your grip tightens on the janky-wheeled cart. You feel your skin begin to heat; prickling all over your arms, flushing down between your shoulder blades. Gathering somewhere south of there.

But you walk by him with purpose, choosing to ignore that warm feeling. Choosing to ignore…him.

He doesn’t turn. Thankfully.

The doors grant you exit and you give your cart one good shove across the threshold, back out into blinding daylight and sticky heat.

“Alright, man,” Frankie’s voice calls from behind. “Good talkin’ to ya.”

You nail your eye on the car. It’s, like, fifteen paces. You can make it fifteen steps without having to deal with him, right? If you take longer strides, it’s probably more like ten.

Ten steps, and then you’re in the sanctuary of your car. You don’t have to see, speak to, or deal with him.

So why are you slowing down?

You’re slowing down. You are. You’re borderline fucking loitering. Quietly hoping he’ll notice, catch up, maybe talk to –

You click the unlock button. The car beeps in response.

Five steps out. The front wheel is rattling. You’re doing your best to ignore it.

Four.

Three.

The wheel spins, flitting like a confused compass needle, and stops dead in the opposite direction. The cart hurtles out of your grip for less than a second before you recover it and haul it close to your car, cursing under your breath.

But a force – stronger, steadier – reaches around your body and takes hold of the thing. It guides it back to course. A force which, when it speaks, sounds a shit ton like –

“Woah, lil Santi,” Frankie mutters, and your chest leaps.

You freeze in your tracks. His weight is still around your back. He’s right fucking there, when you turn to look.

The brim of his cap bumps against your head. He steps back with a smirk on his face. He’s so fucking smug, you could slap him. “You tryna cause a goddamn accident with that thing?”

You pull a disingenuous smile. “Hey, Fish. Ever tried minding your own business?”

He feigns a wounded sound and clutches his chest. “Ouch. I’m just looking out for ya.”

“Feels more like you’re pestering me.” You pull on the door handle and slot the first bag along the backseat.

Frankie lifts his chin, peering in at the contents. The star-spangled plated, the dripping bags of ice. “Having a party?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked.

You yank the bag from his sight, spinning to push it alongside the others. “Nope.”

He crosses his arms. “Sure looks like you’re having one.”

“Well, I’m not.” You slam the door and turn back to him, staring blankly.

“Forgot,” he sniffs, “you need friends to have a party.”

“Hilarious. Those shit jokes how you make all your friends?”

He nods, impressed. Pouts his lips like an annoying little fish. Suits his stupid fucking nickname. “Then why’d Benny call ‘n ask if I’ll be at Pope’s parents’ tonight?”

Shit. Fucking – Benny.

You sigh, eyes rolling closed. Your fingers massage your temples. “It’s not…it’s…”

“Cookout, right? Yeah. That stings, baby. No call, no text. You owe me, remember?”

“I owe you jack sh–”

“Two drinks,” Frankie clips, holding a finger up to shush you. “Three, if you count saving your car from one hell of a scratch.”

“Fuck off,” you breathe, and then give voice to, “It’s a small gathering of friends, and – now you, apparently.”

He sways forward, bumping the cart into your hip. “You need me to bring anything?”

You heave it straight back at him, hopefully hard enough to bruise. “Tranquilizer gun, if you’ve got one.”

“Can get something even stronger, if it’s a party you’re after.”

Your eyes thin. “Wouldn’t be my mom’s favorite for much longer if she found out you were doing coke in her backyard.”

Frankie smiles. That trademark Catfish grin. “I’ve done worse in her kitchen, baby.”

He’s so goddamn cocky. So full of it, it makes you want to scream. He studies you, eyes shadowed by his cap. His hair flicks out around his ears, dark curls doused in golden sunlight.

When your eyes trace the shape of his jaw, the wiry hair above his top lip – the faint flicker of a memory glows across your skin.

The weight of his hand on your stomach, pinning you to the bed. The bristling feeling ghosting the inside of your thighs. Your desperate wet, his tongue covering ground across your body like claiming territory.

Every shade of wrong. Ignoring every atom in your body – betraying every version of yourself for ten minutes of euphoria. He brought every numb nerve under your skin to attention, the second he knelt between your knees.

But he’s looking at you now, the same way he did the other night. It’s boyish and dangerous. A naked match just waiting to fall.

Maybe you’re waiting for an excuse to drop it.

Frankie gives his cap a quick tug, and makes off for his truck.

“See you at seven, Garcia.”

Daylight melts into dusk and with it, goes the sharp sting of summer. A pale blue rolls across the horizon, covering the yard in a hazy sort of chill. A relieving breeze, like satin over newly burned skin.

You’re still fucking sweating.

“Are you going to help me, or you just gonna lie there and text your girlfriend?” you call across the yard.

The dark figure spilling over the edge of the hammock grunts in response.

“Santi.”

Your brother groans, rolling free from the marigold fabric. He strides across the lawn, swinging an arm down to ruffle Ange’s ears. “Not a girlfriend,” he says, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “She’s…she’s more of a…”

You lift your hand. “Not something I need to know.”

He laughs and looks at the spread on the table. He lifts the corner of a tricolor napkin, straightens a plastic fork. The foil over the hamburger buns crinkles. “We did a good job. Looks great.”

“We?” You scoff, slapping his wrist away. “Yeah, me and the fucking dog, more like.”

“How much did it all come to? The food and shit?”

You shrug. “Like, forty dollars. I don’t know.”

“Gave you sixty. Where’s my change?”

You frown, hands on your hips. “If you don’t know how to budget properly, that’s not my problem.”

“And if you don’t know when to just lie and say you spent it all, that’s not mine. Twenty bucks, kid.” He holds his hand out, fingers beckoning.

The squeal of the gate interrupts, followed by a barrage of voices. Will and Benny and Mal and – as you lean back to watch them parade through the yard, you spot the figure of Frankie at their heels.

“Pope?” Will calls. “Pope, do me a favor. Remind me which one of us threw up at Busch Gardens that one time. Remember – right after we rode Gwazi?”

Santiago chuckles. “I remember Mallory wearing her raspberry slushie.”

Will guffaws in Mal’s face.

“I spit up!” she protests. “I spit up in a flowerbed. I was not wearing my slushie.”

“You were fluorescent pink the whole day,” Will says. He slings an arm around your shoulders. “You remember, lil Santi?”

You frown. Yeah, you fucking remember.

You remember being forced to sit between Frankie and Mal the entire way home. Santiago got dibs on the front seat by pretending he was carsick, and Mal had to sit by an open window so she didn’t stink your dad’s car out with all her raspberry-flavored puke.

You and Frankie bickered the whole journey. Both absolutely certain that the other was leaning too far over your seats. Your dad vowed he’d never let you both in his car at the same time, ever again.

“Mhm,” you grit, shooting daggers at your best friend.

She mouths a Sorry, and then places her salad bowl in the middle of the table. “Enough about throwing up. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

The boys spend twenty minutes arguing over how the barbecue works, before a single bit of food is cooked. You and Mal watch from the table, sneaking Ange slices of cheese and giggling when Will and Benny break into their fifth argument of the night.

Santi and Frankie take charge, shoving the brothers out of the way.

Pope passes over the meat, while Frankie mans the grill. He lifts his cap and wipes his brow with his bicep, giving his head a shake as he flips burgers and turns sausages.

And no, you’re not watching him. You’re focused on Mal and her story about some guy from work. Or – it might be a guy from her yoga class. The instructor, maybe? You’re not sure. Frankie just flapped the collar of his shirt and the hem lifted, exposing a sliver of his tummy.

You’re not watching him, though.

He runs his tongue along his top lip, focusing on the sizzle and spatter of the grill. His arm tenses, turning the tongs over and over. Wide shoulders stretch when he reaches for a plate.

He’s laughing quietly at whatever Santi’s babbling about at his side. His eyes are stuck on the barbecue in front of him. His fingers twirl around the tongs again. He never looked so lean and so broad and so fucking different, all at once.

Weird different. Good different?

You feel your cheeks flush with heat. This time, it’s not so much anger, as it is –

Oh, shit.

Mal gets up for a refill at the same time Santiago jogs inside to grab more meat. You and Frankie are alone on the patio – Will and Benny are kicking a ball for Ange to chase on the grass.

Morales turns, and you instantly stare down at your beer. You take a forceful swig as he approaches.

“Hotdog?” he asks, holding a plate down to you.

“Huh?”

He glares at you and scoffs. “Are you dumb? Hotdog.” He slips it onto the table in front of you.

You squint at the grill marks, and then squint up at Frankie. Puzzled and…offended, at the same time. You come back to your body with a jolt. “Why the hell are you–? Have you laced it with something?”

He shoots a glance over his shoulder, tongue between his teeth. “No, I haven’t fucking laced it with anything. I just figured you should have the first one, since you put all this on for us. But – Jesus, give me it.”

Your fingers lock around the paper plate when he tries to steal it back. For all that he’s a dick and might actually try to poison you – you’re fucking starving.

You figure you can stomach the poison.

Frankie sighs. He lets go. “I’m tryna be nice, alright? You know nice?”

“I know nice. You’re not it.”

“Shut up and eat your hotdog, lil Santi.”

You mimic him in a squeak as he strolls off, shaking his head. Still, the second he’s back at the grill, you rip into the hotdog.

Frankie stays at the opposite end of the table for the entire meal – closest seat to the barbecue, and furthest seat from you. There’s too much chatter, too much hilarity being thrown back and forth between you for either of you to kick up a row.

Probably better for the guys’ sakes, but – you want to fucking row.

It’s like a hit, now. A rush of electricity, any time Frankie looks at you for longer than it takes his face to twist into a grimace. You’re hunting for ways to ignite something – anything. Looking for an excuse to drop that naked match and set the whole thing alight.

Because it’s fun, when you’re in the heat of it. Feeling his eyes on you, as hot and angry as flames. Being suffocated by the smoke of it all; breathing in less and less air and more…him.

And, anyway – who knows you better than the one person who pisses you off the most?

As the sun is snuffed by the heavy hand of dusk, you disappear to a quieter corner of the yard. Tucked between two thick beech trees, you throw yourself into the hammock – one leg draped over the side, swinging idly through the night air.

A beer bottle balanced on your tummy, the round base seeping a chilled ring into your shirt. The swish of leaves overhead and the annoying midges at your ears for company.

That is – until the sound of footsteps over crisp grass, and the creak of an old, splintered garden chair disturb your peace.

Frankie adjusts his cap, flatting his fringe beneath it, and sits back. “You never change, do you, Garcia? Still the same little longer you always were.”

You hold your hands out, gulping back beer – and glee. “Can I fucking help you? I’m minding my own business.”

“Thought you might want some company.”

“Not yours, dickhead. You think I’m way the hell over here ‘cause I wanted you to come annoy me?”

He hums, picking at a flake of paint on the armrest. “Sure wanted me to annoy you the other night.”

“Alright,” you clip. “Cheap shot. You been practicing that one all afternoon?”

“Since I saw you at the store.”

You roll your eyes.

Frankie slips a cigarette from its pack and lights it, tipping his chin to blow a white cloud to the sky. “You’re too much fun,” he tells the stars.

You squint through the dark, staring at the glowing cherry. “What?”

“You. You get so pissed, so easily. Always have.”

“Well, you antagonize me. Always have.”

His cheeks lift. It’s something softer than a smirk, still laced with too much attitude to be a smile. “That’s ‘cause you were always around. Everywhere Santi went, there you were. Closer than his shadow.”

“Well,” you glower, “’s what happens when you have a big brother. You’re void of love; I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“No, I get it,” he says. “It just got fun to mess with you, after a while.”

“Uhuh,” you take another swig, “so is that what you’re doing? Messing with me?”

Frankie’s shoulders jump. “You tell me. There were two of us in your room that night.”

You swing your legs down to the grass. It’s brittle under your socks when you stand, still focusing on the end of his cigarette. “Damn, you really can’t shut up about it, can you? How many times have you tugged one to the thought of it?”

“Tugged one,” he snickers, but he seems nervous – watching as you approach. “What age are you?”

You push his knees wider, slotting between his thighs. “Which part does it for you? What sends you over the edge?”

“Come on, lil Santi,” Frankie says, averting his eye. “You’re embarrassing yourself now.”

One knee up, resting on the crease of his jeans. You lean forward and nudge his hip, lay your hands gently on his shoulders. “I bet you still hear me in your dreams.”

He scans up and down your body, lingering on your bare thigh. “Not – not gonna work, kid,” he promises, shaking his head. “You still annoy the fuck outta me.”

“Right, right.” You pinch the pale stick from between his teeth. “’cause nothing’s changed, yeah?”

His head sways in agreement. He’s distracted, watching as you lift your hand to your mouth.

You smile down at him. “’cept you know how I taste now, so.”

You slot the damp end of the cigarette between your lips and suck. Sharp, acrid heat sails over your tongue and down your throat, filling your chest in one inhale. You cough a little, batting the smoke as you blow it out.

“Tastes fucking disgusting,” you croak. “How can you smoke these?”

Frankie’s eyes never leave your lips. “You get used to it.”

You take another draw, letting the smoke soar through the space between you. “Gross,” you say, and prop the cig back between his lips. “Just like you!”

“Sh…shut up,” he groans, adjusting in his seat.

“Make me.”

But he doesn’t bite. Doesn’t flinch. He just stares back, rolling the smoldering stick between his thumb and finger. Running his tongue along his teeth.

You spill the last of your beer onto your tongue, cocking an eyebrow at him, and push from his lap.

You make it no more than five steps, before that same weight from the parking lot is around your shoulders.

He pings the cigarette somewhere in the grass, and grabs onto your elbow.

“Fran– Jesus – Where are we–?”

He drags you through the dull dusk to the other side of the lawn, ignoring the click of the motion sensor. You’re thrown through a wooden door onto cold concrete before the yard light floods over you.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Weak slivers of moonlight illuminate each tool hanging from the wall. The fairy lights outside lose their battle against the darkness the second they creep through the window.

Before you can sling something mocking at him, Frankie has you pinned against the wall.

“You want me to make you shut up?” he growls, teeth grazing your neck. His fingers slip behind the waist of your shorts, plucking at the button. “I’ll make you shut up. Make you shut up all goddamn night.”

“Frankie,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his shirt. You push on his chest, walking him backwards over to the workbench.

The thing shudders when he rocks against it.

“The fuck are you doing?” he murmurs, watching as you kneel before him.

“Getting used to it,” you reply.

You pull his belt apart, loosen the fly on his pants, and pull until they’re low on his hips.

Frankie holds onto the bench with a white-knuckle grip. He lays his hand over the crown of your head, rubbing small circles. A laugh slips across his tongue. “This what you’ve been thinkin’ about?”

You ignore him, instead focusing on the solid shape in his underwear.

His hips flinch when you drag your palm along it. He’s hard already. He hisses at your cold fingers on his stomach, tensing as your knuckles skim below the elastic.

And then…he’s in your palm. All of him. Frankie fucking Morales.

You’re trying not to think too deep about it.

Your fingers wrap around him, barely meeting around his width, and you slip him from his boxers.

His cock springs free, swaying once, twice – then settling to the right.

Your mouth fills with saliva. Suddenly – there’s no way not to think too deep about it.

He’s…he’s big. He’s thick; smooth and sculpted, veins trailing around his shaft. It’s not like you ever considered what he’s walking around with before, but looking at it now – you can’t believe it’s him.

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss him all the way down to the hair at his base. A wet trail, lips curving around the size of him. You run your tongue up and down, circling the tip and toying with it.

Frankie cups your cheek. “Pretty little mouth,” he utters. “Put it to good use, huh?”

You don’t need him to ask twice.

You sink down on him. Every inch of him – every aching, choking inch. Your jaw slackens to take him; nails digging into his thighs when he bumps the back of your throat.

“Oh, shit, baby,” he hisses. His hand comes down on your head a little too heavily.

You yelp and pull back, gasping when he slips out. “Prick,” you breathe, closing your lips around his tip again.

“Just too sweet with it,” he murmurs, guiding himself back across your tongue.

You suckle on him, using your hands to pump the inches your mouth can’t take.

Frankie’s head tips back, panting at the roof. His hips thrust to meet your movements. “Feels so – goddamn – good,” he moans, and you hum with glee.

You take his balls in your hands, kneading them as you work your way lower. He’s so deep in your mouth that it makes your eyes water. Each slip of his tip against the back of your throat makes you gag, pulls a lewd, muffled sound from your chest.

It shouldn’t feel like this. You shouldn’t be enjoying it this much. But he’s falling apart under your fingertips, he’s unwinding right before you. He’s whispering your name, begging you not to stop. Just like that, just like that, just like that. Oh, fuck, just like that.

It’s addictive. Now that you know how he looks, how he feels, you’ll never go back to before. When the most thrill he gave you was a burning temper; feeling your pulse jump in your throat with rage.

This – whatever the fuck this is – is all you know, now. Pulling threads from one another, watching the way they unravel. Watching each other unravel. Flashes of eye contact, salt and slick and sex dripping from every secret word.

Frankie’s hips jerk. His cock spasms.

You don’t want him to come down your throat. You don’t want him to climax when he’s too deep for you to taste it.

You want him all over – your lips, your tongue, dribbling down your chin. You want to mix him with your saliva and swallow; warm, salty, Frankie.

He got his taste. Now you want yours.

You bring your hands up to his thighs, purposefully pushing back off him.

His grip loosens, and he looks down. Brows low and close, eyes blown wide like he’s higher than any drug could take him.

He’s as addicted as you are.

“My mouth,” you mumble, head of his cock circling your glistening lips. “In my mouth.”

“Yeah?” he says, and the weight of his cock slaps on your bottom lip. “That where you want it, baby?”

“Mhm.” You wrap your lips back around him.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” Frankie spits, laughing. “Shit – just like that. Yeah, that’s it.”

Three, four more soaking strokes of your tongue and he’s twitching again.

You pull back only enough to rest his tip on your tongue, feeling the pulsing heat as he comes. Watching the way his face tightens, the pull of his brows as it overcomes him.

His eyes stay locked on you. Your fluttering lashes, your puffy, glossy lips. He fills your mouth and then some – semen spilling from the corners and dribbling down your jaw. And the sound he makes – this broken, scattered moan, bordering on a fucking whimper – is fucking perfect.

Frankie’s hand locks at the base of your skull, holding you steady until he’s done. His cock slips from your bottom lip. He gives one last satisfied sigh, petting your head as you stroke him slowly, tenderly – swiping kitten licks at the dripping mess of him.

“Fuck,” he moans, letting his eyes close over. His weight slumps against the workbench. “The fuck do you spend so much time yapping for when you’re that good with your mouth?”

You hum in amusement, tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. He’s softening, but still a decent size. Still a weight to it that makes your cunt clench around nothing.

One last little kiss, and you tuck him back into his boxers. You drag the back of your hand across your chin.

Frankie holds his hands out, and you pull yourself up. He fixes himself into his jeans, turning away to do up his belt. He had his cock in your throat two minutes ago, and here he is pretending to be shy.

He turns back around, half disappeared to the dark shed. “I, uh…I don’t want you to think that I came here just to…just for that.”

Your tongue dabs at the inside of your cheek, all salty. “Then this is awkward, ‘cause that’s the only reason I hadn’t kicked you out yet.”

He laughs, dropping your gaze. “You…” he shakes his head, “…are such a little shit, you know that?”

It’s nicer than he would’ve worded it half an hour ago. But still – having an exchange with Frankie that doesn’t involve spitting insults or jagged glares, warms your blood in a way that’s new and…unsettling.

“We should probably…” You toss a thumb over your shoulder, eyes flitting to the string bulbs outside. “We don’t want them wondering what’s…you know.”

He nods and strides over to the door. The wood squeals against concrete as he pulls it open.

The summer swirls around you again, sweetening the stuffy heat of the shed. Mal’s voice surfs through the breeze – she’s still arguing over the Busch Gardens story.

You make to step out, and Frankie’s arm halts you.

He opens his palm. “Even,” he tells you. “We’re even.”

He seems sure of himself. Sure of you. He looks you in the eye and doesn’t blink.

You smirk. Your hand slips into his, letting him shake your fist once. You stare straight back at him.

“We’re just getting fucking started, Francisco.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales fic #frankie morales smut #bbf!frankie #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

Text

Let the Light In

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Fingering, male masturbation, smut. Word count: ~1.6k

Summary: Having stumbled back too late from the pub, Tom finds Lois and Douglas have locked him out for the night. Thankfully, the girl across the road takes pity on him.

Author's note: Day ten of the Smuffmas prompts - "bed sharing and accidental stimulation". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

“Lois! Lois! Come on, let me up, don’t be tight!”

The shouting filters through to her subconscious, and she grumbles, slowly blinking her eyes open, mind foggy with sleep.

“Lois! It’s freezing out here!”

She flicks on the lamp on the bedside table, lifting her watch to look at the time.

Almost 1am. Bloody pillock.

She has lived opposite the Bennett family her entire life, and though she doesn’t know them well, they’re neighbourly, exchanging polite “hellos” when they pass in the street. Though Tom’s is usually accompanied by a wink that makes her skin feel too hot.

Over the last year or so, she’s grown used to being woken up by Tom stumbling back home at some ungodly hour, waking her up as he shouts for his sister, Lois, to open the window and let him up into their shared bedroom. He knows he’ll cop an earful from their dad, Douglas, if he comes in through the front door. It’s usually double locked anyway, so his key wouldn’t work even if he were to try.

Lois has never left him out on the street for this long though, but she can’t blame her, she’s probably sick of it by now.

“Lois!”

Fuck’s sake.

There’s no point in leaving him out there, his shouting will wake up half the street. She considers it a good job that her own dad works nights, and that her mum has taken to wearing earplugs to bed so that he doesn’t wake her when he returns in the early hours of the morning.

She sighs, throwing off the duvet and stepping out of bed. She parts the curtains, lifting the sash window and shivers as the coldness of the air outside chills her skin through her nightdress as she leans out.

Tom stands outside of his house, leaning back with a lit cigarette between his lips as he stares up at his bedroom window. He’s about to shout again, when she interrupts.

“You’re gonna wake the whole bloody street if you keep on!” She hisses.

He turns, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and exhales a tight line of smoke through pursed lips.

“She won’t let me up,” he calls back. “don’t s’pose there’s any room at your inn? It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow, after all.”

“It’s Christmas Eve right now. Have you got any idea what the time is?!”

“Tomorrow doesn’t start ‘til I wake up, sweetheart.”

He flashes a lopsided grin up at her, and she has to fight the urge to smile back as she feels familiar flutters in her stomach.

Cheeky git.

“Wait there,” she sighs, sliding the window closed.

She wraps herself in her dressing gown, picking her way carefully down the stairs, before switching on the hallway light and opening the front door.

Tom is there already, leaning against the doorframe, the crushed butt of his cigarette inches away from his feet.

“You’re a star. Shall I take the sofa then?” He asks, crowding the small space in which her family hangs their coats as she closes the door behind him.

“Absolutely not. Last thing I need is dad coming back from work and seeing you sprawled out in the living room, he’ll throw a fit. Shoes off.”

Tom bends down, unlacing and kicking off his shoes. “Where you putting me?”

“You can kip in my room. Bring those with you.”

“Oh,” he smirks, “if you insist.”

She rolls her eyes, making her way back upstairs, with Tom following close behind.

“You can sleep on the floor,” she tells him, chucking him the knitted blanket from the end of her bed, and the extra pillow she sleeps with.

“Thanks,” he sounds almost disappointed as he catches them, setting them down and busying himself with shrugging out of his jacket and leaving it on a heap on the floor with his shoes.

She had expected him to sleep fully clothed, so she is shocked when she hears the metallic clink of him opening his belt as he lowers his trousers. Feeling her skin prickle with heat, and her heartbeat begin to race, she quickly turns away, shedding her dressing gown and climbing into bed.

She pulls the duvet up around herself, remaining facing away as she listens to the rustle of clothing as he pulls off his jumper, and arranges his bedding.

When it finally grows quiet, she leans over to turn the lamp off and lays back down.

“Night then,” Tom says quietly.

“Night.”

She lays there in the darkness, eyes closed, willing herself to fall asleep and yet it won’t seem to pull her under. It isn’t helped by the relentless shifting around and sighing she can hear coming from the floor beside the bed.

After five minutes of listening to Tom toss and turn, and grumble to himself, she groans and finally switches the lamp back on, leaning down to look at him.

“Can you not just go to sleep?!” She whispers in frustration.

He pulls himself to sit up, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s uncomfortable down here. And I’m cold.”

She presses her lips into a tight line, before exhaling loudly through her nose. “Fine. Come on then.”

Shuffling to the far side of the mattress, she throws the duvet back for Tom and he climbs in eagerly.

“Smashing,” he says with a wink, before turning the lamp off.

They lay back to back and, in her tiny single bed, the angle pushes both of them to the far edges of the mattress, neither one of them comfortably having enough space to stretch out and go to sleep.

“This is awful,” she complains quietly.

“Mmm,” he agrees. “Let me just…”

Tom rolls over and her breath catches in her throat as she feels his chest press against her back, his body slotting itself against hers.

Admittedly, it’s comfier like this, they both have more room, and yet she is certain she won’t sleep a wink with the heat of his body so close to hers. He must be able to feel the way her heart thuds in her ribcage.

He shifts slightly and she feels the press of a bulge against her backside, she knows precisely what it is, and it sets her pulse racing. Instinctively, without thinking, she presses back and his breath shudders hotly against the shell of her ear, his nose pressed into her hair.

Tentatively, his fingertips spread out over her hip, pulling her back against him as he rolls his hips forward, and she feels sticky heat pool between her legs as he hardens against her.

She’s not entirely sure why she’s allowing this, just knows that it feels good and she doesn’t want it to stop as they move rhythmically together, both chasing a friction that neither can quite achieve.

“Have…have you ever…” he whispers, trailing off.

She swallows thickly, afraid to disappoint him, but wanting to be honest. “No.”

“Can I touch you?”

His hand tightens on her hip and she nods. “Yes.”

Slowly, his fingers trail down her thigh, until he reaches the hem of her nightgown. His hand travels the same path again, only this time upwards and against her bare skin.

She whimpers as he cups her mound through the cotton of her knickers, the pads of his fingers pressing against the dampness of the gusset.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he breathes shakily.

“Sorry,” she whispers back, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

“Not a bad thing, darlin’,” she can hear the smile in his voice, “nothin’ to be sorry for at all.”

His hand slides upwards, pressing flat against her lower abdomen, and then slides down again, creeping beneath the waistband of her underwear.

“Fuck,” Tom grits out, as his index finger slides between her folds, gathering her wetness before circling her pearl.

She buries her face into the pillow, to stifle the moan that leaves her. She has touched herself before, but it has always been hesitant, secretive, just enough to feel nice. This makes her feel as though her body is on fire.

Tom shuffles behind her, and for a moment she wonders what he is up to, until she feels the brush of his knuckles against her back. She doesn’t need to look to know that he’s pulled his cock out and is stroking himself. The idea makes her throat run dry.

His breaths come in hot puffs, the slick sound of him pleasuring himself, coupled with the squelch of his fingers as they slide and circle against her is lewd, and she knows she ought to feel ashamed, but she is desperate to fall from the edge that he’s eagerly pushing her towards.

She screws her eyes shut when his digit slides inside of her, her walls clenching around him as he curls his finger upwards, dragging against her and making her thighs shake.

“So tight,” he groans, before withdrawing, circling faster against her sensitive bundle of nerves with newly applied arousal.

She whines, arching against him and she feels the movement of the hand he has on himself speed up, as quiet grunts escape him.

“You’re close, aren’t ya?”

“Please…”

“Let go. Come for me.”

She bites down on the pillow, muffling the squeal that bursts out of her as her thighs clamp around Tom’s wrist, and her entire body shudders with the force of her peak. She feels like a bottle of pop that someone has shaken too hard, every part of her body coming apart in tiny bubbles.

Tom presses his face harder into her hair, his nose touching her scalp as he groans low in relief, his hips stuttering against hers as he finds his own release.

Slowly she turns to face him. His blue eyes shine in the moonlight, his full lips slightly parted as he breathes raggedly. He leans in, brushing his lips against hers, but not quite kissing her as they lay there together in blissful, tired silence.

“You’ll let me in next time, won’t you?” He rasps.

The double meaning is not lost on her, and yet it does nothing to affect her answer.

“Yes.”

#tom bennett x reader #ewan mitchell #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett smut #tom bennet world on fire #world on fire tom bennett #tom bennett #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fan fic #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fan fic #world on fire fanfic

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alltheirdamn · 4 months

Text

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 9 Act 1, Scene 1

Summary: Time passes, but the memories remain. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 6.7k Warnings: **THIS CONTAINS SERIES SPOILERS** angst, language, mentions of alcohol, brief mention of vomiting (tw for anyone with emetophobia), slight duel pov A/N: Well... the imposter syndrome has hit me HARD. I'm extremely discouraged by this chapter, but i hope its a decent enough follow-up to what y'all read last :/ bear with me, the last two chapters will MORE than make up for it. i promise.

Masterlist | Ko-fi

Time didn’t exist anymore.

You woke up. You went to work. You came home.

Over and over, the cycle went, and the days passed with no significance. You didn’t eat much, your appetite dwindling just as much as your motivation. It started to show in the way your clothes hung on your body and how your face thinned out. If you cared, you would go to the store and actually buy food, but the possibility of running into Joel kept you away.

Joel.

Two weeks had passed since parent-teacher conferences—two weeks since you had hidden the book far away. You considered re-writing your lesson plans for next year; you never wanted to teach Romeo and Juliet again. You weren’t strong enough to analyze a story you had shared so intimately with someone you now considered a stranger because that’s what Joel was now: a stranger. A stranger you could still pick out in a crowd of a million people, a stranger whose lips were still imprinted on your skin even after countless hours spent in the shower.

He was a stranger, and you hated him.

You were perched on the couch with a glass of wine—as most nights went now—when your cell phone buzzed on the coffee table. You didn’t reach for it initially; it was most likely your mom. She had tried calling a handful of times since you had hung up on her weeks ago. You never once called back, but you listened to the voicemails when you were drunk enough. Your dad had been discharged last week and started physical therapy for his hip. Stella and her boyfriend were moving in together somewhere in downtown Boston. And Beth…your mom never once uttered her name. She knew better than to do that.

But the continuous buzzing of your phone began to irritate you, and you reached for it with an exasperated sigh. An unknown number flashed on the screen, igniting a sudden burst of anxiety inside your chest. Setting your glass down, you inhaled and answered the phone.

“Hello?” You cautioned.

Your name filtered through the receiver, a voice you weren’t expecting to hear.

“Bennett?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he sighed.

“I didn’t think you’d reach out,” you said. “I tried to see you in the hospital, but Natalie…” You let your voice drift off.

“I know. She’s not big on the idea of talking to you at all.”

“I’m so sorry again, Bennett. Joel shouldn’t have done that. I really don’t understand why it got to that point. I—.”

“I deserved it,” he said, cutting you off mid-sentence.

You shook your head, your fingers knotting through the tangles in your hair.

“No, Bennett. No, you didn’t. He could have killed you,” you argued.

“He’s a man of his word, I’ll give him that,” he laughed.

It was odd to hear Bennett talk so casually about this as if Joel hadn’t pummeled him into the ground. He should be mad, so why wasn’t he?

“Should I be waiting for a call from your lawyer soon?” You asked wearily.

“If I wanted to come after you or Joel legally, I would be the one to do it. But that’s not happening,” he sighed. “It's too messy of a situation, and I really don’t want to go through the hassle. Natalie says otherwise, but she doesn’t really understand the situation.”

“The situation,” you echoed. “Joel told me his side of things after they took you to the hospital. I still don’t remember anything, Bennett. Even if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to reach you. You left. You disappeared completely and broke my heart.”

There was a beat of silence. You took the opportunity to down the last of your wine, the beginnings of a light buzz coursing through your veins. Don't get angry, you told yourself. You didn’t feel much of anything anymore, but anger was never too far out of reach. Sitting with that emotion and festering in it was easy if you let yourself. Bennett deserved your anger just as much as the rest of them, but you needed answers more than you needed to feel anything.

“There’s a lot to explain,” he finally said. “I’m not sure if you even want to see me again, but I can drive up to Austin this weekend and tell you everything. Or at least everything from my side.”

Seeing Bennett again would unfurl so many unchecked emotions: heartbreak, betrayal, grief. But it would be something you needed. Joel wasn’t the one you were with those two years following the accident; he wasn’t the one you had walked down the aisle expecting to see. Bennett had been with you through it all. You wanted to hear it from his mouth. You wanted an apology and an explanation.

“Okay,” you exhaled. “We can do that. Will Natalie have an issue with it?”

“Natalie won’t know.”

“You’re going to lie to your wife?” You laughed bitterly at his admission. He was still the same person through and through.

“She’s fine,” he huffed through the phone. “She doesn’t understand any of this anyway.”

“Whatever you say, Bennett. We can meet at a coffee shop this weekend. Don’t abandon me again. I deserve an explanation.”

“I won’t.”

The guilt in his voice was thick, and you relished knowing he was suffering. Everyone, not just you, deserved to suffer for what they did.

You quickly ended the call with Bennett and returned to the silence surrounding you. Knowing you’d see him in just a few days was unsettling and uncomfortable. The lingering grief he had left still hollowed out your heart. No amount of apologies would fill it, but it could sew up the remaining holes.

What couldn’t be filled was the gaping hole Joel had left within your heart. Secrets wrapped in scar tissue and carnage that could never be fully healed, and it still infuriated you that your love for him still festered inside. It buried itself deep under the confines of your numbness, but sometimes, when you lay awake at night, you could still feel it. You ached for him in growing unbearable ways, but you had to continue with your life.

You hadn't prepared yourself to see Bennett the first go around, and you had since thrown out the shirt still stained with his blood. Now, you were standing amid a pile of clothes strewn around your feet, your hair still wet and wrapped in a towel, and a face that screamed insomnia. You looked beyond amends.

After another hour of procrastination and a ticking timeline, you threw on the most basic T-shirt and jeans and left your hair a wet mess.

It was only Bennett.

It wasn’t serious.

Nothing was these days.

You pulled into a spot in front of a cafe a little ways into town, your car sitting idle as you stared at the storefront. You could faintly make out Bennett’s silhouette sitting in the window, yet your body wouldn’t move. You were feet from all the answers, but the anxiety bubbling inside you made you immobile. Did you actually want this? Was it better to be blissfully unaware?

Would the answers hurt you more than help you?

Before the constant questions led you to flee, you opened your door and decided to face the truth. Walking into the cafe, your eyes connected with Bennett, and your heart sank. Even from a distance, the scarring on his face was horrible: a thick, red, jagged line stretching down his temple and ending at his cheekbone. Another raised scar creased his left eyebrow, dragging down the arch over his eye.

Joel did this.

Inhaling, you met him at the table, sliding into the chair without a word. Bennett’s lips curled into a smug smile, one you still hated, and his eyes glazed over your body.

“You look like shit,” he stated.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

He shrugged, leaning back comfortably in his chair. Your eyes flicked down to the ring on his finger, the gold shimmering through the sunlight hitting the windows.

“She really has no idea you’re here?” You questioned, nodding your head towards his hand.

Bennett glanced down at his wedding band, his fingers twisting around the metal mindlessly.

“No, she doesn’t. She thinks I’m out of town on business.”

“And where’s home for you now?” You asked. “I never really found out since you up and left without a trace.” You tried to swallow the bitterness coating over your words.

“I live in Houston now. I found a firm seeking out a junior partner and settled down in the city,” he explained. “Trust me, I didn’t want to leave my life here, but it was the only option.”

You studied him momentarily, watching any signs in his body language that would frame him as a liar. But you found nothing to fault.

“What do you mean it was the only option?”

Bennett leaned forward, intertwining his hands together.

“What exactly did Joel fill you in on?” Bennett asked, cocking an eyebrow.

You shifted in your seat. Bennett’s words hit a nerve inside you, one that was buried deep within the numbness and itching to revive itself on a spark of anger. Was there more Joel had kept from you? How much more heartbreak could you take before you completely withered away?

“He said you and I broke up after we moved to Austin,” you started. “That’s when I met him, and we started dating. I don’t know specifics or much more, but Joel said that when I woke up in the hospital, I asked for you, and that’s when my parents decided to reach out to you and cover up my memory.”

“He left out… a lot,” he emphasized.

“Oh.”

“So, where do you want me to start then?”

You chewed on your lip, glancing outside as the cars drove down the main road. If you had told yourself two years ago you’d be sitting in front of your ex-fiance learning about a life you never knew existed… you’d laugh. You’d laugh and tell yourself you’d gone crazy.

“From the beginning,” you sighed.

Bennett leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. His eye twitched, the tight scar scrunching the skin around it. You averted your eyes, dropping your gaze to your hands as they fidgeted in your lap.

“Obviously, you remember us moving to Austin,” he started. “It was probably a month or two after that when we started arguing a lot. You were always mad at me for working too much. You complained all the time that I wasn’t present or whatever.” You deadpanned him when he said those words; it was the same as the arguments you remembered during the engagement. Bennett shrugged off your glare and continued. “Anyway, you finally got fed up with everything and called it quits. You moved in with your teacher friend, whatever her name is… I don’t remember.”

“Maria,” you grumbled. “Her name is Maria.”

“Right, yeah.” Bennett quirked a grin as if he knew the buttons he was pushing. “So, you moved in with Maria and must’ve met Joel shortly after that. We didn’t keep in touch during those two years, but I missed you—a lot.”

Now, it was your turn to hit him with a rueful grin. He was so full of shit, just like you remembered.

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” you scoffed.

“Believe whatever you want, but I did miss you. Even with all our fights, I loved you,” he admitted. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so after a while, I decided to reach out. I asked if we could go to dinner and talk, you know, work things out. I didn’t expect you to agree to it, but you did. And you know what happened? You laughed. You laughed at everything I said. You told me you were finally happy and in love and that you’d never consider the chance of getting back together. You sure do know how to hurt a man's pride.”

“You probably deserved it,” you said, shrinking back into your chair.

“Yeah, probably,” Bennett exhaled. “Doesn’t matter now, though. Anyway, after dinner, you left, and that’s when the accident happened. I had no idea until your parents called me to the hospital and explained it all to me. Looking back now, I can see how incredibly fucked up it all was, but I wanted a second chance. Joel wasn’t happy with the plan at all. As a matter of fact, he punched the shit out of me right when I walked into the room.”

“What?” You balked.

Bennett laughed dismissively, running a hand over his jaw. You tracked his moments, imagining what Joel must have looked like when he saw Bennett that night. An unwelcomed pang of guilt swarmed inside your chest, not for Bennett, but for Joel. You still hated him, but you couldn’t image the pain he had felt knowing he was losing you. The guilt subsided as you reminded yourself he had a choice to step in, but he allowed it all to happen anyway. He was an accomplice to your parent’s plans. He didn’t fight for you, and that realization stung.

“You alright?” he asked, tilting his head to study you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you faltered. “Just—just keep going.”

“Okay,” he cautioned. “I agreed to go along with your parent's plan. I knew it was fucked up, and I knew it would bite everyone in the ass one day, but I did it because I loved you. I wanted a do-over with you, and it felt like the perfect opportunity.”

You nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. If this conversation had happened weeks ago, you would have reacted differently, but there was no anger left to exhaust. You couldn’t be angry at Bennett, at least not for this. You were still allowed to resent him for what he did during the engagement and for leaving you at the altar, but this? This wasn’t something he did; he went along with everything because he loved you…supposedly. That was still arguable.

“So, you got your perfect opportunity and decided to fuck it up.”

Bennett inhaled sharply, drawing his lips into a thin line. There he was, the asshole you remembered. He didn’t like when you called him on his shit, and that’s exactly what you were doing.

“I tried to make it work,” he argued. “I mean, I tried the best I could. I didn’t want to lose you again. So, yeah, I might’ve tried to prevent the chances of you getting your memories back, but it was because I loved you. Then I just got sick of trying. I got sick of you always asking questions and me having to lie. It was exhausting. And then you started saying Joel’s name in your sleep, and I just—.”

“Wait,” you interjected, holding up your hand. “I—I said his name in my sleep?”

Bennett laughed, running a hand over his face. There was a shift in his demeanor, a mixture of anger and sadness.

“Why do you think I slept on the couch most nights? I couldn’t fucking stand it,” he grumbled.

“Bennett, I didn’t fucking know I was doing that!” You shouted. A few people turned their heads at the rise in your voice, but you didn’t care. The anger was awakening inside you again, pounding to get out of the cage you had locked it in.

“Yeah, I know,” Bennett said, rolling his eyes. “I still hated it. I hated knowing that even when you slept, you still loved him. I was never going to be the person to make you happy.”

Tears stung your waterline, and you swiped them away before they could fall.

“That’s why you left.” It wasn’t a question. It was a realization.

“I called Joel the night before the wedding,” he confessed, cringing at the admission. “I told him how I felt, and he told me to leave. Well, he didn’t tell me… It was more like he threatened me. He told me that if I didn’t, he’d find me. We both agreed to stay out of your life, and I think you can piece together the rest.”

You sat before him, speechless. You knew it all along; you were the reason Bennett was unhappy. Instinctively, you always knew it. But hearing it aloud? That was a pain you weren’t ready for. Everything was your fault, from beginning to end. Bennett couldn’t love you, Joel couldn’t fight for you.

Why were you so unloveable?

None of this was your fault, yet everything pointed directly back at you.

You had nothing left to say to Bennett, so you shoved away from the table and fumbled for your purse. He said your name cautiously, grabbing your wrist before you could turn away. You tried to free yourself from his hold, but he squeezed tighter.

“Stop!” You snapped.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Bennett pleaded. “I really am, whether you believe it or not. I fucked up a lot, and I regret the way I left. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“This apology would have meant a lot more two years ago, Bennett,” you cried, still trying to free yourself.

“I know it would have, but I’m doing it now. Alright? I’m sorry for everything I put you through, and I know none of this has been easy for you—.”

“You don’t know shit,” you seethed.

You finally wrangled yourself out of his grip, rubbing your wrist to alleviate the pain from his touch. Bennett stared at you, agonized. You had walked in here hoping for an apology and got it. But it wasn’t enough. What was the point in all of this if nothing healed the pain inside you?

You stumbled out of the cafe with blurry eyes, the cage bars inside you breaking piece by piece. It was only minutes before the anger fully consumed you, and you needed to leave before you let it wreak havoc on everything around you. You needed silence. You needed solitude. You needed a hole to crawl into.

Before you could open your car door, Bennett called out your name and tore you away from the swirling thoughts inside your mind. You tried to ignore him, but he was relentless. Whipping around to face him, you came face first with his chest as he pulled you into an embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tightening his arms around your ridged body. “Hate me all you want, but don’t hate Joel. I can have my own grievances with him, but he loves you more than I ever could.”

You slumped into his chest, letting the anger overwhelm you to the point of complete defeat. Crying in Bennett’s arms was the last place you ever expected to be in, but here you were, sobbing into your ex-fiance’s chest. He held you through each wave of emotions, remaining solid and silent.

“Hey,” Bennett whispered, pulling away. “Obviously, I don’t know shit about what’s going on with you, but it’s going to be okay. It’ll take time, but you’re going to be alright. I hope you get those memories back one day. I really do. You deserve to remember the things you lost, and I’m sorry for ever getting in the way of that.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, wiping away the tears streaming down your face.

Bennett gave you a soft smile and said his goodbyes. You watched him as he retreated to his car, waiting for him to drive away. As you turned toward your car again, you glanced up at the hardware store across the street, meeting the eyes of someone familiar. Someone you didn’t expect to see.

Joel’s brother, Tommy.

The resentful glare in his eye was deadly, and you couldn’t hide from it. He saw you with Bennett. He would tell Joel, even without knowing what had just transpired. For a brief moment, you wanted to rush over and explain everything to him, but you stopped yourself. It didn’t matter what he told Joel—at least, that’s what you told yourself. You could only shy away from Tommy’s scrutinizing stare and duck into your car.

You had been gone too long from your numbness, and you missed it. It was time to bury yourself in your sadness once again and continue trying to unlove Joel Miller.

Joel dumped his tools on the dining table with an exasperated sigh. He immediately reached for the fridge, grabbing a beer and popping it open in one fluid motion. As he leaned against the counter with the bottle at his lips, Joel heard the garage door slam shut. Peering around the corner, he tracked Tommy’s movements as he walked into the kitchen.

“What crawled up your ass?” Joel grumbled.

Tommy shrugged off his button-up and tossed it over a dining chair. He ran a hand through his greasy black curls before glancing at Joel. Joel shifted uncomfortably, trying to make sense of Tommy’s demeanor.

“Seriously, Tommy,” Joel huffed. “Spit it the fuck out.”

“I saw her downtown,” Tommy finally said. “She was with that ex-fiance. The one you almost killed.”

Joel swore he felt his heart stop beating. Tommy must have seen wrong; it wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been you. You wouldn’t seek out Bennett, not after everything. You weren’t even seeking Joel out, even after two weeks of earth-shattering silence.

“Are y’sure it was her?” Joel asked through clenched teeth.

Tommy nodded, his eyes drawn to the floor.

“Yeah, it was her. Not sure what was goin’ on between them, but I saw them huggin’ and all that outside of a lil’ cafe,” Tommy explained.

“Probably doesn’t mean nothin’,” Joel shrugged, trying to let denial take over.

If he could deny it, then none of this was real. You weren’t with Bennett again—that wouldn’t happen. You wouldn’t do that. Bennett wouldn’t do that. Maybe Joel should have killed him. It would have torn you apart, but at least Joel could sleep at night knowing Bennett would never be in your life again.

“Joel,” Tommy said, pulling him from his vengeful thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter!” Joel yelled, slamming his beer bottle onto the counter.

The glass rattled between his fingers, and a slow trickle of liquid began seeping out of the crack he created. Joel glanced down at it, unbothered.

“She’s not comin’ back, man,” Tommy sighed. “Y’gotta start movin’ on.”

“Go fuck yourself, Tommy,” Joel snapped.

He shoved off the counter and began to retreat down the hall, but not quick enough for Tommy. Tommy sidestepped in front of him, arms folded and a scowl twisting his lips. Joel knew Tommy hated everything about this situation, but he wasn’t the one experiencing the pain. He was just a bystander in all of this; he didn’t lay awake every night tossing over your words inside his head.

I will never forgive you for this.

Joel wasn’t losing you. He already lost you.

“Listen, Joel. I know this is hard on you, but y’gotta face the truth. She’s gone, man. I know you tried your best to get her back, but it’s just not gonna happen. She deserves to make her own decisions for her life.”

“I know,” Joel sighed. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love her, still.”

Tommy’s brown eyes softened as he looked at Joel, his head dipping in agreement.

“No one said y’had to stop lovin’ her,” Tommy offered.

“I don’t think I ever will,” Joel said.

Joel didn’t sleep much that night. Tossing between the sheets, Joel couldn’t steer away the thoughts of you in another man's arms—let alone Bennett’s. When Joel had seen you at parent-teacher conferences, he wanted to fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness. He knew you had taken the news rough, but seeing you so physically distraught was another type of pain he hadn’t been prepared for. You were a hollow shell of the woman he loved; your voice held so much bitterness when you spoke to him. Your eyes didn’t look at him with love…it was his own personal Hell. Parting ways with you like that nearly killed him, but not knowing what was going on in your life killed him more. Joel had spent two years in limbo after your accident, always wondering what life would be like if he had you back. And then he had it. He had three beautiful months with you, albeit they were spent wearing rose-colored glasses, but he had you again.

In the blink of an eye, in one messy series of events, he lost you.

He lost you, and he knew you’d never come back.

~Six months later~

You thought time would heal the wounds left inside your chest, but you were wrong. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and nothing felt better. You stopped talking to your family altogether, and the phone calls stopped coming after some time. Beth never tried to reconcile with you, nor did you try to fight for answers. Having your heart broken by Joel and Bennett was one thing, but having it broken by your sister was a different kind of pain. It was visceral. It was a betrayal so brutal you still had yet to recover. Thinking of the things she had said to you in Boston only left you with debilitating headaches; her words festered deeper than anyone else’s.

The truth is that you are a fucking idiot. And on top of that, you’re a coward.

You weren’t the coward; Beth was. She chose to hold onto those secrets for the last few years and weaponize them against you. You weren’t the idiot; you were the victim. You were the victim in all of this, yet everyone wanted to pin the aftermath on you.

You were a mad woman, haunting an empty house with no one to confide in. You cut off all friendships with other teachers, especially Maria. You became a hands-off teacher, only going as far as in-class readings, quizzes, and occasional tests when necessary. The students adapted to the shift in your mood, and while you lived with the guilt of becoming that teacher, it was the only way you could survive the work days. The less effort you put into things, the less risk you had for disappointment or frustration.

Sarah avoided you at all costs during class. She no longer participated in class discussions—which were far and few—but kept her head low and her grades satisfactory. Sometimes, you’d catch her watching you during class, her hazel eyes swimming with concern. You couldn’t stomach looking at her for more than a few seconds. You weren’t sure if she ever reported back to Joel about you, and honestly, you didn’t care. Well, maybe sometimes you did. It didn’t happen often, but there were fleeting moments of unwelcome flashbacks to your time with Joel months ago. Flashes of his hands on your body, his crooked smile, his deep voice. They wove through your mind at the worst moments, and everything hurt again.

The school year had finally ended, and your days were filled with endless bouts of nothing. You exhausted everything: plucking weeds in your front yard, rearranging your kitchen cabinets (for the seventh time), building a new bookshelf…You found anything you could to keep yourself busy and the wandering thoughts at bay.

The Texas heat was becoming unbearable, so you opted to spend the weekend indoors, siphoning through your closet. Heaps of clothes cluttered the ground around you as you tore apart each shelf, miscellaneous keepsakes piled in the corner. It wasn’t until you were elbow-deep in the crevices of your closet that you found the book.

Romeo and Juliet.

The flimsy spine and dog-eared pages taunted you. You sat motionless with your hands hovering over the book, torn between flipping through the pages and setting it on fire. Minutes passed, though they felt like hours, and you remained paralyzed, stuck in limbo between the past and present. You’d tell yourself it was a moment of weakness, but you grabbed the book and let your hands move through the pages.

“Under love’s heavy burden do I sink.

And, to sink in it, should you burden love;

Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,

Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

If love be rough with you, be rough

with love;

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.”

The words hit you harder than you expect. Staring at the margins of the pages, scribbled with your words and thoughts, you blinked back tears. You thought you were strong enough for this. Tossing the book halfway across the bathroom, you succumbed to the tears that pooled in your eyes. Laying on the messy floor, you wrapped your arms around your shins and stared at the book as it taunted you from across the room. Your eyes caught onto something peeking out of the pages, and you slowly tilted your head.

That wasn’t…

No.

You couldn’t pull yourself to your feet, so you decided to crawl to where the book lay. As you got closer, you started to make out the grainy features of Joel plastered onto a Polaroid. With shaking fingers, you lifted it into the light, your eyes growing wide. Basked in the hue of sunset sat Joel, his broad torso dressed in a white shirt, with the biggest smile plastered on his face captured in a moment of laughter. Something sparked inside your chest as you stared at it longer, your eyes memorizing every softened feature of Joel’s face. He still had that patchy beard you were so familiar with, the sparse spots along his jaw no different than they were now. Creases around his closed eyes proved that his laughter in the photo had been genuine.

You missed his smile.

Shaking away those tender thoughts, you tried to pull yourself to your feet, only to have your ankle caught in a strap of a dress, sending you crashing to the floor. Your arms tried to brace for impact, but you didn’t catch yourself in time. Your body smacked against the corner of your shower door, your head taking most of the impact.

And everything went dark.

“Sarah, you’re a mess!” You laughed.

Her curls were caked with mud, and half her clothes were soaked. You, Joel, and Sarah had decided to drive into the small town outside the campground for dinner, and of course, you got caught in the rain. As you all made a beeline for the diner, Sarah tripped into a huge puddle between cars, splattering rainwater and mud all over herself. Joel couldn’t contain his laughter, and neither could you.

Joel took a seat on the beach outside the diner, trying to catch his breath from laughing, but every time he glanced up at Sarah’s messy face, he lost it all over again. You scrambled through your backpack to find your Polaroid camera, snapping a quick picture.

“Hey!” Joel laughed, grabbing you by the waist and dragging you down to the bench.

“What?” You asked innocently. “It was the perfect opportunity! Plus, you look extra handsome right now.”

“Handsome, huh?” He smirked, peeking you on the cheek.

You shook the Polaroid as it developed, presenting him with the proof. He was handsome. So fucking handsome. Joel reached for the camera in your hands, turning it quickly on you. You stuck out your tongue, trying to hold back another fit of laughter.

“Perfect,” he grinned before turning toward Sarah.

“Alright, kiddo. Smile!”

“Dad, stop!” Sarah wined.

But Joel was too fast, the camera shutter going off right in time to capture Sarah’s big pout.

Each of you had a Polaroid now, picture proof of a happy family.

Pinpricks of pain stabbed into each side of your head as you finally roused from your sleep. You squinted through the harsh light of the bathroom, letting your eyes readjust to your surroundings. Everything was foggy, but you remembered.

Oh God, you remembered everything.

The nausea was quick to hit you, and you scrambled to the toilet. You weren’t sure if the fall was to blame for the sudden disruption to your body or the memories slamming back into place, but you were helplessly stuck with your head over the toilet. Flash after flash, like the shutter of your camera, everything fell back into place.

“Oof! I’m so sorry!” You said, rubbing your nose.

You had turned the corner too quickly and smashed right into the solid chest of a student’s father.

“S’all my fault, miss.”

The voice alone sent shivers up your spine, but they multiplied as you gazed up into a pair of deep brown eyes. You lost all the words in your vocabulary as you took in the sight of the most handsome man you’d ever seen. He was too rugged and masculine to call ‘cute’; handsome fit him so much better. With dark scruff covering his jaw and creases around his eyes, whoever this man was…he was stunning. You were captivated.

“I really should have looked before I turned the corner,” you rambled.

“Don’t go apologizin’,” he said, offering you a kind smile. “I coulda got outta the way.”

“Do you make a habit of taking up an obscene amount of space?” You joked.

“Depends on the hall,” he countered, extending his hand. “Joel Miller.”

You told him your name, then shook your head.

“I should probably keep it professional. You can call me Miss Smith.”

“Nah, don’t need all the formalities here. Your name is just fine.”

“Is your daughter enrolled here?” You asked. It was hard to maintain the color creeping into your cheeks.

“That she is,” he said proudly. “Goin’ into third grade this year. She’s a real good kid.”

“I bet she is. I’m only student teaching while I finish my Master’s program, but I’ll be taking on a position with middle school students next year. Maybe she’ll be my student one day.”

“I reckon she’d be pretty lucky,” he offered.

“Yeah?” Now, you were definitely blushing.

“Yeah,” Joel smiled. “Somethin’ ‘bout you makes me think you’ll be one of the best teachers in the school.”

“That’s a bold statement, given the fact you hardly just met me.”

“I wouldn’t hate it if I got to know you more.”

Your eyes shifted down the hallway, watching for any teachers that might be coming. You weren’t sure what the policy was for flirting with a student’s parent, but it was hard to stop when he was so enticing.

“I don’t think I’d hate it, either.”

Another wave of nausea hit you, and you groaned. The room was spinning, your body ached from falling, and countless memories continued to pile up inside your mind.

You were overwhelmed.

Those two years of nothing became everything in the span of minutes.

Dragon Tales was playing softly in the background as you curled your body around Joel’s. His hand was tracing circles around your shoulder as you both “watched” the TV. Something electric pulsed between your bodies, an unavoidable shift that had continued to unfurl over the last several months. You didn’t know how to verbalize your emotions—at least, not without knowing if he felt the same.

“Joel,” you whispered.

His eyes were already on you when you finally glanced up. It was written all over his face. It was the proof you needed; he felt the same.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I really like you,” you confessed. “Okay, well, maybe I really, really like you.”

“Maybe I really, really like you, too.”

You peeled yourself from his warm body, turning to face him completely.

“I’m gonna say something,” you warned. “Please don’t freak out. It’s okay if you don't—.”

Joel’s lips were pressed against yours before you could finish the sentence. You melted into his touch, your hands coming up to tangle in the messy curls at the nape of his neck. He held you firm to his mouth, his tongue dragging over your bottom lip.

“I love you, baby,” he mumbled. “So much.”

You reeled him in for another frenzied kiss, all your efforts to contain your smile going down the drain. Oh, God. He loved you.

“I love you, Joel.”

You sagged onto the bathroom floor. The throbbing in your head was growing stronger and stronger with each memory. You wanted to tear your brain from your skull and flush it down the toilet, but that wouldn’t help anything. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? All your memories were coming back, and yet, you desperately wished they would fade away again.

You loved Joel.

It was a fact you already knew, but remembering the exact moment you admitted…. You were going to be sick all over again.

“Y’look so pretty in my t-shirt, baby,” Joel hummed.

He lay up against the headboard of the bed while you paced the room. You gripped the binding of your copy of Romeo and Juliet, your mind racing a thousand miles a minute. It was hard to focus when his bare chest was on display, the spattering of dark chest hair swirling down his torso and disappearing under the waistband of his boxers.

Focus.

“Don’t distract me!” You pleaded. “Okay, you know how I was talking about how Romeo is just head over heels for Juliet? Get this: they kiss right away in the first act! He’s so bold with how he speaks to her, and then he just kisses her. And Juliet’s response is basically telling Romeo that all of his sin is on her lips now.”

“And what happens next, baby?” Joel asked, quirking a smile.

“Romeo says, ‘Give me my sin again’, and then they kiss… again!”

“Ain’t he just a romantic,” Joel chuckled. “Now, can y’get your sinful ass in bed?”

“What? This one?” You teased, flipping up the hem of his shirt.

Joel’s eyes dropped to your backside as you exposed your naked body, and he nearly went flying across the foot of the bed to grab you. You shrieked with laughter as he tugged you onto the comforter, flipping you onto your back.

“C’mere, baby,” he growled.

His lips trailed down your neck, sucking marks into the skin just below your collarbone. You let out a small whimper and helped guide the t-shirt off your body. Somewhere along the way, your book had dropped to the ground, but you didn’t care. You’d much rather give into the sin of Joel’s lips on your body.

It felt like an eternity had passed when your stomach finally settled. You managed to drag yourself from the floor, staggering your way into the bedroom. The migraine behind your eyes had still yet to subside, so you threw yourself into bed and buried your body under the comforter and pillows. You had everything back—everything you wanted—but why wasn’t it enough?

The images of Joel swam through the pressurized ache inside your mind; his smile refracted in the blinding light of a constant camera shutter. Snapshots of the past dissolved from the darkness, fragmented puzzle pieces slowly molding into place.

Another flash, another memory.

A frustrated scream erupted from your mouth, muffled into the pillows surrounding you. Every thought started and ended with Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel. Was this how it felt to go crazy?

It was clear that sleep was evading you; it ran from the thought of Joel quicker than you could. Pulling yourself from the bed, you emerged into the bathroom once again and began rifling through the piles of clothes.

What the hell were you supposed to wear to see someone who was no longer a stranger?

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel x f!reader #joel x teacher!f!reader #joel miller #tlou #pre outbreak!joel #joel miller pre outbreak #joel miller fic #tlou fic #angst angst angst

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incorrectfabfifteen · 4 months

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Hello, welcome to Incorrect Fab Fifteen, a blog about all things Silver Age Teen Titans! I've come up with the term Fab Fifteen to broadly refer to all of the members (which I'll explain below) as well as a natural expansion of the Fab Five (plus, it's better than just calling them the OG Teen Titans or the 70s Team).

For DC newcomers, don't be afraid of some of the comic terminology present, they'll make sense with more exposure.

Introducing: The Fab Fifteen!

Dick Grayson

Full name: Richard John "Dick" Grayson

Alter Ego: Robin I, Nightwing, Batman III, Red X

Birthday: March 20th

Love interests: Bette Kane (Pre-Crisis), Princess Koriand'r, Barbara Gordon, Helena Bertinelli (DCYou), Bea Bennett [There's probably more, feel free to send an ask so I can fix this]

Reading recs: The Judas Contract, The Cheshire Contract [collected as Nightwing: Old Friends, New Enemies], Nightwing Vol 1 by Chuck Dixon, Batman & Robin, The Black Mirror, New 52 Nightwing by Kyle Higgens

Wally West

Full name: Wallace Rudolph "Wally" West

Alter Ego: Kid Flash I, The Flash III

Birthday: January 16

Love interests: Donna Troy (Pre-NTT), Rachel Roth (🤨?), Frances Kane, Linda Park, Jesse Chambers

Reading recs: Born To Run, Savage Velocity, The Flash by William Messner-Loebs and Greg LaRoque, The Flash by Mark Waid, Flash Forward, The Flash by Jeremy Adams (especially The Return of Wally West and One-Minute War)

Donna Troy

Full name: Donna Hinckley Stacy Troy

Alter ego: Wonder Girl, Troia (Who Is Wonder Girl? until Total Chaos; JLA/Titans until Infinite Crisis; No Justice onwards), Darkstar (Zero Hour until Meltdown), Wonder Woman IV (Who Is Wonder Woman?)

Birthday: April 26

Love interests (oh boy): Dick Grayson (FORMERLY), Wally West (only during the Silver Age + some weird thing during DC Rebirth), Garth (Titans 2018 + Titans United), Roy Harper, Kyle Rayner

Reading recs: Who Is Wonder Girl? [Collected in The New Teen Titans Who is Donna Troy?], Wonder Woman By John Byrne Vol. 3, The Return of Donna Troy, Wonder Woman: Who is Wonder Woman?, Titans: The Spark and Into The Bleed

Garth

Full name: Prince Garth of Shayeris

Alter ego: Aqualad (also legal name until Crisis), Tempest

Birthday: March 6

Love interests: Donna Troy, Tula Marinus, Dolphin, Lilith Clay (temporary)

Reading recs: World's Finest: Teen Titans, Death of a Prince, Tempest by Phil Jimenez, Aquaman by Peter David, JLA: The Obsidian Age, Aquaman: Underworld

Roy Harper

Full name: Roy William Harper Jr.

Alter ego: Speedy, Arsenal, Red Arrow

Birthday: November 1

Love interests: Donna Troy, Jade Nguyen, Kendra Saunders

Reading recs: Snowbirds Don't Fly, The Cheshire Contract [Collected as Nightwing: Old Friends, New Enemies], Arsenal by Devin Grayson, Outsiders 2003, Justice League of America 2007, Infinite Frontier, Green Arrow 2023

Lilith Clay

Full name: Lilith Jupiter-Clay

Alter ego: Omen

Birthday: Not stated but her debut was November 18

Love interests: Gnarrk, Donald Hall, Garth, Bette Kane

Reading recs: The Terror of Trigon, Teen Titans by Dan Jurgens, Teen Titans: Life and Death, Titans Hunt (2015), Titans Rebirth

Mal Duncan

Full name: Malcolm Arnold "Mal" Duncan

Alter ego: Guardian (Pre-Crisis), Hornblower, Herald (Post-Crisis), Vox (Infinite Crisis until Flashpoint)

Birthday: Not stated

Love interests: Karen Beecher

Reading recs: Silver Age Teen Titans, Titans Hunt, Titans Rebirth, The Other History of the DC Universe #2

Fun fact: Mal Duncan was featured in the first interracial kiss in comics history with a goodbye kiss between him and Lilith!

Karen Beecher

Full name: Karen Beecher-Duncan

Alter ego: Bumblebee

Birthday: Not stated

Love interests: Mal Duncan

Reading recs: Silver Age Teen Titans, Titans Hunt, Titans Rebirth, The Other History of the DC Universe #2, Doom Patrol by Keith Giffen

Don Hall

Full name: Donald Hall

Alter ego: Dove

Birthday: Not stated

Love interests: Lilith Clay

Reading recs: The Hawk & The Dove, Silver Age Teen Titans, Crisis on Infinite Earths

Hank Hall

Full name: Henry "Hank" Hall

Alter ego: Hawk, Monarch (Armageddon 2001), Extant (Zero Hour until JSA)

Birthday: Not stated

Love interests: Dawn Granger, Ren Takamori

Reading recs: The Hawk and The Dove, Hawk and Dove: Ghosts & Demons, Hawk and Dove (1989), Birds of Prey (2010)

Dawn Granger

Full name: Dawn Marie Granger

Alter ego: Dove

Birthday: Not stated

Love interests: Hank Hall, Sal Arsala

Reading recs: Hawk and Dove: Ghosts & Demons, Hawk and Dove (1989), Birds of Prey (2010)

Duela Dent

Full name: Duela Dent

Alter ego: Joker's/Riddler's/Penguin's Daughter, Card Queen, Harlequin

Birthday: Not stated

Love interests: Earth-1 Dick Grayson, Earth-3 Dick Grayson

Reading recs: Silver Age Teen Titans, Teen Titans: Titans East

Bette Kane

Full name: Mary Elizabeth "Bette" Kane

Alter ego: Batgirl (Pre-Crisis), Flamebird (Post-Crisis, current mantle), Hawkfire (N52 Batwoman only)

Birthday: Not stated

Love interests: Dick Grayson (Pre-Crisis)

Reading recs: Teen Titans Vol 1 #50-53, Hawk and Dove Vol 3 Annual 1, Beast Boy (2000), DC's Legion of Bloom

Charley Parker

Full name: Charles Edmund "Charley" Parker (human name); Ch'al Andar (Thanagarian name)

Alter ego: Golden Eagle, Hawkman IV (Rise of the Golden Eagle)

Birthday: Not stated

Love interests: Kendra Saunders (I think?)

Reading recs: Hawkman: Rise of the Golden Eagle,

Tula

Full name: Tula Marinus

Alter ego: Aquagirl

Birthday: Not stated

Love interests: Garth

Reading recs: Tempest by Phil Jimenez, New 52 Aquaman, Mera: Queen of Atlantus, Aquaman by Kelly Sue DeConnick, Aquamen

So a special note: despite Beast Boy being a part of the Titans West (as well as appearing in the above photograph), they do not count as part of the Fab Fifteen, mainly because he's already part of the New Teen Titans. Also note that this acc won't be using the New 52 version of Duela Dent (although the Gotham Knights version is fine so feel free to send in any hcs about her)

Also you maybe be asking why Gnarrk's entry is below instead of with everybody else. That's because Gnarrk was never a Titan in the first place. Sure, he appeared as part of the title and was there when the Titans West was formed but he never actually joined the team at all. Gnarrk becoming a Titan became a thing when he was introduced following the New 52.

Gnarrk

Full name: Unknown

Alter ego: Caveboy

Birthday: Not stated

Love interests: Lilith Clay

Reading recs: Titans Hunt (2015), Titans Rebirth

Uhh, yeah, so that's the Fab Fifteen! Again, don't worry about this technical jargon if you're a newcomer and you just wanna look at the other posts, we're all here to have fun.

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aphroditeinthesea · 6 months

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this was a request from @annaizcool44 but i accidentally deleted it when i tried to post it

“ safe in my garden, an ancient flower blooms ”

jason grace x daughter of demeter ⚡️

reader expresses her feelings to the son of zeus through a shared love of books

tw none

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨💐୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

“Whatcha reading?” Y/N jumped at the sound of the voice behind her. She was sitting on the porch of the Demeter cabin when she noticed the blond approaching her.

She looked up and smiled, “Little Women,” she scooted over for him to sit next to her, “ever read it?”

He shook his head, sitting beside her. He leaned over her shoulder at the page she was on, “what’s it about?”

She felt her ears warm at the closeness, “these four sisters during the Civil War, and their dad’s fighting in the army so they're trying to adjust to their life now… I guess.”

“Can I borrow it sometime?”

Jason heard a knock at his door in the early morning. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he stood up, walking to open it. He found on his doorstep a copy of Little Women with a sticky note on top that read “For Jason, with love Y/N” and he couldn't help but notice the fresh flowers that had sprouted around his cabin.

He smiled and looked around. He saw the girl peering from behind a nearby tree. She turned away, giggling, when he looked her way.

His heart warmed. He stepped back into his cabin and flipped through the pages, he found little notes in the margins and underlined quotes.

For the rest of the day, the book never left his hands. During breakfast, during training, his eyes were glued to the pages.

Just before the campfire, Y/N peeked into his cabin, “Jason?”

She noticed him wipe his eyes, “oh, uh, hey.”

She smiled and walked over to his bed, “Beth?”

He nodded, “yeah. Why would the author write that?”

She bit her lip, “Jase, it’s a true story.”

His eyes widened, “no.”

“Yes.”

Tears began pricked out of his eyes, “that makes it so much worse.”

She sympathetically laughed, wrapping her arms around him. He nuzzled his head into her neck. She couldn't help but smile at how the usual tough guy was now crying in her arms over a book. A book she had gifted him.

He pulled away, “your little note made it better though,” he grinned. He opened the book to the last page he had read, “Jason, when you get here, come to my cabin, I know you’ll need to.”

She laughed, “I think I know you too well.”

He nodded, “I think so.”

“You wanna read Pride and Prejudice?” she asked, “one more sister, happier ending.”

He chuckled, “might as well.”

She showed up to his cabin just before curfew, “the Bennett sisters, Jane, Lizzie, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia, search for love in 1813 England,” she announced in a pretend professional voice.

“No scarlet fever?”

She shook her head, “no scarlet fever. Jane gets a cold, but it's nothing serious.”

He hesitantly grabbed the book from her hands, “thanks, Y/N.”

“No problem, Jason, it's nice getting to share these with you.”

“Yeah, it's nice for me, too,” he trailed off, looking away, “I should get to bed.”

“Right, yeah, of course,” she smiled, “goodnight.”

“‘Night,” he replied, closing the door.

“Oh, uh, one more thing.”

He slightly opened the door again, “hm?”

She took a deep breath and placed a kiss on his cheek, “see you in the morning.”

He stuttered, trying to suppress his blush, “yeah- yeah, see you,” he awkwardly smiled, closing the door again.

The next morning she watched him sit at the Zeus table, reading the book. Her heart raced as she knew he was getting closer to the last annotation she had written. She started to regret it, what if he thought the books just made them closer friends? Of course they were friends, she cursed herself for thinking he could see her differently. He glanced up at her, he flashed a smile and a nod her way. She turned pink, looking away.

“Y/N!” the all too familiar voice called to her as she sat by the dock, watching the sunset later that day.

She turned around, “Jason, hi,” she shyly smiled.

He took the spot next to her, handing the book back to her, “I finished the book.”

She nervously looked into his eyes, “and?”

“It was great!” he beamed, “everything about it.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, “even the ending?”

“That was the best part.”

“Jason,” she laughed, “did you even read the annotations?”

He squinted his eyes in confusion, “of course I did.”

She opened the book to the back cover. She folded it open and showed it to him. There was written in pink ink, “Will you be the Darcy to my Lizzie?”

“I know it’s cheesy,” she muttered, closing the book and turning away.

“Yes,” he paused, “wait, no. Yes to the question, not to it being cheesy. Well, it is cheesy but it’s cute. You're cute.”

She giggled, “thanks, so are you.”

He held her cheek in his hand, their gazes met before their lips crashed into one another. She placed her hands around his neck as he now held her face with both of his hands. When they pulled away, their foreheads leaned against one another and they could feel the other’s breath against their lips.

The next morning, Jason walked out his cabin to find a field of multicolored roses had encompassed him. He looked around just to find the girl responsible standing in the middle of the flowers, holding a book. He breathily laughed and made his way over to her.

“Here,” she smiled, handing him the book.

He took it, “Mansfield Park?”

“Jane Austen, she wrote Pride and Prejudice, too.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her into a kiss, “sounds perfect.”

#jason grace #jason grace x reader #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #jason grace x you #jason grace x daughter of demeter #demeter #daughter of demeter #child of demeter #cabin 4

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snootlestheangel · 9 months

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20 Ship Questions - Flash/Bennett

2. Are there any secrets they have told one another?

5. What's a moment they would want to relive with each other?

10. Quote a phrase their partner uses often.

14. Who gets in trouble with the other most?

18. How do they express their love?

2. Bennett definitely tells Cole a lot of secrets, whether it's from his childhood or like about his family. Flash rarely tells Bennett anything, as keeping a secret is just a habit drilled into him by the military.

5. That's a good one. Probably their first time together. It happened after Flash got back home from deployment, and for him, it was just the way Bennett missed him so much. For Bennett, it was the feeling of having Cole back in his arms. Just the sweetness and love that was shared their first time was honestly the moment they both knew they were meant for each other

10. "Ah nuggets" -Flash when he drops something

"Can't shit without taking your pants off" - a very crude saying Bennett picked up from being a blue collar worker but it basically means "can't find release/peace without making changes in your life"

14. Flash, actually. As spoiled a boyfriend as he is, he's pretty hard to live with. It's always, "Cole, why are the dishes only half done?" "Touch me with your cold hands one more time, I dare you" "I thought you said you would call and you didn't so of course I was worried!"

18. Bennett is a doer. But in a "I made/did this for you" sense. He likes to cook things for Flash, he'll fold all the laundry and whatnot all because Flash is on leave. If Flash has any issue with something, you but your ass Benny is fixing it for him. Sometimes this also means "Oh Cole is sore? A nice bath and a massage after will help"

Flash is more vocal in his love for Bennett, but for him it's quality time. Intentionally taking time away from his busy days on base to just call Bennett to say "i love you", sending a song he thinks Bennett will like, and when he's home, doing what he can to be by Bennett's side. Bennett doesn't want to go out with their friends anymore? What plans, we never had plans.

#Cod oc Bennett #Shadow oc flash #Shadow Company flash #Cole x Bennett #Flash x Bennett #Cole 'flash' halley #Ship prompts #Ship questions

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toxicgaysource · 1 month

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SALTBURN | EUPHORIA

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chronic-escapixt · 9 months

Text

His Rose ~ Part 4

(Kai Parker x Bennett OC fanfiction)

content warnings/tags ~ Dark fiction, murder, abuse, trauma, dubcon, CNC, smut, daddy kink, dom!kai, p in v, degradation, humiliation, rough sex, age gap, unhealthy!dom/sub dynamics, dacryphilia, fingering, biting, choking, innocence kink, hair pulling, edging, overstimulation, safe word, aftercare, manipulation. Minors DNI

I don't claim ownership of The Vampire Diaries or its characters. All credits go to the rightful owner(s). I only own my original character(s).

Word count: 1.7k

K.P. Masterlist

Their hips rolled together, breathy moans and vocal praises tickling her ear as her nails scraped down his back. Kai would work her over for hours with unyielding stamina until the ecstasy of their cumulative passions mellowed her into post-sex bliss and utter exhaustion. She’d snore softly after drifting off to the sound of his heartbeat while he’d stay up and watch her breathing slow and her body snuggle into his chest for warmth. Completely vulnerable, too easy to wrap his arm around her little neck and squeeze the life out of her but Kai resisted those intrusive thoughts only because for his plans, he needed her alive.

He had her trust by playing the “nice guy”. Sure, it was boringly cliché and there was only so much that vanilla sex would do to satisfy his darker urges but he’d be whatever she wanted if it got him out of this hell hole by the next eclipse.

Rose lost track of where she ended and Kai began, his possessive hands always on her body. Following her around like a lost puppy before pulling her close and resting his head on her shoulder, his unspoken way of telling her to hurry up so they could get back to spooning. If they were in the car, he drove with his left hand while his right slipped under the hem of her skirt, fingertips tapping rhythmically on her inner thigh until it drove her crazy. And he loved to grab her ass, enjoying the adorable squeals that escaped her when she was caught off guard.

All alone in the bathroom, she reclined back in the tub, steamy suds relaxing every aching muscle he gave her. She felt naked without him on her body, yet cherished the short periods of privacy she could carve out for herself.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Yes, Kai…” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t get too annoyed. He usually came knocking after 20 minutes but this time, at least half an hour passed before his impatience got the best of him.

“Rosyyy… are you almost done? You’ve been in there foreverrr…” he whined through the door.

“I’ll be out soon,” she sighed, sinking deeper into the water.

He groaned dramatically, hesitating before retreating to her room to wait. Plopping down on the bed, he immediately took notice of a dark leatherbound book peeking out from under her pillow. Did she have a secret grimoire, perhaps she was planning to cross him after all and wasn’t as clueless as she seemed? He flipped through the pages, but there weren’t any Latin incantations, just dates and little entries.

He read the first line that caught his eye:

The first time he fucked me, I knew he was holding back, so afraid he’d break me but I was too afraid to let him know I loved the pain.

“No fucking way...” This was too good to be true, just to be sure, he flipped to the end where he found her frilly signature. With confirmation, he eagerly read another passage.

I want him to ruin me. Split me on his cock until I cry and push him away then choke me and fuck into me harder, push my face down and suffocate my sobs in my pillow. I wanna be reminded exactly who I belong to.

Her confessions became more depraved with visceral descriptions of her needs, filthy fantasies contrasting with the adorable way she curled her letters and dotted her I’s with little hearts. He was so focused that he didn’t notice her come in.

“Hey, give me that!” He got up and blocked her attempts to reach her journal with one hand while he read on. “Kai, stop it. You’re invading my privacy!” She bleated. his eyes flashed to her with a stifled laugh.

“Relax, Rosy… you’re the one who left your diary open on the bed. I just came in here to wait for you and I almost sat on it. When I looked down, let’s just say some of the things you wrote were… enlightening.”

Shame broiled her face and tightened her throat but maybe she could lie her way out of this, “I-It’s not mine… I found it…” She squeaked. His brow raised, clearly not buying it. An exasperated sigh left her. "Just give it back, Kai… I need to get dressed because I have laundry to do and I have to start the marinade for the-"

He snapped the book shut, reached out and squished her hot cheeks in his hold, wrenching her face upwards to meet his burning gaze. “Look at me.” Instantly she obeyed, the sudden base in his voice sending a pulse directly to her needy cunt. “Guess what? I know all your little secrets, and you're not going anywhere until you tell me everything. Every kink, every need, I wanna hear it all from your pretty lips.”

In one motion, he released her, ripping the towel from her dripping body, her back hitting the mattress with little effort. His hand snaked up her thigh, fingers meeting her clit, drawing little moans as he rubbed out slow figure 8s.

“I-I didn’t-”

“Don’t deny it.” Two fingers slipped inside her while his eyes returned to the page, flipping through until he found what he was looking for. “... It says here, you want me to ruin you. What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t k-”

Kai grunted and bit down on her earlobe, hard enough to shock her and elicite a ragged whimper from the back of her throat. He released it and growled, “If you lie to me one more time, I’ll flip you over and make your pretty ass all red..” He loved the way that made her quiver, “But you’d like that wouldn’t you?” His warm minty breath fanned across her cheek.

She bit her lip and looked away, so he pinched her clit until she cried out her response, “YES, I’D LIKE THAT!”

“Mm, that’s my kinky girl. Now answer the first question."

“… I-I want you to be rough w-with me,” she stuttered in a small voice.

“Tell me how..”

Rose swallowed down her last bit of pride. “I- I want.. want you to use me… push me to my knees and f-fuck my throat… bend me over and rail me so hard I can’t think straight… want you to pull my hair and bite my shoulder when you.. cum inside m-me...” She continued until he gave a satisfied hum.

“Good girl, see how easy that was?” He cooed, moving to release her hair from its loose bun, allowing the caramel tendrils to messily fall around her face. The sudden tenderness made her dizzy.

He pumped in and out while rolling her clit between his fingers, drawing out one confession after another until her lips parted, eyes blown wide as he dangled her between pleasure and desperation, so tempted to grind her hips and take it, ride his hand to her heart’s content, yet too afraid of the punishment he’d inflict on her if she dared. Arousal soaked the sheets beneath her thighs, he had her right where he wanted her.

“There’s one more thing, isn’t there?” His lips formed a cocky smirk.

“huh…?” She uttered, too overwhelmed to understand.

“C'mon, you know what you want... to be overpowered, held down and punished when you try to struggle… I’d make you take it all at once and you couldn’t do anything to stop me,” he summarized smugly, licking his lips.

“Oh god, you read that part too..” The embarrassment made her want to recoil and disappear in the mattress, her hands raised to cover her face.

He yanked her wrists down. “No, none of that, no hiding. I honestly find it impressive you managed to convince me you’re a vanilla angel when you’re really just a perverted slut.”

Her jaw slackened, the shock of his degradating words biting into her. “Kai-”

“Nuh-uh, that’s not my name. What’s my name, Rosy?” Her melted brain buffered as he took to scissoring her walls apart, preparing her. “What’s my name, hmm?.. the name you wrote on every page…”

Just as she realized, he sped up. “..daADDY!” She yelped as her belly tightened violently.

He removed his digits when she clenched down, chuckling at her little whines and whimpers, cruelly denying her another orgasm.

“Damn right I’m your daddy… but if you insist on being treated like a brainless fucktoy, we should have a.. what do you call it?”

“… a s-safe word?” she uttered.

“Exactly that! How about… ‘eclipse’ ? If you want to stop for whatever reason, just say it and that's your way out, understood?”

She nodded her head slowly but he frowned, not satisfied with her lack of response.

He lifted her chin. “Use your words, princess.”

“Yes daddy,” she mewled sweetly, making his hard cock swell in his shorts.

“Now that we have that sorted out,” he stuffed his slick covered fingers down her throat, stroking her tongue as she keened at the flavor, “I should let you know I’ve been keeping my own secrets, but you wouldn’t have any idea because I’m not a silly girl who writes them down for anyone to read. I know you hide this part of yourself because you're afraid people will judge you but I don’t. I want to know everything so I can do all those things to you and more that you couldn’t even think up in your dirty little diary...”

He had her flipped on her stomach and raised her hips, her only warning the rattle of his belt before he slammed into her sensitive core, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke. It hurt so good the pain tore a ragged cry from her throat as her tiny cunt struggled to take all of him but he didn’t have to pretend he cared anymore because he knew she loved it, evident by the way she leaked down his balls while holding onto the quilted comforter for dear life.

He yanked her up by the base of her hair. “Isn’t this what you wanted, babe?” He husked. Her response, an indiscernible whine. His tongue darted out to taste the tears that already streaked her pretty face. “Aw baby, did I ruin you already? What a shame, I’m just getting started.”

Holding her by the back of the neck granted him more leverage to pull her into each thrust reaching deeper, pounding her gummy cervix. "Fuckkk.." he groaned.

“Daddy, please,” she sobbed out, walls writhing around him, the intensity rendering her with barely enough strength to reach back and splay her fingers across his lower abdomen, arms turned to jelly just before she could try to push at him.

"Stop that. You practically begged for this," he growled, snatching her wrists in one bruising grip while landing two harsh slaps to her right cheek in a show of dominance. She screamed.

Her juices squelched between their bodies but she was too far gone to feel ashamed. “I know you're close... just let go, cum on my cock, baby... just like that," he whispered, breath hitching as she came on command, her little back arching into him by pure instinct as her brain had long gone gooey. He got off on the control. Strong arms linked around her convulsing body as he fucked her through her release while warding off his own, wanting to prolong her torment a little longer.

He let her top half melt into the mattress, her face buried in the pillow while his powerful hands captured her pelvis, continuing the assault on her battered cunt. She pulled at the bedsheets with white knuckles.

“One more… I know you’ve got it in you.. just one more princess, c'mon, wanna’ feel you cum hard this time.” He groaned through clenched teeth, snapping his hips at just the right angle that had her keen with each thrust. Her cunt hugged him like a slippery glove made just for him. Sweat dripped down his brow and gravely moans escaped his lips as she tightened and creamed around him with a muffled cry.

Her glossy eyes fixated on the ceiling as she regulated her breathing, not blinking yet not at all focused. Kai carefully wiped her down with a damp rag. Her silence made him worry that he’d taken it too far. Hurt her. Scared her, so much she’d never let him touch her again- or at worst, refuse to help him leave. He was desperate to know what she was thinking or at the very least hear her voice to ease his mind.

“Hey Rosy..” he reached down and caressed her soft cheek, “Rosalina?” he whispered softly.

She nestled her face into his palm, the corners of her lips raising weakly as she breathed out.

“Thank you, daddy.”

#kai parker #bennett oc #bonnie bennett #tvdu #tvd fanfiction #vampire diaries #the vampire diaries smut #kai parker smut #kai parker fanfiction #kai parker x oc #kai parker x poc reader #tvd kai #dark!fic #dark kai parker #kai parker x y/n #kai parker x reader smut #tvd oc #tw dubcon #tw yandere

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starcrossedxwriter · 2 years

Text

Masterlist

Here is the master list for all my fics! The date at the bottom is the last time it was updated (I try to keep it as updated as possible)

Thank YOU for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting! I appreciate and LOVE the reception and feedback and commentary more than you could ever know - it fuels me and keeps the inspiration flowing!

All stories have a face claim. However, with all my OCs, I encourage folks to see themselves in the story! Also I love angst BUT all my stories are happily ever afters so enjoy the emotional rollercoasters knowing everyone'll be ok lol Thank you again for reading! Love y'all!

MBJ Fics:

Built for Love Series - Michael B Jordan x Famous OC Reader Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan

Series Summary: Charlotte Bennett was not looking for love when she moved to LA and landed her first role in Creed. Quite the opposite actually. However, her costar, Michael B Jordan, makes her question everything she once believed possible for herself and her future. As she builds a life and relationship with him, ghosts from her past threaten to destroy it all.

Series Warnings: Violence, Mentions of past experiences with DV, Angst, Mature Sexual Content

** SMUT

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6**) (Interlude**) (7**) (8) (9) (10) (11**) (12)

One-shots:

Completely random one shots that follow Charlotte & MBJ as they navigate the world as Hollywood’s Black power couple. Whether it be stardom, their work, parenthood, or relationship drama, the Jordans are building a love that will last a lifetime.

Protective

Oscar Night Part 1** (Part 2**)

Bleeding Through (1)

Falling Apart (1) (2)

Date Night**

Asks:

Nicknames

GQ Couples Quiz

Wicked Fantasies - MBJ x Black OC

Moodboard: coming soon!

Series Summary: Raven’s life, as of late, was one unexpected turn after another. It seemed as though every time she got a break and could get her head above water, something came tumbling to knock her back down. As she struggles to get her foot in the door of LA’s call girl scene to make extra money, she stumbles upon her big break: Michael B. Jordan, Hollywood’s most famous, talented, and notorious actor, director, and playboy. One night of pleasure for him would solve many of her continuously mounting financial problems. However, an unlucky trip to the hospital and an ill-timed flash of a paparazzi’s camera snag her the proposition of a lifetime, one that would solve all her problems and allow her to live out her most wicked fantasies with the sexist man alive. However, she forgot one cardinal rule: fantasies and pretend never last and reality would always come around eventually.

Warnings: Mature sexual content (18+), HEAVY Dom/Sub storyline (the whole nine), this is for the kinky girlsssssss, angst

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11.1)

Asks:

Late Nights

MBJ Requests:

A Love That Never Fades (MBJ x OC)

Erik Killmonger Fics

Unbreakable - Erik Killmonger x Black OC

Moodboard: Coming soon!

Series Summary: Naja, the younger sister of the Queen of Wakanda, hated few things. And at the top of that shortlist: Prince N’Jadaka. Well, if she were honest, he was the entirety of the list. Once destined to be a princess of Wakanda, Naja was the picture of kindness and grace. Now, she is hailed as Wakanda’s most fearless, dangerous, and reclusive war dog. After more than a decade of putting as much distance as possible between her and the life she almost had, Naja is forced to come face to face with the person she hates most again. With a threat looming over Wakanda and lives at risk, Naja must decide if trusting Prince N'Jadaka is worth the risk before it is too late.

Warnings: Angst

(1**) (2)

Last Updated: May 31, 2024

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x oc #creed 3 #black panther #masterlist

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flowery-mess · 1 month

Text

WINGS AND EMBERS

chapter 1

Summary: You and Bradley met for the first time when accident happened on the base. Bob and Nat had emergency landing, because their plane was on fire. At the scene yours and Bradleys paths crossed for the first time and since then your relationship was full of embers, and planes.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!! light smut involving dry humping / emergency landing of plane, plane accident involving fire / alcohol / English is not my first language

Pairing: firefighter!Y/N x Bradley Bradshaw

Word count: 7,5k

„Right engine on fire!“ Bob says into his helmet mic when he sees the smoke and flashes of red and orange from his and Phoenix’s plane.

“Bob, Phoenix, make an emergency landing right now.” the dispatcher echoes through their helmet settings. “I repeat, Bob and Phoenix come back to land.”

“I don’t know if we can make it to the runway, the plane is getting out of my control.” Phoenix managed to say before she and Bob smelled the smoke in their cockpit. “I think you should call the fire department.”

That was the last thing everyone heard before loud crash was heard at the end of the runway. Rest of the Dagger squad along with Maverick just watching from the hangar as few men ran to get Phoenix and Bob out of the plane. Preferably in two whole pieces.

Everyone held their breath for what felt like thousands of hours. The plane was fine, just this morning everyone had to do their check up on everything, they had mechanics look as well. No one expected this.

Bob and Phoenix made it out of the smoke show that was going on just a seconds before everyone heard sirens and saw two big trucks coming in the way of the plane that was crushed and too far gone.

Two big engine trucks with number 16 on their sides, blasting their sirens and firefighters already on the edge of their seats to jump out and do what they need to do.

You can do it. Don’t panic. You can do it. Don’t panic. was replaying in your head like a mantra. This was your first call since moving to San Diego and it made you sick. You became part of the station quickly, finding new friends in your colleagues, but you had yet to be on call with them. On call for a fucking navy aircraft being on fire. What a great start.

You knew how it should go, in your head. You were scared how it will be in the reality that was closer and closer as you stopped just a few metres away from the plane.

You saw one of the engines whip the flames, smoke covering the rest of the plane and people desperately trying to distinguish the fire with their fire extinguishers. It looked almost ironic. It takes one person to control the plane generally, but it takes a second to turn it around, needing dozens of people to take over the control again.

You’re not alone, Nathan has your back. You’re not alone, Nathan has your back. Another mantra you tried to calm yourself down with. Nathan is your supervisor for a period of time until everyone, including you, is sure you can handle things alone. You don’t doubt your skills or experience, even though you don’t have many, yet. But you hoped your first call would be something smaller, that you could gain confidence to do call like this, bigger and important ones.

“Y/N, I’m going to be your shadow, you’re the commanding officer for our part of the job on scene. I will step in only if it’s needed. Do you copy?”

“Copy.” oh fucking great was the first thing that you thought after this little exchange with Nathan.

You know you will be thankful for throwing you in the water like this after, but now you were scared. Scared that you won’t know what to do, what to say or maybe just pass out completely.

“Parker, Y/L/N, you two handle your things. Thompson, Collins and Brooks you get the plane from right side. Walker, Hayes and Bennett you go from left side. Miller and Lewis you handle the hoses and back up if anyone needs you. Reed, you go with Parker and Y/L/N and get someone from the base to show you where we can get water, if we ran out of ours. Does everyone copy?” The captain, John Murphy, ended his talk to the whole team and wave of “copy captain” was heard through our transmitters.

Thompson, Travis Thompson, seated in the other car showed you thumbs up from the window that was next to him. Travis and you quickly became friends when you moved to San Diego. You were assigned to one of the flats the station provided for cheap money for the fire fighters. Which was fine by you for the start, but Travis took that as his chance to offer you room in his big ass apartment. He recently broke up with his boyfriend and said he didn’t want to be alone in there, but also you living there with him would stop him from moving another boyfriend in there too soon, again. So you agreed, moving in the same day. You quickly became close and you swear it made your start at the station easier. Showing you thumbs up and mouthing ‘You got it.’ was his way of supporting you, because he could saw the look on your face.

“Okay team, let’s go.” your captain’s words put you out of your daydreaming and back on the ground of hard reality.

You put your helmet on the same moment your feet touched the ground. You looked over your shoulder at your team already in action, with Murphy’s supervision. So you motioned to Nathan and started walking towards the group of people, aviators you assumed.

“Hello, my name is Y/N Y/L/N and this is my colleague lieutenant Parker. Is anyone hurt? Who was on the plane?” you immediately started asking the right questions, finding confidence in your actions.

“I’m captain Mitchell. Two aviators were in the plane, we managed to get them out. Doctor from the base took them in his office, but we didn’t get any information since then. But they’re taken care of.” the eldest man of the group started talking to you.

“Okay captain. You should send the group of people that was trying to extinguish the fire to his office too. Anyone else needs doctor’s attention?” you asked the group, looking them one by one, searching for any signs of discomfort.

Until you met two hazel eyes and caught your attention for a second longer than everyone else’s. Man in his late 30’s you’d say, light brown hair with hint of curls in them and worry in his eyes. You two kept eye contact for what felt like hours, but sadly was just a few seconds.

When you didn’t find any signs of pain or discomfort, you continued with your instructions. “My people are doing their best to handle the situation as quickly as possible, but I will need you, captain, and your people to move somewhere else, in case the fire spreads. Let’s get you in building A3.”

Building A3 was far enough from the runway, looking like the best option for a shelter right now. You had map of the base, which you studied quickly on the way here.

“No one’s hurt, two aviators from the plain are looked at by the doctor, moving rest of the group to building A3 captain.” You spoke to your transmitter to update your captain on your actions as you started to lead the group in direction of building A3.

Everyone was quiet on the way there, still in shock. Some members of the group sat down, some couldn’t keep still as they paced from the window to the door.

You were happy about how you handled the situation so far, but didn’t want to show it too soon, in respect to the group of aviators in front of you.

Everyone kept quiet, waiting for the information from your captain. You watched the big watch on the wall move to show it’s been 30 minutes since you arrived, 20 since you entered this room. The only thing you could hear was loud stamps of the big boots the men were wearing as they continued to walk back and forth.

You searched for the hazel eyes you noticed back at the hangar. But you only found the man’s back, as he was looking out of the window, hands behind his head as he didn’t know what to do with them. He was wearing his khaki uniform, but you could still see his back muscles through the material when he flexed his hands. You wanted him to turn around, just to see his eyes once again. But he didn’t.

You kept switching your gaze between the watch and Nathan. He only gave you a nod and small smile, to silently tell you that you did a good job so far.

“Fire’s out. I repeat, fire is out.” Everyone in the room turned their heads to you and Nathan when they heard your captain.

You could see the relief take over their faces.

“Can we leave this building now?” the blonde one asked you.

Instead of answering him, you talked to your captain.

“Can we dismiss the group we have with us captain? Or do you want us to take them back to the scene?” you asked.

“You can dismiss them to their captain to proceed with the situation furthermore.”

“Copy.” You said as you let your hand down from your shoulder, where your transmitter was.

“Captain Mitchell, you and your people are free to go. Thank you all for your cooperation. We hope your colleagues are okay.” you said in the direction of captain Pete Mitchell.

“Thank you for your service, you and your team. We owe you one.” The Navy captain came to shake your hand.

After that everyone left the room, only the brown-haired man with a mustache stopped by the two of you, to shake your hands too.

“No need for that, it’s our job,” You said while he held your smaller hand in his, looking at his uniform for a search of his name “Lieutenant Bradshaw.” You added with a slight smirk.

You saw the corner of his mouth raise a bit too, pink covering his cheeks as he let go of your hand.

Before Bradley completely left the room, he could hear Nathan tell you “Good job for your first time kid. Wouldn’t do it better myself.” And when he looked over his shoulder, he saw big smile on your face and Nathan giving you side hug with small ruffle of your hair. He couldn’t help the smile on his face at that sight, guessing you weren’t in this field for long, he felt what you could call proud? Even though he doesn’t know you, he knew you did a good job too.

-----

“Oh hello there, you bad ass woman.” You turned your head just to see Travis standing in the doorway of your office.

“Oh shut up Trav, I just did my job.”

“I just did my job.” He repeated after you and tried to mock your voice. “But really, I could see the worry in your eyes when we arrived there. I mean it, you did a good job.”

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help the smile on your face. You knew you did good job, but it was nice to hear it from someone else.

“I think that’s a reason to go out and celebrate!”

“And I think that it’s just your way to force me out so you could get laid and abandon me at the bar,” You were very quick to answer, remembering the last time you and Travis went out. He got laid, you got lost and had to sleep in your office on a couch, because you didn’t remember your address yet. “just like you did last time.”

“I’m never gonna hear the end of that, am I?” Trav looked at you with a frown.

“Nop.” Highlighting the p, you laughed at Travis’s face.

“Okay we can go out, but not tonight. When the shift’s over the only place I want to go is my bed. Tomorrow is okay with you?”

Before Travis could give you an answer Matt and Olivia arrived at your office door.

“What’s happening tomorrow?” Olivia asked with a spark in her eyes.

“Liv, I was just suggesting that we should go out and celebrate Y/N’s first call. You two coming?” you both knew what the answer is going to be. Liv is the biggest party animal you’ve met in your life so far and Matt is just so in love with her that he would follow her anywhere.

“Tell us place and time and we’ll be there.” Liv didn’t disappoint.

“Hard deck, 8PM tomorrow.” Trav said with yet another smirk on his face.

“Uuuh I see what you’re trying to do there Travis, we will be there.” This time Matt answered before the two of them left.

“And what exactly you are trying to do here, Travis?” it seemed like you were the only one to not understand what was going on. And because Travis can’t keep anything to himself even if his life would depend on it, he shamelessly tells you.

“Hard deck is a bar next to the beach, close to the naval base. Like very close.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “You don’t understand what am I trying to say?”

“No clue.”

“It’s a place that’s filled with aviators every Friday and Saturday. And actually, every other day too. But the point is, you need to get laid, so we’re going to use todays call to make an impression and I’m sure the aviators will find their way to thank you.” Travis continued before you could answer “We’re leaving the house at 7,30 be ready!”

“I don’t need to get laid!” you yelled out so he could hear you in the hallway.

You didn’t need to get laid, but Travis tried to convince you otherwise for some time now. He said you act like his grandma, you work, clean the house or go for a walk. When you two go out you never really flirt with anyone. You’re shy and you’re not the type to do a one-night stands.

But then you thought about certain aviator you met today on the call. Lieutenant Bradshaw. You would like to see his pretty face again, that’s true. But what if he has a girlfriend? Wife? He looked at least few years older than you. Does he have kids? If he does, then he probably won’t be at the Hard deck tomorrow. But what if he doesn’t?

You shake your head and the thoughts away as you start typing in your computer to finish the paperwork so you can head home to get a much needed sleep.

-----

Waking up at 11AM is not a thing you could do every day with your job, so you made sure to stay a bit longer in the comfortable bed before you got up to make yourself breakfast.

“Good morning.” Travis greeted you in a singing tone, while flipping pancakes.

“Good morning.” You shuffled around him to get yourself a glass from the cabinet. “Can I have some?”

“Only if you leave with a pilot tonight.” He looked at you, dead serious look on his face.

“I guess I’ll do my toast then.” You answered with an ironic smile.

“Of course you can have some. But only if you tell me if the aviators you met yesterday were hot, you can do that.” He knows how to make you laugh.

“Well, I didn’t talk to them, only to their captain. But they all looked hot in their uniforms. I’m not sure if any of them were you type tho.”

“I don’t have a type. I just know when I see.” Sassy answer as always.

“Of course you do. Do they wear those uniforms when they go out?” you asked.

“Y/N, do we wear uniforms when we go to Dean’s?” he looked at you like you just asked what’s 2+2.

“But our uniforms are heavy and big Travis.”

“Some of them do on a workday, when they go for a drink after work. But not when they go out on a weekend.”

“What a shame.” You sighed when a memory of certain lieutenant crossed your mind.

“You’re not telling me something.” Travis looked at you with a look.

“What?” you tried to play dumb.

“Yesterday you didn’t seem interested and now it’s a shame that they don’t go out in their uniforms? Did someone caught your eye yesterday?”

“I’ll tell you only if you pinky promise me, that you won’t say a word about it tonight.”

He offered you his pinky while you started talking about handsome lieutenant Bradshaw. You could only hope he will keep his mouth shut at the Hard deck later.

-----

“Y/N you look so good.” Liv had smile on her face while checking out your outfit.

For tonight you chose black leather shorts with black tights underneath, black top that you tucked into the shorts, high leather boots and loose leather jacket on top, if it gets cold later at night. Everyone knows your color is black, you rarely wear different colors outside of work. But your personality is nothing alike black color. You decided to curl your hair and wear decent eyeliner with red lipstick, something that’s significant for you too.

“Thank you. Are you two matching or am I drunk already?” you asked the couple infront of you with a laugh. You had pre drinks at home with Travis, but you were not drunk for sure, it was just funny to see big guy as Matt in matching outfits with his girlfriend.

“I had to beg him to wear this shirt, so you better say we look cute or I’ll kill you.” Liv said with a death stare.

“I’ll go get drinks.” You turned to leave the table before Liv could say anything else, you’re the worst liar and you’re also not fan of couple matching outfits.

At the bar you scanned the crowd while you waited for yours and Travis’s drinks. You don’t usually go to Hard Deck, you and all the firefighters have similar place like this, it’s called Dean’s bar, so you don’t recognise anyone’s faces.

Slight frown forms on your face once you realize the one person you were looking for is nowhere to be seen.

“Here you go.” The bartender get’s your attention back as she hands you two glasses with different liquors in them. Beer for Travis, white wine for you. You don’t usually go for wine on a night out, but tonight you felt like the tipsiness and confidence from the sweet wine will be appreciated. The headache tomorrow not so much though.

With a thank you, you turned around to find the table your mates were sitting at and you made your way to them.

“Beer for you my darling.” You used this nickname for Travis a lot it became an inside joke for you two.

One night at Dean’s you made Travis pretend you two were couple, because certain firefighter from different station didn’t take no for an answer so you two played a couple. You called Travis ‘darling’ like a hundred times under the fear and nerves from the man that was trying to get your attention.

The bar was getting more crowded as the night went on, you were on a third glass of wine when you heard Travis go “Is that the man you were talking about?”

And there he was. Bradley Bradshaw in his ‘night out’ outfit that caught your eye. You saw him only in a uniform, so you didn’t know what he likes to wear outside of work, but this wouldn’t be your bet if you had to place one. He was wearing blue jeans that hugged his legs in the right places, white t shirt with a Hawaiian shirt over it.

He scanned the place the same way you did at the bar earlier that night, but once he spotted his friends he made his over to them. His gaze didn’t make it to your table, so he never saw you.

He would be looking for you the same way you were looking for him, but he wouldn’t think of you choosing Hard Deck for a night out.

“It sure is.” You answered Travis as your eyes never left Bradley’s back as he made his way over to a table full of aviators.

“So what’s the plan?” Travis nudged your shoulder with his.

“The plan?”

“Yeah. I hope you didn’t plan on just staring at him the whole night.”

“Well no, but I also didn’t prepare a plan.”

You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to get to know him. You wanted to ask him about his friends, if they’re okay. But you were not the one to make the first move, you were shy.

“Good thing is he just came here, so we have time to make one.”

“I don’t need a plan Trav, this place isn’t that big, if he sees me and wants to talk, he will. I’m not making the first move, you should know that by now.”

Travis tried to argue with you, but there was no point in that. In fact, you were scared of rejection, so even with the wine in your blood the only thing you could do was stare into his back and hope he’d feel your eyes burning a hole in his back.

-----

“Look who I found.” You, Liv and Matt turned your heads towards Travis, who had a brown haired woman next to him. They both saw confusion on your faces as they started to explain who this woman is.

“This is Nat, she’s one of the pilots from the plane from the call we went on earlier this week.” Travis was never this happy to talk about a woman, but you quickly realized why it changed just now. It was his plan. His plan to get you and Bradley together tonight.

“Oh, hi! How are you feeling? I guess it wasn’t anything serious if you’re here tonight.” Matt asked her.

“I’m good, so is Bob, the other aviator. We stayed at the hospital for 24 hours, but yeah it wasn’t anything serious. But still, I wanted to say thank you, it was scary as hell.” Nat answered with a thankful smile on her face. “I told Travis that you should join us, I’m sure the guys won’t mind. And also I owe you a round of shots.”

You should see the look on Travis’s face, like a child on Christmas morning.

Before anyone could protest, Travis was dragging you all to the other side of the bar where the aviators were seated.

“Everyone, these are some of the firefighters that saved our asses, I’m sure you won’t mind them joining us.” Nat made them bring more chairs for you and the three others to sit and then started introducing everyone.

You were sure you can’t remember that many names and call signs, so you gave up at the second guy Nat pointed at.

“That’s Bradley right there, next to him is Hangman.” You looked at Bradley at the same moment he looked at you. You exchanged smiles and he gave you a little wave. You didn’t listen to Nat listing others names as you and Bradley continued looking at each other.

You didn’t know if it was the wine talking, but you felt something. You felt like if a literal spark jumped from you to Bradley. You two couldn’t help stealing glances at each other through the night. You haven’t talked to each other directly at the table, but your eyes did the job.

When you left the table to go to the bathroom, you felt Bradley’s gaze following you. That’s why you weren’t really surprised to see him waiting for you outside the bathroom.

“Oh there you are.” He said awkwardly.

You didn’t know what was the right answer to that, so you just went with simple “Hi.”

“Hi, ugh, would you maybe like to have a drink outside? I feel like there’s zero chances that we could have a conversation at that table.” Was he shy? It definitely seemed like it.

“I’d like that, yeah.”

And that’s how you ended up at the beach, sitting on a bench with another full glass of wine Bradley got you along with beer for himself.

“So, you’re new here huh?” Bradley started.

“How could you tell? Is it that obvious?”

“I heard colleague saying something about doing a good job for your first time back at the base, so I figured you’re either new here in San Diego or you’re new to the job. But based on the fact I never saw you around makes me think the first option is the right one.” Oh boy so he was attentive person.

“You’re right, I got transferred here just two months ago. This was my first call here. I work for the crisis management, so most of the time I’m in my office, I go on calls only when I’m needed at the scene.”

“That sounds like a cool job. Also a safe one.”

“Yes, it’s safer than being firefighter. When I’m on scene I never really go into the danger, I usually go the opposite way, just like the other day at the base.” Bradley nodded at your answer, sipping his beer. The way his lips hugged the top of the beer glass caught your attention and you had to mentally smack yourself for thinking about the things it made you feel.

“And you? You’re from here or were you transferred here too?” you asked Bradley in return.

“I was sent here few years ago for a mission, stayed here since then.”

“Now you’re the one to talk about a cool job. All mystery with the mission like it’s a day to day occurrence.” That made Bradley laugh.

“It is for aviators. I’m not telling you the details, it’s boring, trust me.” Bradley’s goal wasn’t really to talk your head off with details about a mission you wouldn’t understand.

“Okay, tell me something about yourself then.”

“What would you like to know?” everything, you wanted to know everything about this man that was sitting next to you, currently looking you straight to your eyes.

“Why is you call sign Rooster?”

“Of course, that’s everyone’s favorite question.” Bradley leaned back with a laugh. “My dad was aviator too, his call sign was Goose, so I went from there.” Oh, what a good choice of question you thought, after he answered. You really made him talk about his dad in the first few minutes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know that, I shouldn’t have ask that.” You were afraid that you opened something that he didn’t want to talk about.

“No you’re good, there’s no way you could’ve know that.” Bradley reassured you. “My turn now. I know I should not ask for woman’s age, but I feel like you’re few years younger than me, so I feel like it’s good thing to ask before something weird happens.”

That didn’t offend you, because he was right, he looked like he got few years on you.

“I’m 27, you?”

“I’m 37. Now you have a last chance to back out of this.”

“Out of what?” you teasingly asked Bradley, knowing what he meant. You both couldn’t help those little smirks forming on your faces, that just confirmed your theory from earlier that there is some spark between the two of you.

“Out of me asking you to come back tomorrow. And then maybe asking you out on a date. Who knows.”

“I think I can handle 10 years.” You were glad that the sun was set for hours now, so Bradley couldn’t see your red cheeks. You felt not only your mind, but also your body attracted to him.

You two got lost in getting to know each other until you noticed your glasses have been empty for a while now, and also the sounds from the Hard Deck becoming quitter every minute now.

“Oh shit.” You cursed when you looked at your phone. You saw missed calls from Trav, Liv and Matt. Messages asking where the hell were you and that they hope you’re not dead.

“Someone missing you?” Bradley sounded nervous, afraid that maybe he overstepped something you forgot to mention, like a boyfriend.

“My friends that I came with, I never let them know where I went. They’re going to kill me.” Bradley was hoping you didn’t see him let out the big breath he was holding in, remembering you came with a group and not a boyfriend.

You started standing up, collecting your things from the bench. For a minute he thought you’re going to run away from him, but then you turned around to face him. “So are you going to?”

“Going to…?” he repeated your question, not knowing where you were going with that.

“Are you going to ask me to come here again tomorrow, Bradley Bradshaw?”

“I am asking you, Y/N Y/L/N, will you come here again tomorrow?”

You laughed at the phrasing of the question.

“I will.” And with that you left Bradley at the bench and run inside the bar to find Travis worried sick about you.

“Please at least tell me you got laid.”

“Oh shut up Travis and take me home.” You took his hand in yours and led the way out of the bar.

-----

You knew last night that drinking wine will have consequences in the morning, but you still hated yourself when you were sitting at the cold floor in your bathroom, waiting if your stomach will either calm down or empty itself.

Last night Travis really tried to get details from you, but you found fun in the way how his face looked when you told him you’re keeping Bradley as a secret for now. You didn’t even tell him about the plans you made for tonight, because chances are that he would make Matt and Liv go out with him again.

Laying on the bathroom floor you also realized you never agreed on a time you should meet tonight and that you also never exchanged phone numbers. So you could only hope that Bradley will show up tonight.

-----

You felt like a teenager sneaking out of the house when you tried to tiptoe from your room to the door without Travis noticing. Sadly for you, Travis has eyes and ears everywhere.

“Where do you think your going young lady?” and now you really felt like your mother caught you sneaking out, when you turned to see Travis standing with hands on his hips and head tilted just a bit to the side.

“I am going on a date?” you said more like a question than a fact, because you didn’t really know what tonight meant.

“With who?”

“With Bradley.”

“Oh really?” simple mention of Bradley’s name changed Travis from your mother to your best friend really quickly.

“He asked me to come again tonight. Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea. Go. Leave. Now. You don’t want to be late. Don’t come back.” He literally pushed you out of the door.

You stayed loyal to your favorite color black, but chose to wear a dress tonight, with a V neck, showing your chest a little, cute ruffles on the sleeves and they ended just above your knees. You let your hair down and did your make up the same way as last night.

When you entered Hard Deck alone you felt wave of anxiety wash over you. You tried to look for Bradley, but you had no luck. You didn’t feel comfortable staying inside just by yourself, so you after you got yourself a drink you made your way over to the bench from last night.

Not even 10 minutes later you heard someone coming in your way, so with hopeful eyes that the someone is Bradley, you turned around. And there he was. His outfit the same, just different color of his Hawaiian shirt.

“I was starting to think you’re going to stood me up.” You let your thoughts out before you could think.

“Me? Never, I’m a gentleman.” Bradley stood in front of you, which made you tilt your head back, so your eyes could meet his.

Bradley’s breath got caught in his throat when he saw they way you look from his height, how your lips are just a bit parted and your eyes are looking at him with a lust.

“I got us a bottle of wine you had yesterday if that’s okay?” he said as he showed you the bottle.

You looked at your glass that had rum and coke in it, then back at the bottle in his hand and your head was back in your bathroom this morning.

“I was actually going for a cocktail tonight, after I spent the whole morning in my bathroom, but I guess wine it is.” As you finished the drink in your hand.

“Oh sorry I should’ve asked first, I can get you something else then.”

“No Bradley, I’ll take the wine, it’s okay.” You actually find it nice that he brought something he knew you liked, so what if it you spend another morning with your head in the toilet bowl.

“Are you sure? I can go back and-“

“Bradley shut up and open the bottle.” You ordered him with a laugh.

Bradley did exactly as you said, pouring in your glass first and then in his.

“So, do you have different shirt for every day of the year?” you hid your smile behind the glass.

“Very funny. Just wait until you fall in love with them.” And how you will look in them, he thought. He could picture it very clearly, you spending the night at his place and then in the morning walking around his kitchen in nothing but his Hawaiian shirt.

“We will see, I’m not sure about that though. Your turn.”

“We’re doing it again? Is it like 20 questions game or something?”

“No, it’s called getting to know each other.”

“We can do that without taking turns in asking questions.”

“But it’s fun. Just ask me something, anything.” And Bradley thought about it for a minute. He had things he wanted to ask you, but didn’t know what’s appropriate and what’s not.

“Do you have any siblings?” he asked.

“Two younger brothers. You?”

“No, I’m only child.” You two then shared a look for a moment, probably picturing each other’s families. “Your turn.”

“Do you like it here in San Diego? Can you picture settling down here?” you didn’t want to sound pushy or something, but if his answer would be no, you’d like to know that now. You like San Diego and don’t plan on moving away soon, if ever.

“Yeah I do, that’s why I asked to get a permanent position here. I wanted to settle down and this place felt right so I’m glad everything worked out.” You two then shared another look, probably picturing each other’s future in San Diego.

“My turn.” Bradley said, “Do you believe in aliens?” you shot him ‘are you serious?’ look.

“How does one answer this question?” you asked back.

“I think simple yes or no will do.” Bradley said with a serious look on his face, but you could see right behind it.

“Yes, I think we’re not the only existence in the space.” You gave him your answer, “but I have to fill my glass if you’re going to ask me questions like this.”

You moved a bit closer to him, reaching for the bottle of wine he was holding. When your fingers touched his you felt wave of heat go through your body. You shot him a look, not sure if he felt it too, but by the way he was looking at you, he did.

He took your glass and poured wine into it for you, handing it back to you, your fingers touched again. You felt the mood shift a bit.

“My turn.” You broke the silence, your voice deeper and quieter now. “How many relationships you had?”

“3, all of them lasted between 2 to 3 years. You?”

“Only one, lasted for three years.”

“Why did you break up?” Bradley asked.

“We both felt like we outgrew each other and wanted to try new things, so no bad blood.”

“New things?”

“Yes. It was first relationship for both of us, it was lot of firsts for me, for him too. So we agreed we taught each other what we were supposed to and that it was time to move on. We were more friends than partners in the end. It made sense to end it.”

“Uhm.” Bradley just nodded, his hand moving dangerously close to your body. He hesitated for a few seconds, before he asked another question. “Is he the only person you were intimate with?”

He moved his fingers across your neck, touching you there gently.

“Oh so we skipped the part about what was my dog’s name or what’s my favorite movie?” it was supposed to be a joke, but Bradley seemed very interested in your answer. “No.”

One word, but he got his answer.

“How many then?”

“Isn’t it my turn now?” you asked even though you knew this wasn’t a game anymore. Bradley hooked his hand around your knee and shifted you closer to him. You were now just a few inches from each other, you felt his breath on your skin.

“You’re right. Ask me.” He didn’t mind you didn’t answer him, instead he leaned his face closer to yours, looking into your eyes searching for a permission. When you nodded your head, he lowered his mouth to your jaw while keeping his hand on your knee still.

You really wanted to ask him something, but your mind went blank. All you could feel was his burning skin on your knee and his lips slowly moving from your jaw to your neck.

“Huh?” you felt his mustache on your skin and his nose poking into your neck, encouraging you to ask your question.

“I don’t-“ you let out a noise very close to a moan when Bradley lightly sucked at the skin under you ear, “I don’t have anymore questions.”

You didn’t even realized it, but your fingers were wrapped arounds Bradley’s hand that was on your knee, giving him all the signs he needed to continue.

He gave you small gentle kisses from your ear to you cheek slowly, but then he stopped right before your lips. He wanted you to do it, to kiss him first.

Everything felt like in a slow motion, as you took his cheek in your other hand and felt his scars against your skin. You stroke your thumb across his lips before pulling him into you.

You started with innocent kisses, slow, but passionate.

“Wait,” you parted your lips from Bradley’s as you looked around, “someone can see us from the bar.”

“I have my car in the parking lot, if you’d feel more comfortable there. Or we can stop and I’ll get you home, whatever you want.” Bradley really wanted to take you on the backseat of his Bronco, but he also felt like this could be more than one night stand, so was okay with just kissing for tonight.

“Your car.” Simple answer that made Bradley stood up, take your hand in his bigger one and lead the way.

He opened the passenger door for you and then seated himself behind the wheel.

“You’re not driving us anywhere, right?” panic took over you for a minute.

“Of course not.” Silence took over the car after that.

You two were looking at each other, studying each other’s faces.

“Come here.” Bradley said as he lean over to your seat to cup your face in both of his hands and connected your lips once again.

You put your hands over his as you opened your mouth a bit, giving Bradley access to deepen the kiss.

One of his big hands slid down your body, stopping at your knee as he lifted you a bit. You took the hint and helped him move you over to his seat right onto his lap.

He positioned his seat so you both were more comfortable. You didn’t waist any time and leaned down to return the neck kisses. He let out satisfied breath and moved his hands to your hips. When he squeezed them in his hands, it made you move in a way that reminded you both just how little fabric is between you.

You smirked against his neck and moved your lips back to his just before you rolled your hips again.

“Baby,” you felt his hands slide lower to grab your ass to stop you from moving again. “don’t.”

“Or what?” you rocked your hips against his firm grip, you being the one holding a moan in now.

“You’re a tease huh?”

You didn’t give him an answer, instead you started moving your hips in a rhythm. Your dress rolled up, so now it was only your panties separating you from his jeans covered bulge.

“Bradley” you moaned his name into his open mouth, before you started kissing him again.

You knew you were going to reach orgasm if you don’t stop doing what you’re doing, but neither of you seemed to mind.

“Just like that baby.” What happened to his ‘don’t?’, the truth is you didn’t mind. All you could think about was how to not lose the rhythm of moving your hips and how his hands felt on your skin.

One of his hand stayed on your ass, encouraging you to keep moving, the other one was grabbing your neck, keeping your mouth on his.

You felt how wet you were when Bradley’s hand moved between your legs to put your panties to the side and remove one more layer of clothes to help you get your high.

“So wet and I didn’t have to move a finger.” And he was right. All it took was few kisses and light touches and your pantie were wet. You let out another moan, this time a bit louder.

His hand then moved from between your legs to grip your boob over the clothes. You were wearing a bra, but you felt his thumb stroking your nipple, which sent another wave of pleasure to your body.

“Bradley I-“ you couldn’t even finish the sentence. You were out of breath from all the movement and from the feeling in your lover tummy.

“I know, baby, keep moving.” His words did as much as his touch to you.

All it took for your orgasm to take over your body was few more rolls of your hips and Bradley’s words of encouragement.

“Fuck!” you moaned as you slowed the movement of your hips to ride yourself through the high and let your head against Bradley’s shoulder.

Bradley kept giving you small kisses on the neck while waiting for you to come back from the pleasure.

But then you realize that it was only you who reached the orgasm and wave of embarrassment took over your body. Not only that, but you just dry humped a man you saw for the third time in his car in a parking lot.

“I’m embarrassed now.” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“Why?” Bradley let out a laugh at your sudden shyness.

“I didn’t plan on tonight ending like this. Now I look like horny teenager that couldn’t hold it in and that cares only about her own pleasure.”

“Look at me,” Bradley gently lifted your head from his shoulder “I don’t think you’re horny teenager who can’t keep it in her pants, I think that was one of the hottest things I ever experienced. Okay?” he felt the need to assure you of that, because it was true. Bradley loves receiving pleasure, but he also loves giving it. And seeing what he does to you and your body with little to no effort makes him crazy for what you will do when he’ll be the one in charge.

“Okay.” You kissed him on the lips. You were still a bit sensitive, but you expected him to want to continue, so you slid your hands down his chest and started unbuckling his belt.

“Wait,” he stopped your hands “as much as I’d love to move this to my place and continue, not tonight hm?”

“Why?” he must’ve seen the look in your eyes, hence why he started reassuring you once more.

“I think you’re fucking sexy okay, you should see yourself now. Lipstick smudged all over your face and messy hair just from dry humping me in the car. I’d love to see how you look after more, but let me take you on a proper date first yeah?”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling like an idiot. This ridiculously attractive man is asking you out on a date first, when he has you in his lap, you asking him to take you to his place for sex. What a dream.

“Okay.”

Being the gentleman he is, he called you a cab and made sure to tell the driver to stop at your house first and wait until you got inside.

You exchanged numbers and he promised to text you details for the date as soon as he makes a plan for the date.

-----

“You had sex!” Travis jumped from the couch when he saw your ‘after sex’ face, he knew.

“Oh god Travis, you scared me.”

“That’s what you get when you go out without me, traitor.” He sent a scoff in your direction “But I want all the details, everything.”

“Okay. I didn’t have sex, that’s everything. Good night.” You send him a kiss goodbye as you made your way towards your room, mentally preparing for the interview you’re going to get in the morning over a cup of coffee.

-----

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