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slytherinslut0 · 11 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Two-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day, during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: very angst. lots of emotions going on here. reader proves herself to the syltherin boys. honestly just a really playful, fun, light chapter.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

In the wake of Mattheo's cutting words, three days had passed--three seemingly endless days since he had slammed the door shut on your attempts to help him, his declaration of your connection being nothing more than a futile endeavour, one destined for ruin once the end of the school year rolled around still ringing in your ears like a haunting melody.

The echo of his harsh words reverberated within your mind, an incessant hologram with no escape, seeping into your thoughts during sleepless nights, intruding upon your attempts to focus on anything else. You weren't sure why those words had cut so fucking deep, because in the moment you'd hardly even flinched, but you couldn't ignore the lingering pain they caused.

And during those agonizing days, an uncomfortable tension settled between the two of you, hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. You took the hint, biting back the words that threatened to spill, choosing silence over confrontation. You trailed after him like a shadow in between classes, keenly aware that any attempt at conversation would only ignite another explosive clash, a battle neither of you felt prepared to wage again so soon.

The memory of your last argument lingered, its toxicity staining the air between you, leaving wounds too deep to heal without acknowledgment and remorse; two things neither of you seemed ready to give, quite yet.

But what really made matters worse, was that both of you were unyielding in your convictions--both of you shamelessly stubborn and unapologetic, neither of you feeling as though you were in the wrong. Mattheo barricaded himself behind walls, lashing out as if you were the enemy, despite your unwavering efforts to assist him--which, in turn, resulted in your pushiness. Your refusal to tolerate his aggression without challenge, became your armor, your way of standing your ground.

Maybe you had been too forceful, perhaps too harsh, but in your eyes, it was a response to the aggression he hurled your way. You couldn't simply let his hostility go unchecked; it was against your nature. And so, the standoff continued, a battle of wills and tempers, leaving both of you entrenched in your own convictions, neither of you willing to admit fault.

But today, you decided you weren't going to hide back anymore. You couldn't allow your stubbornness to completely destroy whatever progress you had made with Mattheo thus far. This was about more than just your pitiful feelings, or whatever emotions you had tied into the situation with that complicated boy. This was about being there for him, wether he wants you to be or not. Showing compassion and patience.

And so, summing newfound determination, you shook off the weight of your own melancholy and sought him out after dinner. Today, he and his group of friends had chosen the serene ambiance by the black lake as their study sanctuary, immersing themselves in the preparation for the upcoming charms exam next week.

Over the past three days, you had gradually grown somewhat acquainted with his friends. While you hadn't quite reached the level of camaraderie, there was a palpable shift in their attitudes towards you, a subtle warmth replacing the earlier distance. This change in dynamics became more evident, especially after the unsettling incident involving Berkshire, who still remained confined to the hospital wing, almost a week later.

With determined resolve, you traversed the courtyard and descended the hill toward the lake, drawing in a steadying breath. Each step echoed your silent promise: to honour Mattheo's boundaries, even if it felt like swallowing shards of glass. The crisp air seemed to echo your determination as you neared the group of Slytherin boys, their laughter and banter carried on the breeze.

Among them, Mattheo sat with his usual nonchalant demeanor, his tousled hair framing his intense eyes. A cigarette dangled effortlessly from his fingers, his bag slumped lazily beside him as he rested stoically against a tall tree, lost in conversation with Malfoy. As you veered closer, his gaze met yours briefly, as though he sensed your presence, the darkness within his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. Beside him, Blaise Zabini's face lit up with anticipation, a welcoming smile playing on his lips as he waved you over.

"Well good evening, little raven...always a pleasure," Blaise grinned, his tone teasing as he made room for you to sit down next to him. "Here to keep an eye on Riddle, are you?"

As you settled into the space between Blaise and Mattheo, the group of boys, including Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, and Regulus Black, welcomed you with light smiles and eager nods.

"Perhaps." You teased, sneaking a glance at Mattheo, his gaze planted on the cigarette between his fingers as he fiddled with it. "Or perhaps I'm here to make sure you lot don't burn down the entire forest during your little 'study session'..."

"Rest assured, we're Hogwarts' best-behaved troublemakers," Draco chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief, a cocky smile playing on his lips. "But if you're worried about the forest, maybe you should stick around...your presence might just be the calming influence we need."

Your blush was undeniable as you smirked, meeting Draco's silver eyes across from Mattheo. He leaned back on his palms as his gaze darted over your features, the top buttons of his uniform shirt undone, exuding an air of effortless confidence.

"I know enough about you, Malfoy, to know that's the furthest thing from the truth," you said, your tone teasing. "But either way, I won't be going anywhere anytime soon...unfortunately for him, Riddle here is stuck with me for a few more weeks."

Blaise chuckled, his voice low and smooth. "Ah, the lucky bloke," he replied, his eyes meeting yours with a smouldering intensity. "If I had my way, you'd find yourself stuck with me, instead...and I assure you, it would be a much more enjoyable experience..."

You quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Oh yes," he teased, his voice a playful melody as he shot Mattheo a knowing wink. "I know all too well the misery of enduring Riddle's icy presence all day; he could freeze a bloody dragon with that demeanor...it's almost cute that you think you'll be able to change him."

The timbre of his voice, a melodic dance of amusement, filled the space around you, and Mattheo's demeanor, once steely and composed, seemed to falter slightly under the weight of Blaise's remarks.

His features tightened, as if grappling with invisible chains, and your own smile, once confident, wavered slightly, betraying the impact of Blaise's words. Swallowing hard, you felt the weight of his teasing remarks settle in the pit of your stomach, a heavy reminder of the argument you and Mattheo had just a few days ago. Despite the discomfort, you summoned your courage, your voice soft yet resolute as you spoke.

"I'm not trying to change him, Blaise," your words hung in the air, delicate and firm, like a fragile thread of understanding. "I'm just here to support him...whenever he's ready to let me."

Your words lingered for a moment, underscoring your unwavering dedication to bolster Mattheo without imposing change upon his core. Although you were directing these words at Blaise, you hoped Mattheo had taken heed of them--as this mentorship, you understood now, was not about altering his identity; it was about assisting him in unraveling the internal struggles, urging him to redirect his anger into positive outlets rather than combatting every perceived threat with physical violence.

Blaise's eyes softened, his usual playful demeanor giving way to a more contemplative expression. He leaned in closer, his gaze scanning your features with a profound curiosity, as if searching for hidden depths within your soul. His voice, now tinged with awe and respect, broke the silence.

"Where have you been all this time, hm? He could have used someone like you years ago..." he murmured, his gaze shifting between you and Mattheo, a glint of intrigue shimmering in his dark eyes. "She must truly be something special for you to willingly sacrifice your freedom for her, Riddle."

"A special pain in my ass, yeah," Mattheo said, his voice seemingly devoid of emotion, a subtle hint of sarcasm lacing his words. As he took a draw of his cigarette, a flicker of annoyance flashed in his eyes, the smoke curling around him like a shield. "Nothing about this arrangement was willingly chosen, Zabini..."

Despite the gravity of his words, a rush of warmth surged within you at Mattheo's candid remark. Amusement sparked in your eyes, a glint of playful defiance as you tried to suppress a smirk that threatened to betray your composure.

"Don't let him fool you, he loves it..." your voice, low and teasing, hung in the air, the words daring and provocative as you shamelessly appraised Mattheo's hardened features. "Isn't that right, Riddle? You know you enjoy being kept on your toes for once..."

Mattheo met your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly, but a flicker of amusement danced in their depths. Your boldness didn't go unnoticed, a silent understanding passing between you amidst the banter. With an air of nonchalance, he raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he brought his cigarette to his mouth once more.

"Yeah, that's what I enjoy," he drawled, his tone dry and drenched in sarcasm. "Being kept on my toes."

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at Mattheo's sneakily playful words, your attempt to conceal your reaction falling short. Your eyes dropped to your lap, a feeble effort to shield your reddening face from the prying eyes around you. The charged words hung thick in the air, every gaze in the circle keenly aware of the subtle shift in dynamics. Before you could even think to react, Theodore Nott's voice, low and teasing, sliced through the tension, his eyes glinting with a playful gleam that hinted at secrets only he knew.

"Careful, Bella Mia..." he cautioned, his words hanging in the space between you, laden with enigmatic warnings. "You'll only get hurt."

Confusion knit your brows, a perplexed frown marring your features as you tried to decipher his cryptic statement.

"What?" you asked, your voice betraying your bewilderment.

"Your smile..." he replied with a knowing smirk, his tone light but filled with subtle implications, "...you look like you're about to fall in love."

The breath caught in your throat, the world around you momentarily blurring as Theodore's unexpected revelation hit you like a tidal wave. The color drained from your cheeks, leaving your face pale, and your heart thudded against your ribs with a fervent urgency, as if pleading for clarity. Flustered and unprepared, you turned your gaze toward Mattheo, seeking solace in his familiar presence.

Nervousness danced in your eyes, a desperate search for reassurance before you stammered out a denial, the words tumbling from your lips in a rush. "Fall...in love? With Mattheo? Sorry, no...no bloody way."

Your words spilled out in a hurried, almost desperate attempt to dispel the implication, yet there was an undeniable tremor in your voice, a subtle quiver that betrayed the unease settling deep within you. Mattheo's eyes met yours, but they held an emptiness, a haunting void that sent a shiver down your spine, something distant flickering within them, making your stomach twist in uneasy knots.

Around you, the group erupted into sneers and light chuckles, their amusement palpable as they sensed your flustered expression. But your attention remained fixated on Mattheo, his silent gaze carrying the weight of Theodore's words, a looming storm cloud hanging over your heads, heavy with unspoken implications.

In love. The notion seemed absurd, impossible even. No, it couldn't be true. There was no way.

"Nott's right, you'll only get hurt..." Malfoy's sneering voice cut through the air, his words laced with a malicious amusement as he cast a sideways glance at Theodore, who snickered in agreement. "You're far too innocent for Riddle... he'd chew you up and spit you out in a second...any of us would..."

He paused, his cold eyes darting from yours to Mattheo's, and back to yours again, as if sizing up the situation. A sly smirk played on his lips, the cruel glint in his eyes sharpening. "Well, perhaps not Notty boy here; he's a little softer."

A surge of heat coursed through your veins, igniting a fierce determination within you that contrasted sharply with the warm, gentle breeze caressing your skin. Despite the pressure weighing heavily upon you and the palpable weight of their expectations hanging in the air, you refused to succumb to their underestimation. With your pulse quickening, you squared your shoulders, locking eyes with Malfoy's cocky gaze.

"You know...I don't believe I'm as fragile as you all seem to think I am," you retorted, words laced with conviction, challenging their perception of you. "I can handle myself just fine."

"Don't let her appearance fool you," Mattheo's words, unexpectedly slicing through the charged atmosphere, nearly startled your heart out of your chest. His voice, dripping with playful irony, reverberated through your limbs as he spoke without even sparing you a glance, his dark hair framing his face and his whiskey eyes meeting Malfoy's with a challenging glint. "That pretty face hides one hell of a devilish mind."

A collective reaction rippled through the group of boys, their eyebrows shooting up in surprise, their smirks growing wider. The implications of Mattheo's remark hung thick in the air, sparking newfound curiosity and amusement that crackled in the atmosphere like electricity. Malfoy seized the opportunity, his smirk taking on a mischievous edge.

"Now you're calling her pretty, Riddle?" he teased, his tone laced with playful skepticism. "Are you sure there's nothing going on between you two? You have been spending a hell of a lot of time together..."

Simultaneously, you both shot back with lightening speed--your words colliding mid-air, overlapping with the others quick response in a chaotic symphony of denial.

"He wishes," you said, your voice carrying a playful edge--while at the same instant, Mattheo sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm and wit. "In her bloody dreams," he said.

Your synchronized responses elicited another round of chuckles from the boys, a shared moment of camaraderie at the expense of you and Mattheo. The tension between the two of you remained, but the exchange had shifted into a playful rhythm, now, the unspoken dynamics between you two sparking curiosity among the others. Malfoy's chuckles gradually faded, replaced by a challenging glint in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling his lips.

"Alright then...little good girl," he drawled, his tone laden with mischief. "Why don't you prove it?"

Your nerves prickled beneath your skin, a rush of anxiety coursing through your veins as you stammered, "Prove...it? Prove what?"

"Prove that you aren't as innocent and fragile as we think you are," he challenged, his words hanging in the air like a dare. "Prove that you're more than just your books and your pushy, smartass attitude."

Nervously, you glanced around the circle at each of the boys, their eyes fixed on you with wide grins of anticipation. The weight of their expectations pressed upon you, and you felt the intensity of the moment, wether you wished to ignore it or not. Mattheo didn't dare to meet your gaze, but you could sense the slight smirk playing on his lips as he casually fiddled with his cigarette. After a long, silent moment, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come.

"Fine, Malfoy," you said, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. "Challenge excepted."

With determination, you pushed off the ground, turning your attention away from the circle and toward the tranquil expanse of the black lake. The challenge had been accepted, and you were ready to prove that there was more to you than met the eye, ready to do whatever the hell you needed to earn their respect in your own damned way.

The boys surrounding you stared in wide-eyed shock as you swiftly shrugged off your uniform jacket, the soft fabric falling carelessly to the grassy ground. With a quick motion, you kicked off your shoes, the blades of grass tickling your feet beneath the fading sunlight--it was dark enough now that if you moved away from them, toward the edge of the lake, and stripped off your skirt and shirt, they wouldn't be able to see too much. Nevertheless, they'd still catch glimpses, and that was precisely the point.

Mattheo, still seated, shot you a puzzled look, his eyes narrowing with sheer confusion and concern.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he questioned, his voice slicing through the stunned silence. The weight of his gaze bore into you, searching for an explanation that might justify your unexpected actions. A surge of confidence pushed you forward, your resolve unwavering.

"I'm going to prove that I'm more than what you all think," you replied, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And that sometimes, good girls do bad things, too."

Theodore Nott, always one to read the room, glanced between you and Mattheo, a sly smile playing on his lips. "This should be interesting," he murmured, his tone laced with amusement. "Salazar save us..."

With a newfound sense of liberation, you descended toward the tranquil lake, the gentle lapping of water against the shore a soothing melody in the background. The soft rustle of the wind caressed your ears, heightening the anticipation that hung thick in the air. As you began to undo the buttons on your uniform blouse, each delicate movement resonated with the weight of the challenge, setting your heart racing in your chest.

With every button that slipped out, the tension in the atmosphere grew palpable, the burning gazes of the captivated boys etched into your flesh. The fabric of your blouse glided off your shoulders, landing gracefully on the grass like a discarded shield at your feet. Standing there, clad in nothing but your bra and skirt, you felt a heady mix of exhilaration and vulnerability wash over you.

As the cool evening air enveloped your skin, you sensed a presence behind you. Slowly, you peeked over your shoulder to find Mattheo sprinting toward you, his brows furrowed in disbelief and his eyes widened in pure shock. He came to a halt just a few feet away, his voice laden with a mixture of astonishment and genuine concern.

"Have you lost your bloody mind?" he exclaimed, his words a sharp contrast to the stunned silence that had fallen over the group. "You're going to fucking freeze..."

His gaze flickered over you, a kaleidoscope of emotions playing in his eyes, the dominant one undeniably being shock, tinged with a hint of something else--something unspoken and complex. Under the intensity of his stare, you felt a rush of warmth suffuse your skin, a bold defiance kindling within you as your hands moved to the band of your skirt. With deliberate slowness, you teased the length of its waist, holding his eyes captive in a daring challenge.

"What's the matter, Riddle?" you purred, savoring the power in the moment, knowing he couldn't physically intervene in front of his friends without arousing suspicion. "Are you truly worried about me?" Your voice dropped into a low, nearly inaudible whisper as your smirk deepened, relishing the way his eyes tracked your hands. "Or...perhaps...you're just unable to handle other men looking at your property..."

Mattheo's frustration was palpable, his brows furrowing as he struggled to maintain his composure. Yet, beneath the annoyance, there was a glimmer of amusement, a reluctant acknowledgment of your audacity.

"You're playing with fire, again, aren't you?" he muttered, his tone a blend of exasperation and begrudging amusement. A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a hint of admiration for your boldness despite the irritation simmering beneath the surface. "Just be careful you don't get burned."

"Oh, please," you retorted, unable to contain your smirk, the confidence in your voice echoing your daring spirit. "Witches don't burn."

With a swift, decisive motion, you cast your skirt aside, the fabric pooling on the grass as you dashed toward the lake with unbridled determination. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, dulling the edge of the initial shock as you plunged into the cold water. A sharp gasp cut through the night as the icy embrace of the lake stole your breath away, the shock of the temperature quickly giving way to exhilaration. In the background, the boys erupted into cheers and hollers, their admiration for your audacious leap resonating in the crisp evening air like a chorus of approval.

Meanwhile, at the shore, Mattheo stood half-stunned, his eyes widening in surprise before that sly smirk slowly crept back onto his face. He watched you with a mix of amusement and something else, something that look almost like an undeniable respect for your audacity. His fingers absently toyed with his cigarette as he observed your fearless actions, his usual stoic demeanor momentarily shattered by your bold act.

From the water, you observed the boys exchanging glances, their smirks hinting at a shared understanding that transcended words. With an unspoken agreement, they shrugged in unison, a collective "fuck it" echoing through the air. One by one, they rose to their feet, shedding their uniforms with carefree abandon until they stood just as exposed as you were. Their toned bodies glistened under the evening sky, the moonlight filtering through the clouds, casting a silvery glow upon their skin.

With lively laughter echoing through the night air, the boys sprinted toward you, their infectious excitement palpable even from a distance. They effortlessly brushed past Mattheo, who stood frozen in place, his expression a mosaic of shock and amusement, his eyes tracking each of his friends as they leaped into the water alongside you. As the cold water embraced them, the boys couldn't help but groan in unison, their playful complaints filling the air.

"Bloody hell, it's freezing..." Reggie exclaimed, eliciting chuckles from the others. “How the fuck did I think this was a good idea…”

Amidst the banter, they turned their attention to you, their expressions a blend of awe and admiration.

"You've definitely surprised us, little bird," Theodore teased, his tone laced with genuine respect. "Making this look so easy, aren't you?"

Malfoy's voice echoed with a mix of amusement and challenge as he shouted across the water to Mattheo.

"Riddle, don't be a killjoy," he taunted, a playful glint in his eyes. "I know you can't resist a good challenge...you're really going to let little raven here outshine you like this?”

The words hung in the air, a tempting dare that Mattheo couldn't ignore. He stood at the water's edge, his expression a mixture of hesitation and a playful grumbling--clearly debating whether to join the revelry or stay put. You grinned as you watched, his face sporting a resigned yet amused expression, as he finally succumbed, muttering under his breath as he peeled off his uniform with deliberate slowness.

"You guys are bloody mad," he grumbled as he folded his clothes neatly on the shore, his movements deliberate and slightly begrudging. "If we catch hypothermia, Raven, I'm blaming you."

Finally, with a sarcastic salute and a roll of his eyes, he took a deep breath and dove into the water, his entry marked by a splash that mirrored the energy and excitement of the night, everyone erupting into laughter at his little display. Mattheo waded over, his playful irritation evident in the way he shot you a mock glare before unleashing a playful splash, water droplets scattering in all directions.

"Mattheo!" You squealed, wiping the water from your face. "You bloody arse!"

His eyes twinkled with mischief, and he couldn't help but smirk as you retaliated, sending a splash of water right back at him. The tension from earlier had transformed into a playful energy, the group now engaged in a water fight, laughter filling the air as splashes and giggles and squeals intermingled.

Before you knew it, everyone was caught up in the spirited frenzy, water splashing in every direction as the boys chased each other, their playful shouts and laughter blending harmoniously. Mattheo, who had initially been the reluctant participant, seemed to revel in the chaos, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he retaliated with gusto, no longer holding back.

As the water fight intensified, you noticed Mattheo momentarily distracted, his attention diverted by the antics of the other boys. Seizing the opportunity, you discreetly gathered a handful of mud from the lakebed, forming it into a small, compact ball. With careful precision, you approached him from behind, your steps silent in the water, and with a swift motion, you lobbed the mud ball, aiming for Mattheo's shoulder.

The ball hit its mark perfectly, leaving a satisfying splatter of mud on his skin, the boys erupting into laughter, thoroughly entertained by your clever move. However, turning around, Mattheo's eyes widened in exaggerated shock, his voice tinged with playful hurt.

"Did you just fucking ambush me? In front of my own men?" he exclaimed, his tone laced with feigned betrayal as he theatrically wiped the mud off his skin. “You’re real fucking bold, aren’t you, Raven?”

You snickered, grinning at the fact you’d caught him off guard like that. “You know what they say…never drop your guard, Mattheo…”

A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes as he casually glanced over your shoulder, spotting Theodore wading in the water behind you and Malfoy standing just a bit to your side. A subtle shift occurred in Mattheo's demeanor, a silent understanding passing between him, Theodore, and Malfoy. Their eyes exchanged a knowing look, a shared sense of mischief darkening their expressions. Mattheo's voice, once filled with mock hurt, now dripped with wicked amusement as he issued his command.

"Grab her, boys," he ordered, his voice taking on a sinister edge, setting the stage for the impeding revenge. "Time to show the little bird what happens when you mess with a bunch of venomous snakes."

Excitement surged through your veins, a thrilling concoction of adrenaline and laughter, as you attempted to evade their grasp. Your heart raced, the pounding in your chest echoing the playful chaos around you. Despite your best efforts, Theodore's fingers wrapped firmly around your arm, and Malfoy's grip held your other, their strength ensuring your playful struggles were in vain.

“Come on, Mattheo!” You squirmed and giggled, a delightful blend of resistance and amusement, as you found yourself caught in their playful trap. “I’m sorry, please…”

Mattheo, his confidence soaring now that you were being successfully restrained, seized a hefty clump of mud, his fingers sinking into its cool, squishy texture. As he spun back around, his eyes locked onto yours, and with deliberate measured steps, he closed the distance between you, his movements exuding a cocky swagger that only intensified your anxiety.

"Any last words, Raven?" he taunted, his voice dripping with playful malice, the echoes of your impending fate resonating in the air like a looming storm. "If you wish to pathetically apologize for that ignorant display, now is the time to do so."

"Mattheo, please!" Desperation and regret flooded your voice, your pleas tumbling out in a desperate rush, mingling with the tension that hung heavy in the air. "I'm so sorry, please don't--I didn't mean to-"

But Mattheo merely shook his head, a triumphant smirk curving his lips, dismissing your words with a casual flick of his hand.

"Actually, just decided it's too late for ass-kissing now, princess," he sneered, his words cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "Brace yourself."

With a swift motion, he hurled the mud at you, the clump splattering against your chest. Laughter erupted from the boys, their camaraderie deepening in the chaos of the moment. And you, caught in their playful trap, couldn't help but join in the laughter, realizing that the evening had taken an unexpected turn, transforming into a memorable, joyous escapade under the moonlit sky.

As the boys finally released their grip, laughter still lingering in the air, Mattheo met your eyes, his gaze dipping over your mud-splattered form with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

Grumbling, you couldn't resist a playful jab, "You're such an ass."

His chuckle transformed into a self-assured grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Guilty as charged," he admitted, his voice teasing. "But you have to admit, it was worth it for that look on your face."

You let out a reluctant chuckle, realizing the absurdity of the situation. "Fine, you win this round," you conceded, unable to suppress a smile. "But don't get too comfortable; next time I'm bringing everything I got."

"I'm counting on it," Mattheo replied with a grin, a spark of anticipation in his eyes, acknowledging the challenge you had just thrown his way. “Wouldn’t be normal for you if you didn’t.”

After a little bit longer, the group of you finally emerged from the water, the stars twinkling overhead like diamonds scattered across the night sky. Laughter and playful groans of annoyance filled the air as you all struggled to peel your clothes back on, the urgency to get back to the castle evident in the chilly breeze that swept through the night.

With clothes clinging damply to your skin, you all made your way back, sharing stories and laughter along the path. The atmosphere was light, the shared escapade having created a bond among you, making the cold night feel a little warmer. As you approached the castle, a sense of accomplishment and newfound friendship enveloped the group, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill at the unexpected turn the night had taken, leaving you with a memory of an exhilarating adventure under the starlit sky.

—————————-

Chapter 23->

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14thgalerie · 8 months

Text

under pressure

• pairing: theodore nott x reader

• now playing: linger by the cranberries

• word count: 2.4k

• genre: angst

— an old piece that i never finished but i just wanted to post something because my account is so dead. i know exams work differently in hogwarts but for this one, let's just pretend that they do a semestral exam also.

“Theo?” You call from behind him, as you enter the common room where he sits in solitude.

He makes no sound to acknowledge that he’s heard you, simply continuing to stare off into space. Long, slender fingers rhythmically tapping on his thighs.

Ignoring this, you make yourself comfortable on the nearest available seat, angling your body to face him. “You would not believe what I got for History of Magic!” You excitedly begin and with much enthusiasm, “But first you have to guess!”

Again, a silence greets you. This sparks concern in you since it was very unusual behaviour from him. But before you could ask, he emits a curious hum, still not looking directly at you. “What did you get?”

“You’re no fun.” You playfully jab at him, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. “Anyways! I got an Outstanding! Can you believe that?”

“It would’ve been hilarious if you hadn’t.” Is all he says in a deadpan, hollow voice. “What do you mean by that?” You prod.

“Imagine taking all of my time just for you to fail once again. I would have actually thrown myself off the pitch. ”

The muted glow of the scattered lamps and candles cast shadows on the walls, creating an ambiance that mirrors the strained emotions between you and Theo. The distant sound of chatter and laughter in the dorm rooms only served to accentuate the silence that ensued.

He sighs, “I am tired. Tired of your complaining, of your whines, of your stupidity over such a simple course. You are so excited over this when it isn’t something to be necessarily proud of. You know…” Theo trails off in an amused manner as if he has realised something funny.

“I find it funny how you are sitting all proud and excited about this one exam when in reality, it was all because of me. You wouldn’t have even gotten half of what you had if it weren't for me or with the help of the others. Leeching off of us like a goddamn parasite who hasn’t a mind of her own.”

Words fail you, unable to conjure up even a whisper in your shock. You stand up slowly, breathing out an unsteady exhale.

The words break on your skin like whips, cracking and splitting open still healing wounds.

“I have never asked you for anything, need I remind you? You were the one who insisted on spending your oh so precious time teaching me. Time and time again, I reassured you that I could do it myself because I didn’t want you to waste it on me. Yet, it was always fine with you and you were adamant on doing it so don’t you dare put this on me now.” You grit out. “I have no idea as to why you are acting like a rabid dog, snapping at me unprovoked, but nothing will ever warrant that kind of behaviour. “ You shake your head sharply, glaring at him from underneath your eyebrow.

You felt yourself becoming dizzy with panic and anxiety, confusion with the whole situation making it worse by the second. It was spreading so quickly and far into the recesses of your soul that you would fall to your knees if not for the support of the couch behind you.

Not willing to have him see you break down from his nonchalant words that were deliberately chosen to attack your deepest insecurities— unable to understand how it so easily came from the last person you expected it from. You quickly move towards the stairs, ignoring the weak call of your name.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Seconds—or was it minutes— slipped away since you have made the decision to lock yourself in your room. Leaving the room before everything gets worse. Surrounding yourself with a number of inked parchments that are filled with hundreds of thousands of words, none of which your brain registers. Despite your earnest desire to find solace with work, it was all futile as they were only mere words on paper that held no significance in comparison to what was brewing in your mind.

Instead, an incessant question pesters you. Was it really something to be so excited over? Lost in a silent deep rumination, accompanied only by the rhythmic flutter of an owl's wings as they flew past your open window and the rustling trees to occupy the silence.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The clock is still there to remind me of the hours that have passed— 3 and a quarter to be precise.

Perhaps you were being too over the top but you hadn’t meant to. The pure, unadulterated exhilaration overwhelmed you after Professor Binns called you aside after your last exam. It had become an accepted knowledge to you that History of Magic wasn’t necessarily your strongest suit. Enough so that it would’ve been perfectly fine for you to receive a less-than-average result.

To hear how exceptional you had done this time, possibly even greater than many of your classmates, your mind instinctively went to share your achievement with Theo. After all, he was the one who patiently dedicated hours guiding you in your review and it took precedence over his own. Assurances, that came off as more of arrogance, of how he would do just fine and that he could ace it even if he wore a blindfold.

Maybe that’s where it all went wrong. Could it have been the lack of sleep before? He does get a bit irritable with a lack of rest. You’ve seen it personally in the weeks that lead up to Quidditch games. The fatigue, in addition to the stress of the final exams before the holidays, must’ve steered him into that state.

Despite feeling upset and somewhat finding fault within yourself, you couldn’t muster up the will to apologise first. While his behaviour tonight could have been explainable, for goodness’ sake, the way that he has gone about it was unwarranted— shouting and hurling the harshest words that he is capable of, at you. The person that rejected every offer, made by him, because you were scared to impose on his studying hours. Now he cannot even be happy at what you had worked so dedicatedly on with him?

After spending hours in the cold and dark room, doing nothing but ruminating on the argument, you realise that you refuse to allow his words to dampen your joy and excitement any more than they have already. Sitting up straight, you stretch your arms wide. Swiftly tidying the scattered papers and dried pens into an acceptable arrangement in your trunk before you settle down beneath your duvet cover. Giving up on the idea of getting any work done when your mind was elsewhere.

The both of you made plans to have a sleepover in your dorm room after your roommates announced that they would be spending the night elsewhere. However, it will be safe to say that the idea had crumbled into non-existence after the heated exchange of words between the two of you.

As you lay there on your side, facing the stone wall with your back to the door, you couldn’t help but reflect on your argument. A hailing storm brewed in the furrows of your mind, unable to piece together what exactly you should do. The only thing you wanted was to hear his beating heart beneath you as you lay on his chest. But you knew that it wouldn’t be right for yourself to concede.

Of all the ways that you’ve imagined for him to react, what had truly occurred did not even appear in your mind. It left you tossing and turning in frustration and confusion, unable to fall asleep in peace. Only the warmth and lasting scent of his cologne on your duvet keep you calm— the realisation that you couldn’t even properly be mad at him makes you huff.

In the silent war within you, you were deaf to the aged door groaning in protest as its rusty hinges emitted a creaking sound that left the person behind it wincing. Nor did you hear the unusually gentle footsteps that followed.

So much so that even the shadows that lurked within the walls would have thought that the footsteps were a figment of their imagination. In the way that the presence hesitated outside of your room as if they were heavily contemplating.

It was only at the weighted dip of the bed behind you and the hesitant arm that crept around your waist that were you pulled from your trance. Yet, you bore no intent of recognition for him even as he had fully suited himself behind you with his chin tucked in the crook of your neck.

As his presence enveloped you, he began with a slight tremor in his voice. “Y/N…I-“

“I could write and speak a thousand sorry’s and reasons for why the words had so easily slipped from my lips, but they will never unspeak them from existence. I promised your mama that I will never let a speck of hurt flash across those eyes, and I will forever apologise to her for breaking that promise.” A shaky exhale lines the last few syllables. “I was so unnecessarily horrible and mean to you without meaning to. So consumed by this- this emotion that flooded me, something that I had lost control over.”

Every syllable was accompanied by a hesitant tone that left the words sounding shaky; nervous. Coupled with the drop of tears that lined your neck right where his head sat.

You listened, listening to his apology, but the wounds were still fresh. The echo of his sharp words runs deep beneath your skin, embedded into your bones, prickling with every second you are reminded of them. The sincerity in his voice clashed with the pain he had caused with his words, leaving you torn between the desire to understand and the reluctance to let go of the hurt.

“You really hurt my feelings, Theo.” If he wasn’t already drowning in misery, hearing his name fall from your lips after he worked many weeks to be called something else had him gasping for breath. “I genuinely want to forgive you, but at this moment, I can’t quite find it in me to do so. You blew up on me for absolutely no reason. I need you to help me understand, to give me a reason behind your outburst, not mere words of guilt. Because even if you say sorry a thousand times, I would never be able to forgive you for clearly attacking me where I would greatly feel it.

His voice, meek in the tense air between the two of you, unfolded with a raw honesty that lays bare his desperation for this to be over.

“The exhaustion from lack of sleep and finding that I barely got a passing grade…It was a bit too much for me. I have no idea why it even bothered me when, for so long, I could hardly give a damn about these stupid exams," he shared, sighing with exasperation.

A pang of guilt and shame flared within your chest at the knowledge. The initial shadow of hesitation and guilt that crept on you the days before came rushing back in. You should’ve known better than to allow him to persuade you. Turning around on the bed to face him. But before you could wallow yourself in these emotions, Theo quickly puts your mind to rest.

“Don’t blame yourself, darling.” He tenderly pushes a thumb against the forming frown on your forehead. “I should have told you that I needed to study also instead of leaving it to luck. I guess I was being a bit of a confident prick that got used to not reviewing for an exam that I fully forgot I missed a few lectures a few weeks ago. I truthfully never had and never will blame you, not when I had been the one, adamant enough, to help you out despite your protests.”

His admission carried a mix of self-awareness and remorse. The vulnerability that was clear in his words began to bridge the hesitance inside of you to relax, the layers of miscommunication slowly peeling away.

You could sense the weight he carried. Despite his casual indifference to his studies, you knew that it was something that he silently prided himself in. To have that be ruined in addition to the cumulative stress that built up over time with his hectic schedule. Being reminded that even if he may seem so perfect on the surface, beneath that, he was still human; flawed, vulnerable, and young. Although the hurt had begun to shift, not fully dissipating yet, it had turned into a sense of empathy that allowed you a clarity of thinking.

A small, understanding hum escaped you. The strain in your voice is gone now, ”We need to work on our communication, then. No longer hiding things from each other for any reason, even if we think it does not matter. Part of our relationship is to work our problems side by side, even if it doesn’t concern the other. We shouldn’t have things fester until it explodes on us.”

He nods, burying his head back into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” You gently pull his head back and look at him fondly. “And we need to also address the way you spoke to me earlier. Just because we were in the heat of the moment and lost in our emotions does not mean you have the right to do that, not when my mom raised me without raising her voice.”

“I’m really sorry. Merlin…I can still see the look on your face and I don’t think I would ever forget and forgive myself for being the reason behind it”. “I won’t say I forgive you just yet, that’s a boundary crossed for me. We should’ve had this talk in the beginning but better now than never. Let’s take a pause for now, and resume this conversation with a clear head.” He met your gaze with a blend of appreciation and a sense of resolve.

masterlist

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #slytherin #theodore nott oneshot

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witchboxco · 8 months

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Imbolc Altar Ideas & Correspondences

Imbolc, also known as Candlemas or Brigid's Day, marks the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It's a time to celebrate the returning light and the awakening of the Earth.

Altar Decorations:

Candles: Imbolc is strongly associated with the element of fire. Decorate your altar with candles in shades of white, yellow, and light blue to represent the increasing daylight.

Brigid's Cross: Craft or purchase a Brigid's Cross, a traditional symbol associated with the Celtic goddess Brigid. Hang it on your altar as a protective charm.

Seasonal Flowers: Place early spring flowers like snowdrops, crocuses, and daffodils on your altar. These symbolize the first signs of life returning to the land.

Herbs: Incorporate herbs such as rosemary, thyme, and cinnamon for their purifying and invigorating properties. Bundle them together with a red or white ribbon.

Seeds: Represent the potential for growth by adding a dish of seeds to your altar. Consider seeds associated with early spring crops like wheat or herbs.

Imbolc Symbols: Include symbols like lambs, ewes, and the sun to capture the essence of this seasonal transition.

Candle Holders: Choose unique candle holders or lanterns to enhance the ambiance. Consider using candle holders in the shape of suns, stars, or nature-inspired designs.

Divination Tools: Add divination tools like tarot cards or runes to your altar for seeking guidance during this transitional period.

Symbolic Stones: Integrate crystals such as citrine for abundance, aquamarine for clarity, and moonstone for intuition. Arrange them aesthetically around your altar.

Feathers: Symbolizing air and spirituality, feathers can be incorporated to invoke the energy of the season. Choose feathers from birds associated with the goddess Brigid, like swans or owls.

Artwork: Display artwork or illustrations that resonate with the themes of Imbolc. This could include depictions of Brigid, snow-covered landscapes, or symbols of growth and renewal.

Imbolc Incense: Craft or purchase incense blends with scents like frankincense, myrrh, and chamomile to fill your sacred space with a soothing and purifying aroma.

Correspondences

Goddess Brigid: Imbolc is sacred to Brigid, the Celtic goddess of hearth, home, and inspiration. Invoke her energy for healing, creativity, and protection.

Colors: White, yellow, light green, and light blue are associated with Imbolc. Use these colors in candles, altar cloths, and decorations to align with the festival's energy.

Stones: Crystals such as amethyst, garnet, and clear quartz resonate with Imbolc's energies.

Foods: Dairy products, especially cheese, and foods made with seeds like bread or muffins are fitting for Imbolc. Set offerings on your altar or incorporate them into your celebration feast.

Water: Imbolc is also associated with the element of water. Include a small bowl of water on your altar to symbolize purification.

Creativity Symbols: Imbolc is a time for inspiration and creative endeavors. Include symbols of your creative pursuits, such as a paintbrush, musical instrument, or writing quill.

Anointing Oils: Create or purchase anointing oils infused with herbs like lavender, rosemary, and frankincense. Use them to anoint candles, tools, or yourself during Imbolc rituals.

Animal Representations: Incorporate figurines or images of animals associated with Brigid, such as lambs, cows, or swans, to honor her connection to the animal kingdom.

Wheat or Corn Dolls: Craft small dolls from wheat or corn husks, symbolizing the harvest to come. Place them on your altar as a representation of the Earth's fertility.

Bell or Chimes: Hang a bell or wind chimes near your altar to symbolize the awakening of nature and the stirring of life. Ring it during your Imbolc rituals to mark significant moments.

Decorative Cloth: Choose an altar cloth with intricate patterns or symbols related to Imbolc, such as suns, wheels, or Brigid's crosses, to add a touch of magic to your sacred space.

May you find warmth in the returning light. <3

#pagan #witchcraft #paganism #witch #occult #wicca #dark #magick #neopagan #wiccan #imbolc #february #witchblr #imbolg #brigid of kildare #goddess brigid #st brigid

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demaparbat-hp · 7 months

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Love your work!! Would you ever do a what-if scenario? Like what if Zuko and Katara kissed in the catacombs? Or what if they shared a moment during the Southern Raiders? Or I always love to imagine a headcanon where Zuko and Katara get married and Oma and Shu happily watching them aka their reincarnation in the background ambiance or from the spirit world or something.

Sorry if I'm rambling but I'm just throwing out some suggestions if you want some ideas for Zutara art. Please know that you don't have to take my suggestions or even do ZK art. Do whatever art you like and we'll always support!!!! You're honestly so talented and we love everything you do!!!!

Most of my AUs are what ifs scenarios! What if Kanna ended up in the Earth Kingdom instead of the Southern Water Tribe, and Katara was Hakoda's illegitimate daughter? What if Ozai sent an assassin after Zuko at the start of s2? What if Katara healed her hands when Aang burned her, but couldn't keep them from scarring? Canon divergences are so fun to play with, honestly.

Also, about the Oma & Shu AU, I've been working on a little something with that idea in mind for ages, and thought I'd share a WIP :)

#dema answers #atla #zutara #omashu #zuko #avatar the last airbender #katara #atla fanart #zutara fanart #Wip

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dirtysvthoughts · 7 months

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𝙗𝙖𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣! [1𝗄 𝖼𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇]

synopsis: you and your boyfriend have been working nonstop. performances on his end and endless meetings on yours. when you both finally get a break, he proposes you two get away for a few days. little do the both of you know that this “baecation” will provide physical, emotional, and sexual healing.

general tags/warnings: smut, pwp, female! reader, boyfriend! chan, non-idol! chan (professional dancer! chan), vacation/baecation getaway, lots of teasing, lots of dirty talk, lingerie on reader, hotel room sex, balcony sex, pool sex, basically chan and reader are just horny lovebirds

notes: WOW BESTIES 1 FREAKING THOUSAND OF YOU HERE AT DIRTYSVTHOUGHTS!! 🥹 never did i ever think this account would grow this much, but you all made it possible! thanks for reading, liking, reblogging, sending in asks, and everything in between! i hope you enjoy this *slight* self-indulgent work! oh to be fucked by boyfriend chan in a dimly-lit hotel room with rose petals..

———

this work will be released in three parts (w/ an epilogue) !

pt. 1 - the destination

pt. 2 - the arrival

pt. 3 - the heated night & the morning after

———

if you want to be added to this work’s taglist, please fill out this google form here!

———

teaser (547 words) - thank you to @wooahaeproductions for beta reading!:

you can’t help but stare in (happy) shock as your eyes take in the sight before you, after chan removes his hands from your eyes. there were rose petals scattered across the floor and your bed and champagne chilled in an ice bucket. the dim lights created a sexy ambiance with the last bits of sunlight dimming over the horizon - the large, wide glass windows casting the most beautiful view that you would never forget.

chan stands behind you, rubbing your hips as he hold you by your waist, his smile forming against the shell of your ear as he kisses it, and laughing as he gently sways you side to side. your body is engulfed in his, the warm, familiar sensation of his embrace pleasantly taking over your body.

“chan, what’s all this?” you asked amazed, especially at how much he put into this setup.

“this,” he whispers kissing your temple, “is for you. you’ve been working so hard baby, and now it’s time for you to be rewarded.” you look into his eyes as he holds your jaw, fingers delicately adorning your face. there was something in the air uniting your both - was it love? sincerity? adoration? whatever it was, nothing else mattered in the world right now except you two.

“i love you so much, baby,” he kisses your nose softly. “i know this isn’t a lot, but-”

you silence him with a deep kiss and you turn your body forward so your hands could hold the nape of his neck. your tongues dance together in passion as chan pulls you even closer, bodies and the room temperature heating up with your intensity.

you pause and separate momentarily, ragged breaths filling the space. “chan.. this is more than enough,” you sigh lovingly. “we could’ve stayed at home and i would’ve been more than happy - just being with you is all i need.” you can feel your eyes starting well with tears but you try your best to hold them back.

“i love you so much, chan.”

this time, he starts another passionate kiss. he reaffirms his hands on your waist as he places open mouth kisses on your lips. he walks both you towards the bed and unties the robe you had on, revealing the sheer black rose-decorated lingerie set and garter on your body.

chan whistles as he takes in the sight of you, stunning as ever. “shit,” he whispers, “all dressed up for me like the pretty girl you are..”

you smile as you bring his hand for your waist to your chest, letting chan feel you up as your bite your lip and whimper, his soft hands causing your nipples to perk up. you’re close enough now that the back of your knees hit the edge of your bed. he gently lays you down and climbs on top of you as he kisses your neck. his long fingers toy with your panty line, the motions sending shivers down your spine.

“mmmm, my channie,” you moan out blissfully as his fingers begin to enter your dripping core. “more, please give me more,” you whine out as he continues to press his lips against your body, wetness continuing to gush from inside you as his lips move down your body.

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austinbutlerslovers · 7 days

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Benny Cross the Bikeriders Fantasy Part 6 Finale

Label Mature 18+

Chapter 6 For Keeps 🔗Chapter 1 🔗Chapter 2 🔗Chapter 3 🔗Chapter 4 🔗Chapter 5

🔗 Master List

Summary With every thing stripped from Benny he begins to understand what he really wants out of life and after a fateful turn of events putting your safety at risk finalizes his decision changing both of your lives forever.

♠️ Passionate Smut ♠️ Edging • claiming •oral on female• sexual teasing •mutual mastrubation • pinning •mating press •breeding kink• clit stimulation•nipple play •breast play • rough sex • multiple orgasms •multiple cream pies

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 🫦 Smut Consultant @burnthheparaphilia

Heavily Inspired by the Bikeriders Movie Mentions of death ☠️ attempted violation of female💥

🏍️ Inspo: anonymous requests combined •The ‘red dress’ scene (but Bennys there) •Benny desperately wants to get you pregnant •Benny protective over you •The ‘fight scene’ with angry sex •Happy ending for Benny

For Keeps

The day of the Vandals picnic arrives and when you and Benny ride in the scene is a far cry from the gatherings you remember.

The atmosphere is pure chaos, loud music pulses through the air with everyone heavily intoxicated, the usual beers replaced by hard liquor and hooch. Scantily clad women mingle through the crowd, their presence heightening the already rowdy energy. The heavy scent of marijuana blends with the roar of motorcycles, amplifying the wild unruly ambiance.

As you and Benny pull up, the bikers erupt into cheers and chants, their voices ringing with excitement. “Benny’s back!” some shout, their enthusiasm undeniable “The legend lives on!” Cal yells enthusiastically, his voice cutting through the cheers of the group.

As Benny dismounts the motorcycle, he can’t help but smile, his face lighting up with a mixture of relief and exhilaration. The warm reception from the Vandals fills him with a sense of belonging and joy.

After you dismount, Benny carefully retrieves his crutch from where he’s welded a custom piece to fit his bike. With you by his side, he steadies himself on the crutch and makes his way toward the group of Vandals gathered at a table, with Johnny and Brusy seated front and center.

Johnny’s eyes fall to Benny’s cast and crutch as he approaches. “You rode all the way in on that?” Johnny asks, a note of surprise and teasing in his voice.

“Yeah, I just strapped it to the bike,” Benny replies with a weary sigh, the strain of riding with a broken ankle evident in his expression.

You interject with a hint of frustration in your voice. “He needs all of this because his ankle is still healing, Johnny,” you say, your words edged with anger from your unresolved argument about Benny.

You side eye Johnny before spotting Betty, Donna, and Gail waving you down in the distance. Turning to Benny with a loving smile, you cup his jaw and press a big, lingering kiss to his cheek. “You need anything, you let me know,” you say sweetly and as you step back, you see the glimmer of appreciation in Benny’s eyes as he watches you depart, a dreamy smile on his lips.

You know how much Benny cherishes his time with the Vandals, and despite your unease of him remaining in the club, you leave him to reconnect with his friends.

As you sit with the old ladies, you watch in disbelief as the new chapters of Vandals revel in the chaos of drinking, fighting, and wild behavior.

The club scene has transformed into a display of menacing bikers. There are more fights, louder arguments, and public displays of fornication than you’ve ever witnessed in your life. The atmosphere is filled with the raw energy of unbridled menace, making the whole scene feel oppressive.

Benny finds you a short time later and sits down at the picnic table, resting his crutch beside him. He listens to you recount the tales of how he’s recovering and how much better he’s doing to the group of gathered ladies. He looks over at you fondly, enjoying your company and wanting to be by your side more than he does with the members of the club that he can no longer keep up with as they dance and drink and shout and run wild.

As nightfall descends, the groups spread out around various campfires, a long standing Vandal tradition. The main Vandals gather closely, with Zipco regaling the members with wild stories, his voice rising above the crackling flames.

The men settle into a variety of spots, some perched on weathered logs, others lounging in mismatched chairs, and a few simply sitting cross-legged on the ground.

The fire casts a warm, flickering glow over the scene, illuminating their faces as they listen and laugh, wrapped in the camaraderie of the night.

You and Benny sit on chairs leaning against each other as he absently runs his fingers over your hand and the tender gesture makes you smile. When he steals the occasional glances at you with his eyes filled with love, it deepens your smile even more.

Across the fire, Johnny watches the two of you from his seat. Betty perched comfortably on his lap. His gaze is on Benny, distracted from Zipco's animated storytelling, his mind drifting to a decision he made long ago that needs to be addressed tonight.

Johnny nudges Betty gently before rising abruptly, drawing everyone’s attention away from Zipco’s tale. He looks over the group, before nodding to Benny and gesturing for him to follow.

Benny rises slowly, gently squeezing your hand for reassurance as he balances on one foot. You hand him his crutch ensuring he’s steady with a tender touch before he heads off.

Johnny leads Benny a short distance away from the group, guiding him towards their bikes. Benny rests his crutch on a piece of fence, using it for support as he steadies himself. The night is dark with only a park lamp casting a soft, yellow glow over them.

“Means a lot you coming out here all banged up like that,” Johnny says pointing at his cast while Benny lights up his cigarette.

“I’ve been thinking,” Johnny continues, “I can’t run this club forever. I’m gonna have to find somebody to…” He pauses, his eyes meeting Benny’s, “to take it over.”

Benny exhales a cloud of smoke. “What about Brusy?” he asks.

Johnny shakes his head, placing a hand on his bike. “I love Brusy like a brother,” he says, his voice firm, “but it ain’t Brusy.”

Benny exhales his smoke again as Johnny adds, “Brusy will get eaten alive by these guys.”

Johnny trails his hand along his bike and looks Benny in the eyes. “It’s gotta be somebody that…” He searches Bennys eyes, “they respect. It’s gotta be somebody that ain’t gonna take no shit from ‘em.”

A silence falls as Johnny and Benny look toward the campfire where the bikers are gathered.

“It’s you,” Johnny finally says.

Benny looks at Johnny, chuckling softly as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“C’mon,” Benny says cracking a smile, thinking Johnny isn’t serious.

Johnny’s gaze is unwavering as he stands up from his bike, walking over so close to Benny that it’s intimidating. Johnny’s eyes bore into Benny with an intensity that is unsettling.

“Look, I built this club out of nothing,” Johnny says, stepping even closer gesturing with his hand. “I put more into this fucking club than my own family. This is my family,” he insists.

Benny looks at Johnny with newfound understanding, seeing the concern in Johnny’s eyes.

“Y’know, I don’t know how many fucking chapters we got now. We’ve got old guys, new guys, young guys—most of the new ones I don’t know. But the guys I do know, they ain’t gonna follow anybody except somebody who can hold their own.”

Johnny’s eyes are almost desperate as they lock onto Benny.

Benny quickly looks down, avoiding Johnny’s intense gaze.

“Look at me,” Johnny demands. Benny hesitates before finally meeting his eyes, a flicker of resignation showing.

After a tense moment Benny breaks the silence.

“I’m all fucked up,” Benny answers, gesturing to his cast. “And my girl is the one paying my fucking dues,” he confesses with vulnerability.

Johnny’s scoffs as Benny takes a long drag from his cigarette.

Benny exhales a cloud of smoke with a sigh, turning his head away as he speaks. “You’re a grown man,” he says, before meeting Johnny’s intense gaze.“You’ve got a house, you’ve got a job. I don’t want that. I never cared about any of that.”

Johnny’s face turns serious as he taps Benny’s vest, right on his Vandals biker patch.

“That’s why it’s you,” Johnny says. “All these guys in here, they’re all trying to be you. You see?” he asks, looking Benny deeply in the eyes.

Benny looks off into the distance, seeing you quietly by the campfire, the soft glow of the flames illuminating your beautiful face. His heart aches with the weight of the decision before him. “Johnny…” he begins with hesitation.

But Johnny gets in so close he’s inches from Benny’s face, and Benny can feel his breath as Johnny says, “It’s yours,” his voice low but firm, each word carrying a heavy significance. Benny meets Johnny’s intense gaze, the silence between them tense with unspoken words.

Seeing the extreme conflict in Benny’s eyes, Johnny softens his resolve slightly and finally turns away.

“Hey, you know, just think it over,” Johnny says in a lighter tone, trying to mask his desperation.

Benny can feel Johnny’s urgency as he takes a final drag from his cigarette and gathers his crutch, using it to return to the campfire. He takes one last look back at Johnny who remains rested against his bike, lost in thought.

When Benny returns to sit beside you, there’s a profound change in him. His eyes carry the weight of deep thought as he sinks into his seat next to you.

The ride home reflects his mood, cold and windy, with a chill that mirrors the silence between you. Benny is clearly lost in thought. By the time you both arrive home, it’s late. He’s sore, aching, and exhausted.

You head straight to warm up in a hot shower. As you stand behind him, washing his back with a washcloth, you gently ease his sore muscles as he stands under the warm water, letting the stress of the day slowly wash away.

After drying off, you settle into the fresh sheets of your soft bed, and turn off the light. Benny curls up against you, his breath warm and soft against your neck. As you begin to drift off in the comfort of his arms, he quietly reveals what’s been on his mind, “Johnny offered me the club.” Benny says his voice heavy with the gravity of his thoughts.

You turn slightly to look at him, feeling a twinge of anxiety.

“He said it’s mine if I want it,” Benny continues, looking into your eyes feeling undecided.

“Well, what did you say?” you ask gently.

“I didn’t say anything,” Benny replies, pulling you closer.

You rest your head on the pillow, thinking about the weight of the decision Benny will have to make. “Just rest now,” you say softly, your voice soothing as you gently stroke his hand, offering him comfort while he processes his thoughts.

Restored

The next week Benny finally gets his cast removed at the hospital. It’s a moment of triumph and relief. The doctor carefully uses a small, vibrating saw to cut through the hardened plaster, making quick, precise movements to ensure Benny’s skin remains untouched. As the cast comes off, he stretches his leg, testing its flexibility for the first time. The feeling of freedom is evident in his smile.

When Benny stands for the first time without the cast, he takes a tentative step, then another, gaining confidence with each movement. He turns to you, his eyes shining with gratitude, and wraps you in a warm hug. “Thank you, baby. I couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, his voice filled with deep appreciation. He pulls you in for a heartfelt kiss, a gesture that speaks volumes about how much your support has meant to him.

Once home, Benny eagerly dives into his chores. He starts by de-weeding the garden, pulling out stubborn weeds with a determined look of satisfaction. Next, he tackles his list of tasks around the house: cleaning the drains in the sink, and repairing the sticking window in the living room. His enthusiasm is undeniable as he works, each completed task a testament to his regained strength and stamina.

After he finishes his work, Benny heads to the shower, stripping naked as he turns the water on, letting it warm up. The steam begins to fill the bathroom, softening the edges of the mirror.

He steps under the stream, letting the hot water cascade over his tired muscles, washing away the dirt and grime from his skin. As he lathers up, his eyes drift down to his foot, where the red, jagged scar stretches across his ankle, a constant reminder of what he’s been through.

By nightfall, Benny surprises you by preparing a home cooked meal. He playfully pushes you out of the kitchen when you enter , his hands firm yet gentle on your waist.

“Go on, get off your feet,” he insists with a smile. As you turn back to protest, he leans in and kisses you, long and lingering, his gratitude evident in the way his lips meet yours.

His smile widens as you part, and he can’t help but watch the way your hips sway as you head to the living room, a warmth spreading through him at the sight.

He serves up spaghetti with tomato sauce and a crisp salad with Italian dressing. It’s a humble, straightforward meal, but the care and effort he put in to prepare it make it extraordinary. You both enjoy dinner with satisfied grins, savoring the flavors and the comfort of the familiar routine.

After dinner, Benny leads you into the living room, where he selects a record from your collection, holding it gently as he slides it from its sleeve and placing the vinyl onto the turntable.

He lowers the needle, and the room fills with the warm, crackling sound of the song as the music starts to play, filling the space with a melodic tune.

Benny turns to you, his eyes lit with anticipation, and gently pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he brushes his lips against yours in a soft, tender kiss.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this with you?” he asks, his hand resting around your waist as you move to the music.

“Forever, Benny,” you reply, your smile mirroring his. You both bask in the joy of the moment, swaying together and savoring the simple pleasure of being in each other’s arms.

He kisses you again, this time with greater need, his hands cupping your face.

“I love you,” he whispers. You look into his eyes, a playful glint in yours.

“Show me,” you say, pulling him by both hands toward the stairs.

Benny’s face lights up with a grin as he follows you up, step by step remembering when he was stuck on the ground floor with a cast.

“I missed this too,” he says in a playful tone his voice full of anticipation, making both of you laugh as you ascend the stairs together.

Once you reach the bedroom, Benny lifts you effortlessly into his strong arms. He holds you close, his eyes dark with desire and affection as your legs wrap around his waist.

“I’ve been wanting to hold you like this again for so long,” he says, his grin is infectious his eyes lock on to yours .

“Me too, Benny,” you reply, smiling as a thrill runs through you being carried in his strong arms. You look into his eyes, your heart pounding, and gently cup his face, lowering your lips to his in a soft, appreciative kiss.

Benny gently lays you on the bed, his touch tender as he settles you into the familiar comfort of the master bedroom.

His fingers caress your face with affectionate care, his eyes reflecting deep gratitude and longing. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this….how much I missed you… “ he says as his thumb gently brushes over your lips, “I thought about being healed and back in your arms everyday.” He smiles fondly.

His eyes soften giving way to something deeper. “You cared for me at my worst and …I just want to show you how much I appreciate you,” he says, his voice laced with emotion as he leans in and kisses you tenderly, full of his unspoken desire.

With a soft touch, he begins unbuttoning your top, his fingers lingering on your skin as he slowly removes it. His hands then trail to your jeans, sliding them down your legs with deliberate care. He stands to take off his own shirt, revealing his chiseled, muscular torso without a bruise in sight. His smooth skin showing all the contours of his muscles in the light.

You grin at him, taking in how handsome he looks, noticing the flex in his muscles seem even stronger than before. Your eyes drop to his hands as he begins unbuttoning his jeans, and your heart rate spikes with anticipation.

Benny lowers his jeans, standing before you, completely naked. His cock is long and hard, substantial in length, a clear sign of how much he desires you.

He gives you a commanding look as he grins his voice low and full of authority, “Show me how much you missed me baby” he says lowering his hand and running it along his cock. “Play with yourself until you begging for me” he orders.

Your breath quickens, a thrill coursing through you at his words. You seductively smile at him unhooking your bra and letting it slide down your arms, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Next, you slip your fingers into the waistband of your panties, peeling them off until you are completely bare before him.

You settle back against the bed, spreading your legs just enough to give him a tantalizing view.

Your fingers start to explore yourself with soft a deliberate touch, teasing your entrance gently at first, before pushing your fingers inside, causing a soft moan to escape your lips making Benny’s eyes darken with desire.

He climbs on top of you, his weight pressing down at your sides just enough to remind you of his presence, his breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.

He hovers above you, his body close but not quite touching, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come.

“Keep going for me,” he commands wrapping his hand around his cock, slowly stroking himself, the need between you building with each passing second.

You continue moving your fingers within yourself, your breathing becoming ragged as you surrender to the sensation. “Benny,” you whisper, your voice trembling with raw need as he pants above you. His eyes locked on yours as he strokes his cock harder in a quick deliberate rhythm.

As your moans grow desperate for him he lowers his mouth to your neck, trailing kisses that send shivers down your spine, his lips warm and soft, lingering just long enough to make you crave more.

His hand slides to your breast, his touch teasing as he firmly pinches your nipple, eliciting a gasp that makes you arch into him, the pleasure sharp and exquisite.

Benny’s breath quickens as he watches you beneath him, your face a picture of pure bliss, your body responding eagerly to the dual sensations of your own touch and his. His breaths become more ragged, his hand moving faster, stroking his cock harder

“Tell me you want me,” he whispers his voice thick with desire, his words sending a thrill through you.

“Please,” you beg, your voice laced with need. “I want you Benny.” The intensity of your plea drives him wild.

Without a word, Benny takes your wrist, pulling your fingers from you and guiding them directly into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around them, tasting you with a groan of satisfaction.

Then he places your hand back on your clit. “Tease it while I taste you,” he says as he lowers himself between your legs.

You do as he says, rubbing your clit with increasing pressure as his lips press against your soft folds, his tongue flicking and teasing, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

His mouth works expertly, licking and sucking with just the right amount of pressure, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

He places his fingers over yours, making you press harder on your clit as he guides your hand in slow, deliberate circles. “Benny,” you moan, your voice trembling with need.

He grips your hips, pulling you closer to his face, his breath hot against your skin as he laps at you, each stroke of his tongue teasing and deliberate. His movements are unrelenting drawing out every sensation until your eyes flutter closed and a loud moan escapes your lips, the pleasure too much to bear.

Your fingers circle your clit faster and faster, the sharp jolts of pleasure amplifying every sensation as Benny’s eager lips and tongue work at a relentless pace. Your hips begin to buck against his mouth, and he holds you firmly in place, your thighs tightening around his head, trapping him. He buries his face between your legs, thrusting his tongue deep inside you, coaxing your orgasm with deliberate strokes.

Loud moans escape your lips, the sound a mix of desperation and pleasure as your release comes, your body trembling as you squirt directly into his mouth. Benny groans against you, the vibrations of his voice making you moan in pleasure with him.l

As you come down from your high, breathless and spent, Benny takes his hands to your thighs, gently pushing them up and wide, your legs bending easily under his touch.

“I’m not even close to being done with you yet,” he breathes, his voice heavy with passion as he gazes down at you.

His hands grasp beneath your knees, his grip firm holding you in a way that leaves you completely vulnerable to him.

“You’ve given me everything, and I’m going to make sure you feel every inch of how much appreciate you.” He says using one hand to guide his tip to your entrance as his other hand keeps your leg firmly in place.

He pushes his cock deep into to your soaked walls. The sensation of him stretching you wider as he pushes in makes your breath catch, the tight pressure building with each inch he claims.

He settles within you, his large cock filling you completely, pressing against you at an angle that has you moaning his name.

He shudders replacing his hand to hold your other leg, spreading you wide apart the position leaving you completely at his mercy. With a deep, groan, he presses hips against you, pushing his cock all the way inside you as he begins to thrust.

His eyes flicker between your face and body as he watches the way you take him in. Every moan every gasp, the way your breasts bounce with every thrust, your nipples hardening with every jolt of pleasure.

He shifts his angle slightly, hitting just the right spot to make you moan louder.

“You feel …so good,” he praises, his voice raw and full of desire. His large hand slides up your side, until it reaches your breast, he

squeezes firmly, brushing his thumbs over your nipple before pinching it firmly between his fingers.

The sensation sends a sharp wave of pleasure through you, making you gasp. Benny’s eyes darken as he watches your reaction, the way your body arches into his touch, craving more.

He lowers himself onto you, his chest pressing firmly against yours. The weight of him feels grounding, the heat of his body searing against your skin.

His breath comes in warm, ragged pants against your neck as he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His hands cup your breasts squeezing and teasing your nipples as his hips thrust in a relentless rhythm, driving his cock deeper into you making you moan in pleasure.

His hands slide to the backs of your thighs, gripping them again as he picks up the pace, his thrusts become deeper, more intense, his cock pushing against a place that has you moaning into his mouth with every firm stroke.

The pressure is euphoric his cock filling you completely, leaving no room for anything else. You can feel every inch of him, every pulse and throb, as he claims you over and over again.

His grip on your thighs tightens, holding you in place as he increases his pace, his hips slamming against you with a force that leaves you breathless.

The controlling position has your body arching and writhing beneath him as he drives you closer and closer to the point of no return.

“Benny,” you cry out your voice trembling with desperation as he watches you fall apart beneath him. Your abs tensing as your walls clenching tightly around his cock.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel Benny as he takes you higher and higher, his pace relentless, his desire for you all consuming.

Your moans are unending as your body trembles, your heart racing as you teeter on the edge of oblivion,

“You’re gonna come“ he says breathlessly and reaches his hands between your bodies finding your clit. His fingers press firmly against it as he thrusts. Your body responds immediately, your hips bucking up to meet his touch as you moan desperately into the air.

He pulls you into a searing kiss his lips moving against yours with a fierce intensity, as if he’s pouring every ounce of emotion into the connection. His lips never leave yours, staying softly pressed together in a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

The pleasure becomes so intense that you moan into each others mouths feeling the tension building into an unbearable peak.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as you surrender to the sensation.

“Come with me,” he urges , his voice rough with desire as he gently guides your legs back until you’re perfectly positioned beneath him in a mating press. His biceps flexing as he holds your legs in place.

“This one’s for keeps,” he says, his voice strained with effort, each word a promise as his hips thrust driving himself deeper. He pushes harder, his back arching with each powerful stroke that fills your completely.

“I’m gonna come!” He yells and you both cry out in unison as the intensity overtakes you, his body claiming you with an overwhelming force.

Your orgasm crashes through you your walls pulsing and clenching around his cock as he continues thrusting into you. Your muscles tensing and quivering uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure surges through you.

Benny lets out a deep, guttural groan, his body shuddering as he reaches his own climax. You can feel the rush of his release hot and thick, filling you completely as he comes deep inside you. His cock pulses with each throb of your core, the warmth of his cum spreading through you, mingling with the slickness of your own arousal.

Your breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, as you cling to him, the sensation filling you with a sense of completion, of being claimed by him in a way that words could never convey.

Benny’s chest is heaving with exertion as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. You can feel the sweat on his skin, the way his body trembles with the effort.

Benny groans as the intensity of his movements begins to subside. His cock softly pulses making him feel euphoric as a satisfied sigh escapes his lips. His hands, once so firm, now gently caress your skin, his touch tender, almost reverent, savoring every second of being connected to you in this moment.

He remains close, his body still pressed tightly against yours, his cock nestled deep within you, as the final waves of pleasure slowly fade away.

You’re left in the quiet silence of the night, your bodies still entangled, your breaths slowly synchronizing, as you both bask in the lingering warmth and connection that only the depth of your love can bring.

Devoted

Benny repeatedly misses meeting after meeting with the Vandals. Every time the phone rings with Johnny Brusy or Cal on the other end, he comes up with an excuse not to attend, choosing instead to stay with you.

He hugs you, kisses you, and showers you with affection at every opportunity. He can’t seem to keep his hands off you especially your stomach, where he’s convinced his baby is growing.

One afternoon, his curiosity finally gets the better of him. You’re both doing simple tasks around the living room, you’re dusting the shelves, humming softly to yourself, while he’s putting records back into their sleeves, the warm notes of a vinyl playing in the air.

You move with a lightness on your tiptoes as you dust the higher shelves, a bright smile never leaving your face. There’s something different about you today, more radiant.

As you reach for the next spot, you accidentally knock a book from the shelf and you smile as you bend down to pick it up. You kneel carefully, one hand resting on your waist as you stand back up, the movement gentle and deliberate.

Benny pauses, watching you for a moment, mesmerized by how you seem to be glowing. It’s not just your mood or the way you move with a gentle grace it’s something deeper, something in the way you carry yourself.

“You’re like sunshine today baby,” Benny says, his voice soft with admiration.

You look back at him, your eyes sparkling. “Am I?” you ask with a grin, stretching up on your tip toes again, playfully dusting his shoulder.

He chuckles watching you, feeling a sense of wonder. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “You’re different. Something’s changed.”

As you walk around him, a soft giggle escaping your lips, he senses it. There’s a new softness to your movements, something gentle but undeniable, and he’s drawn to it.

He can’t help but be curious. “Let me get a look at you,” he says, stepping closer, gently resting his hands on your waist.

He kneels in front of you, bathed in the soft afternoon light of the living room and lifts the hem of your dress.

His fingers trace the skin of your stomach, his touch gentle but searching, trying to understand the change he’s sensing.

His eyes fixate on you navel with a burning curiosity. “How soon until we can tell?” he asks in a serious tone,

You smile at his earnestness. “It’ll be a few months until the doctors can tell, Benny,” you reveal, fully aware he won’t be too pleased with the wait.

He frowns slightly, his thumb lightly brushing across your belly button.

“I’ve been giving it my all, you know,” he says, his voice playful as he leans closer speaking softly to your belly. “Been working hard in there every day,” he adds with a teasing grin, making you giggle.

He then cautiously presses his finger into your swollen ovary. “Ow Benny!” You exclaim and he looks up at you his eyes worried “I’m sorry baby” he says quickly his eyes full of repentance.

“it’s alright Benny.” you say smiling at him warmly seeing how fascinated he is.

“I have to know.” He says having you hold your dress back.

He presses both of your ovaries with his thumbs at the same time making an odd sensation course through you as your face winces in pain.

“Hurts?” He asks glancing up at you before focusing back on your abdomen.

“Yea Benny it feels really sore“ you confirm your voice strained. He has a look of sudden realization as he immediately releases his hands standing taller than you.

He glances down at your abdomen then back into your eyes

“I’m a hundred percent sure my baby is growing in you right now.” He admits

“Benny what!” Your say smiling at his enthusiasm

“You’re having my baby.” he confirms and you gently laugh seeing the conviction in his eyes.

“Benny” you say sweetly wrapping your arms around his neck gazing into his blue eyes lovingly. “There’s no way you can tell this soon.”

Benny glances down between your bodies before looking back into your eyes his hands firmly on your waist. “I’m one hundred percent sure.” He says with unwavering certainty.

Better Off

With Benny avoiding time with the Vandals, it comes as a shock when you receive a call one afternoon, and it’s Betty on the line.

Her voice is trembling as she relays “I have some devastating news… Brusy… he died in a motorcycle accident.”

Your breath catches, and you grip the phone tightly as Betty explains. It was an early morning ride when someone backed out of their driveway without seeing him. His death was instant. You cover your mouth in shock, trying to process what she’s saying. “What about Gail?” you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“She’s inconsolable,” Betty replies, her voice breaking with emotion.

In a daze, you bid her farewell and hang up the phone heading straight to the garage, where you find Benny working on a bike. You stand in the doorway, hesitating, unsure how to break the news. Benny finally looks up at you, his hands covered in oil, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“What is it?” he asks, noticing your distress.

You take a deep breath, deciding to just tell him plainly. “Benny… Brusy died in a motorcycle accident.”

His reaction is not what you expect. Without even looking up, he mutters, “He’s better off.”

You’re stunned. “What?” you ask, thinking you misheard him.

“I said, he’s better off,” Benny repeats, this time taking the cigarette out of his mouth to look at you, his tone detached.

“Benny, you can’t say that,” you try to reason with him, still in disbelief.

Benny shrugs, going back to work on his bike, his indifference unsettling you. “How can you not have feelings, Benny?” you ask becoming frustrated with his lack if concern.

“My dad made sure of that,” he says, not bothering to look up as he tightens a bolt on the bike’s engine

“What did you say?” you ask, stepping further into the garage, drawn in by the rare mention of his past.

“He’s better off too,” Benny adds, still unbothered, as if he were discussing something trivial

“Benny!” you exclaim, shocked. “Your father… passed away?” you ask, your concern rising.

“Yeah,” he replies nonchalantly, wiping his hands clean of oil and tossing the rag over his shoulder. “It’s just as well.

The news hits you hard, but Benny’s stoic demeanor leaves you feeling helpless.

The next week you attend Brusy funeral with all of the Vandals to pay your respects. The family refused the floral arrangements from the club, so Johnny has the Vandals form a line at the entrance, a silent show of solidarity.

As Brusy’s family arrives, his mother and father are the only ones who attend. His father clutches his mother as they walk through the line of Vandals to the ceremony. Brusys mother recognizes Johnny, and her grief turns to anger. She looks him in the eyes with disgust and spits directly in his face.

“Get out of here, would ya?” Brusys father adds, leaning in after her with a serious tone. But Johnny and the Vandals remain, unmoved.

After Brusys death, the guilt weigha heavily on Benny. Seeing his brotherhood again in such sad times shifted something inside him

To your dismay, Benny throws himself wholeheartedly back into the Vandals. He’s running missions, going on weekly rides, and always at Johnny’s beck and call, eager to help at a moment’s notice.

He gets into more fights, racks up more speeding tickets, and makes more court appearances, as if he’d been desperate to make up for lost time.

Even though part of him wants to pull away, he cant seem to let go. The thrill, the loyalty to his brothers—he couldn’t resist, no matter how much he might have wanted to break free

Every time he comes home and sees you, there’s flicker of guilt in his eyes. He knows he should leave the club—he told you several times that he planned to walk away from the Vandals. “I’m just gonna leave,” he’d say, but you could always see the doubt behind his words deep down you knew he didnt meant it.

Every time Johnny called, Benny was right back by his side. Even though Benny didn’t want to take over the club, he could see the emptiness Johnny felt after losing Brusy, and that’s what kept him tethered-what kept him coming back.

After Brusy died, things began to change in the club. More people from tougher walks of life wanted to join, seeking the comfort and strength in numbers that the brotherhood provided.

Johnny had to turn away dozens of them, questioning their loyalty or finding it lacking altogether. But as new sects sprang up with different styles of leadership he began to lose his control.

The parties and picnics grew wilder and more chaotic until Benny stopped inviting you altogether. He preferred you stay home, safe and comfortable, while he helped Johnny sort through the increasingly violent and unpredictable issues that came with managing so many new, unruly chapters.

She’s Fine

When, Benny does finally invite you it’s to one of the largest parties the Vandals have ever thrown, held in an old, abandoned manor in the middle of a field in Chicago. As you arrive, a sense of unease settles in your stomach. You only know Johnny, Cal, and Cockroach; none of the old ladies from the club are there. In fact, there are only the new, provocative and wild girls, which immediately puts you on edge.

You sit with Benny as he drinks his beer, listening to Sunny, a new recruit, recount his tales of being a ‘Dead Devil’ member in California. As Sunny proudly describes his thrill of being in a club of “proper fuck-ups” like himself, you notice that the new bikers have a common uniting theme from all corners of the country.

They seem like renegades, exuding the mentality of dangerous, cutthroat survivors who are banding together to carry out their dirty work, empowered by their strength in numbers.

You try to relax, seeing the edgier side of biker life with Benny, but there’s a rougher, more aggressive undercurrent tonight. The feeling is unsettling and hard to ignore.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of a biker grabbing a girl with a roughness that’s meant to be playful, but the way he handles her is terrifying. The girl laughs it off, but the danger lurking beneath the surface is unmistakable.

When Benny drinks the last of his beer you get up to fetch him another. As you pull a cold one from the cooler in the kitchen, you encounter a skinny young woman smoking a cigarette.

“Are you new?” she asks, her eyes scanning you up and down.

“No, well, I mean, I’m with a Vandal,” you reply, gesturing towards Benny.

She takes a drag of her cigarette and offers a weak smile. “He’s handsome,” she says, her gaze lingering on Benny before she turns back to the conversation.

“I don’t blame you for being claimed by one,” she says, eyeing a biker from across the room. “I’ve had my fair share of men, but bikers… there’s something about em…the roughness, the edge, the way they push you beyond your limits,” she adds, giving you a knowing look as she takes another drag from her cigarette. “I can’t get enough of ’em,” she mutters, slowly exhaling a cloud of smoke that lingers in the air.

The biker she’s been eyeing gestures for her to come over, and without another word, she struts away, leaving you standing alone, her words hanging in the air.

Feeling a bit uneasy, you make your way back to Benny, unable to shake the conversation. As you approach with the beer, you notice all the men are looking in the direction you just came from.

You glance back and see the girl you just spoke to is now seductively dancing for the biker in the other room, a crowd of men gathering around to watch.

It dawns on you that the new girls around the club seem different—more open, more seductive, almost like… but you shake the thought from your mind. As you sit back down next to Benny, he places his arm around you, rubbing his thumb along your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

Suddenly, Johnny bursts into the room, snapping his fingers, his eyes deadly serious.

“Hey, guys, I need you,” he says, and Benny, Cal, and two of the new recruits quickly jump up and rush outside.

“I’ll be right back,” Benny tells you, concern etched on his face as he follows Johnny out, leaving you alone on the couch.

As you sit there waiting, a creeping unease begins to settle in. You notice several bikers standing around, their eyes flicking toward you more often than you’d like. The longer you sit, the more uncomfortable you feel. The room feels heavy, the atmosphere shifting as the men’s gazes linger on you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl.

Deciding it’s safer outside, you get up, intending to wait for Benny on the porch. But as you head toward the front door, you notice several bikers watching your every move, their eyes following you like a pack of wolves eyeing prey.

A cold chill runs down your spine, and with a sinking feeling, you realize the girl who was dancing seductively in the next room is gone, along with several of the other girls leaving you in a room of men riled up without a distraction.

You clutch your body instinctively, feeling the weight of their stares, every instinct screaming that something’s not right.

Just as you reach for the front door, a large, menacing biker steps in front of you, blocking your way. “Where you going?” he demands, his voice filled with malice as he grabs your arm with a vice-like grip.

“Let me go!” you scream in shock, shoving him as hard as you can, but his grip only tightens. Panic floods your veins as another biker grabs your other arm, and a third seizes your leg. They lift you off the ground, your body fighting with everything you have, but their hold is relentless, overpowering your desperate struggle.

“We’ll take good care of you, pretty thing,” one of them laughs, his grip like iron as he holds you.

“Let’s take her upstairs,” another one suggests, the words passing between them with a dark, unspoken understanding, as if they’ve done this a hundred times before, a silent agreement among predators who have found their prey.

Their faces are lit with excitement and thrill as they carry you to the stairwell, their eyes gleaming with twisted pleasure as their hands greedily roam over your body. “Stop it! stop it! let me go!” you panic, your voice trembling as their rough hands slide beneath your clothing, fingers brushing against your skin. “No, no!” you cry out, your voice rising in desperation.

They work together, ignoring your pleas, their grins widening as they tug at your clothing, reveling in the power they have over you. The more you resist, the more it fuels their twisted desires.

“Let’s see what else she’s hiding,” a third one grins, his fingers pushing into your waistband.

You begin to kick, punch, thrash with all your might, managing to break free of one’s grip just long enough to claw another biker across the face, leaving deep, angry red marks.

“Damn, girl you got some fight in you !” the biker yells, grabbing your wrist with force. Your screams begin to pierce the night air, each one more desperate than the last, filled with raw, frantic energy as they continue to carry you up the stairs.

“She’s never been broken in,” one of them says, a dark grin spreading across his face as he covers your mouth with his hand, muffling your screams as they drag you up toward the landing.

You begin to cry as the terrifying reality sets in, and a fist comes out of nowhere, smashing into the face of the biker covering your mouth. He stumbles back, releasing you in shock.

You see Johnny clawing his way through the men to get to you. He grabs you, pulling you out of their grasp with a fierceness that leaves no room for argument. “This is Benny’s girl!” Johnny shouts, his voice ringing with authority.

The bikers quickly realize their mistake, fear and regret flashing across their faces. “We thought she was working,” one of them stammers, panic rising in his voice as he tries to justify their actions. “We were just trying to get ours,” another says, but the words falter as he sees Johnny’s eyes burning with a need for retribution.

They begin to disperse, leaving you crumpled on the stairs, your head resting against the wall as you breathe heavily, trying to process the horror of what just happened.

Your clothes are in disarray, and you shiver uncontrollably, still feeling their hands on you, your skin crawling with fear and disgust. You try to cover yourself, but your hands are shaking too violently to close the remaining buttons. The sensation of their rough, unwanted touches lingers, burning into your mind, a memory you can’t shake.

Johnny crouches down beside you, his face serious, his attempt at reassurance doing little to comfort you. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice gentle, but the look you give him is one of pure, absolute hatred.

Hatred for Benny still being entangled in this life, and hatred for the negligence and wildness of these new members that nearly cost you everything.

Johnny meets your gaze, his eyes pleading, trying to convince you, and maybe even himself, that everything is under control. “Nothing happened, alright?” he says, nodding as if the repetition will somehow make it true, will somehow erase the trauma that’s etched into your soul.

You stare at him blankly, your mind slipping into a numb, distant place. “Where’s Benny?” you ask weakly, your voice cracking as you teeter on the edge of shock.

The thought of how close you came to being violated by several men at once crashes over you, leaving you drowning in despair as you retreat into your mind staring blankly ahead.

“Nothing happened. You’re fine,” Johnny repeats, but the words sound distorted, as if they’re coming from far away. His is voice hollow and meaningless, as if me keeps saying the words enough times it will somehow make them true.

Just then, Benny rushes into the door way of the stairwell, his eyes wild with concern, panic evident in every line of his face. “What the fuck happened? I was gone for a minute!” he exclaims, his gaze locking onto you, taking in your disheveled appearance, your vacant stare.

“Baby, are you alright?” he asks, dropping to his knees beside you, his voice trembling with fear.

Your eyes drop to meet his, but everything feels distant, like you’re disconnected. The world around you blurs, sounds muffled and distorted. You try to speak, but no words come out, your throat tightens, and your mind is blank, unable to process what just happened.

“Benny, she’s fine, some of the guys got the wrong idea,” Johnny says, trying to downplay the situation, but there’s a tension in his voice, a realization that things have gone far beyond what he can smooth over.

“What do you mean, they got wrong idea? She can’t even talk; she’s fucking shaking!” Benny shouts, his anger flaring into something dangerous.

“It’s all been handled, it’s okay,” Johnny tries to reassure him, but Benny isn’t buying it. He sees the truth in your eyes, the trauma that words can’t cover up.

“Johnny, she’s not right,” Benny says, his voice tight with a mix of fury and desperation. He quickly takes off his jacket and wraps it around you, his hands moving up and down your arms, trying to warm you, to bring you back from the place where you’ve retreated.

“They got a little handsy,” Johnny finally admits, his voice lacking the nonchalance he’s aiming for, knowing he’s failed to protect you.

“How handsy?” Benny demands, his voice dangerous with a promise of retribution.

“They just thought she was one of the girls, but she’s fine, Benny. Nothing happened. I took care of it,” Johnny insists and his words simmer Benny’s growing rage. He trusts Johnny with his life and that means yours too.

Benny helps you to your feet, your legs trembling so violently you can barely stand. He pulls you close, holding you tightly against him “What happened, baby?” He asks in a hushed tone his eyes searching yours, desperate for some sign that you’re okay, but you can’t give him that.

Your mind is lost somewhere dark, replaying the nightmare over and over again, the terror of what could have happened gripping your heart.

“I’m taking you home, baby,” Benny says, his voice soft but firm, the determination in his tone clear. He knows he needs to get you away from here, away from the chaos, away from whatever just happened.

He scoops you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. His grip is strong and protective, but beneath it is a layer of fear, of guilt, knowing that his world, his choices, brought you to this point.

As he carries you quickly to his motorcycle, you rest your head against his shoulder, still shaking, still trying to process the horror of what you just survived.

Johnny stands there, watching you both leave, scratching his head in frustration, stress etched into his features knowing this was a big fuck-up, one that might cost him to lose Benny for good.

Don’t Leave Me

As Benny rides home with you, his grip tightens around your hands, holding them firmly against his chest. You can feel the tension radiating off him, anger and fear battling for control in his mind. The roar of the engine, the wind whipping past, it all feels muted, overshadowed by the weight of what just happened. As you bury your face in his shoulder, you know deep down that things between you and the Vandals will never be the same again.

When you get home, Benny immediately takes you to the shower. He carefully helps you out of your clothing and adjusts the water temperature. As he holds you against his chest waiting for the water to warm up you finally realize you are home safe.

But it also brings a wave of emotions you’ve been holding back and tears well up in your eyes. You cling to Benny and when he looks down at you hearing your sobs, his expression softens with concern.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers, holding your face in his hands. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” He says his thumbs brushing away your tears, but you can’t find the words to tell him what really happened. The fear of what might come next—or maybe just the shock of it all—keeps the truth stuck in your throat.

“Shh shh it’s alright” He says seeing you struggle to find the words and calmly guides you under the hot water the warmth immediately embraces your stunned body.

You close your eyes, letting the water cleanse you and when you open them, Benny has stepped away to give you some privacy.

“Benny,” you call out, panic creeping into your voice feeling the vulnerability of being alone.

“Yeah, baby?” he responds, returning to the doorway shirtless preparing for bed.

“Don’t leave me,” you plead, your voice tinged with a sadness that cuts through him.

“Baby, I won’t,” he reassures you, reaching into the shower and turning off the water. “I’ll stay by you all night,” he says as he helps you out and dries you off wrapping the soft towel around your shoulders. “I’ll stay with you forever,” he says holding you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead to reassure you of your safety, but you can see the turmoil in his eyes.

Later that night, you lie awake. Benny’s arm is wrapped protectively around you, but despite his comforting presence, you can’t shake the fear of the chaos that unfolded. The new Vandals are ruthless without remorse and you’re terrified that this is just the beginning and that things will only spiral further out of control.

You wonder why Benny won’t leave the club and why he refuses to take over, and it dawns on you that he must hate what the club has become. What started as a brotherhood and a symbol of freedom has turned into chaos and mob mentality. Benny’s only reason for staying is to help Johnny enforce some semblance of order, but even that seems like a losing battle now.

You decide to tell Benny the truth in the morning. It wasn’t just a misunderstanding with a few members getting handsy; they were all going to violate you, and Johnny barely managed to save you in time.

As you lie there you understand the truth, Johnny lied because he knows the only reason Benny would ever leave the club is for you.

When you wake up the next morning, Benny is in the shower. Feeling famished, you decide to make breakfast for both of you, slipping into a short-sleeved dress before heading downstairs.

After preparing eggs and toast, you set the food on the counter and call up to Benny, determined to tell him everything. You know that once he hears the truth, he’ll finally have the reason he needs to walk away from the Vandals.

You hear his footsteps upstairs, the familiar creak of the dresser drawer opening, but he doesn’t come down. When he doesn’t respond to your second call, an uneasiness forms in your chest and you head upstairs to check on him.

“Benny?” you call softly as you step into the master bedroom. Benny turns to face you in the act of quickly throwing on his jacket. The tension in the air is undeniable as you take in the scene. Something’s off…something’s very wrong.

“Yeah?” he replies, his voice tight, as though he’s been caught red-handed.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your eyes narrowing, picking up on his unusual behavior.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, but you can see that he’s fully dressed, ready to head out. There’s an urgency in his demeanor, a desperation he’s not quite managing to hide.

“I have something I need to say,” you begin, your heart heavy with the weight of what’s been on your mind.

“I gotta be someplace,” he interrupts, his eyes darting toward the door like he’s desperate to escape whatever’s coming next.

“We all have to be someplace, Benny,” you say, your tone serious, conveying that this is not something you’ll let slide.

“Alright, what is it?” he asks, leaning back against the dresser, his shoulders tense with the stress and that seems to be eating at him.

A long silence stretches between you as you search for the right words as your emotions swirl inside you, threatening to burst forth. Finally, you say it outright, the words heavy with finality.

“I can’t live like this anymore, Benny,” you say, your voice trembling with more emotion than you intended. “And I’m not gonna live like this anymore.” The finality in your words is clear. If he stays in the club, you can’t stay with him.

Benny’s eyes narrow as he processes what you’re saying.

“Last night, Benny, you weren’t there. You didn’t see it,” you reveal, the memory of what happened still raw and painful. “I..I don’t know what I would’ve done if they got me up those stairs and into that bedroom.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you push them back, fighting the disgust and humiliation that threatens to overwhelm you.

“What bedroom?” Benny asks, his concern deepening, the seriousness of the situation dawning on him as you try to hold back your tears.

“Johnny said he took care of it,” Benny says slowly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “He said when I was gone, nothing happened.”

“That’s not true, Benny!” you exclaim, your voice cracking as the anger and fear you’ve been holding back finally break free.

“They tried to take me up the stairs, a group of them, and you didn’t see it!” Your voice rises, the frustration of staying silent for too long making it impossible to hold back the torrent of pain and fury.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice low, full of regret. His mind reels, replaying Johnny’s words, the betrayal evident in every line of his face as he realizes the truth of what you’re telling him.

“You weren’t there!” you scream, the anguish of the night before breaking through in a wave of despair.

Benny stares at you, seeing you so broken cuts him deeply, and he hates that he’s the cause of it.

You bite your lip, trying to keep it from trembling as you summon the strength to speak the most painful truth. “If they had done what they planned… I don’t think I could live with myself.” Your voice cracks as the weight of the situation crashes down on you, leaving you trembling with sadness.

“C’mon, don’t say that, baby,” Benny says, his eyes filling with hurt. He can see how deeply this has affected you, and it breaks his heart.

“Who would even want me after something like that?” you whisper, the fear and shame eating away at you needing him to understand the gravity of the situation, to see what the club has done to you—to both of you.

His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he stares at you, the weight of what you’ve endured crashing down on him. Johnny lied. The Vandals are out of control. The club is spiraling, and he’s been blind to how deep it’s gone.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, his voice low and tense filled with the weight of impossible choices.

“I want you to quit the club,” you say with certainty.

Benny’s eyes narrow, his face hardening. “Don’t ask that,” he says, his voice edged with steel.

He knows he can’t just leave the Vandals, it’s a brotherhood bound by blood, to cut ties, especially now, would mean being ‘out bad,’ a fate worse than death in his world.

“Let’s leave for a while then, maybe travel for a few months. We can go anywhere, Benny. Let’s just leave some place,” you plead, desperation lacing your words.

And there’s a silence as Benny looks down, rapidly processing everything you’ve just told him.

You stare at him, waiting, your heart pounding in your chest. The tension in the air is undeniable as you wait for his response, hoping this will be the moment he finally decides to walk away from the chaos.

“Benny,” you say tensely, waiting for his answer, hoping against hope that he’ll choose you. But he sits in silence, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he grips the dresser’s edge, the internal battle evident in his tense posture.

“Benny!” you shout desperately, realizing he’s still not ready to leave the Vandals after everything.

“What?” he snaps, the frustration finally breaking through. His anger flares for a moment as he bites his lip, but then he calms, the fight draining out of him. His eyes fill with a heartbreaking sadness, and for a moment, it looks as if he might cry. The vulnerability in his expression is raw and unguarded, and it twists something deep inside you.

“What did you think this was hm?” he asks, his voice heart wrenching, as he remembers all the times you accepted him as he was. “What did you think this was ever gonna be?” he repeats, his voice trembling with conflict.

His words cut deep, a reminder that you married a full-blooded biker, with all the darkness and danger that comes with it, no questions asked.

“Benny,” you whisper, your voice weak and trembling, not wanting to do what you know you have to. He looks away, his jaw clenched and tense as he waits, knowing what’s coming.

Silence falls between you as you look down, wiping the tears that stream down your cheeks. You sniffle, feeling your heart break with the realization that changing Benny was a fantasy, and it was naive to think otherwise.

Benny turns back to the dresser, opening a drawer and tucking something away, but you’re too heartbroken to care.

The realization that you need to prioritize your life without him hits you with a crushing finality, and the dream of a life together shatters in the quiet of the room.

Just as you gather the strength to speak the words, Benny suddenly surges forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. His body presses against yours, his hands gripping your jaw as his lips crash against yours in a kiss more frantic than anything you’ve ever felt.

There’s an overwhelming urgency in the way his mouth moves against yours, his kiss rough and desperate like a man on the edge, as if he knows this is his last chance, and he’s trying to make up for every mistake in this one heated moment.

You barely have time to catch your breath as his hands grip you tightly, wrapping around your waist, pulling you even closer, as his mouth devours yours.

His tongue pushes in, the kiss raw and unyielding, leaving you breathless. There’s no gentleness here, only a frantic need to claim you, to make you his again before everything falls apart.

You know what you need to do, the words you need to say, but Benny doesn’t give you the chance. He breaks the kiss just long enough to tear off his coat, tossing it aside in one swift motion. His grips your arm as if you’ll run away, holding you in place as his other hand moves to unfasten his jeans.

His lips return to yours with a feverish intensity, the kiss hard and demanding. He’s not giving you room to think, to protest, to do anything but feel the overwhelming power of his need.

Despite the turmoil raging within you melt into his embrace. His touch so familiar is powerful makes everything else fade away.

He’s holding onto you, to make you forget, to keep you here with him and the desperation in his touch is impossible to ignore.

Without breaking the kiss, Benny grips your arm and pulls you toward the dresser with sudden, forceful energy. His hold is firm, his need undeniable as he presses you against the unforgiving surface. There’s no room for words, no space for second thoughts his intentions are clear.

He yanks your dress up, the cold air hitting your skin, making you shiver. The tears you’ve been holding back prick at your eyes, but before they can spill, Benny’s hands are on you, pulling you back into the moment, pulling you back to him. His fingers are rough as they spread your legs wide, finding their place with a familiarity that’s charged with a new level of intensity.

He doesn’t hesitate and pulls your panties aside, finding you’re already slick from his touch, your body betraying the chaos in your mind. The moment he pushes his tip into you, a painful moan escapes your lips, vibrating through your entire body.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust, doesn’t even consider it. He thrusts in with one forceful, push his size filling you entirely causing an ache you can barely withstand.

“Benny,” you gasp, your voice trembling as you struggle to catch your breath, wanting to ask him to slow down, to give you a moment.

But Benny is beyond that now. His pace is brutal, relentless, his hips snapping against you with an intensity that leaves you reeling, your body caught between pleasure and pain. Each thrust sends a shockwave through you, the friction overwhelming as your walls tighten around him.

The harsh sound of slapping skin fills the room, mingling with the desperate moans that tear from your throat as your body presses against the dresser. There’s a rawness to his movements, a desperation in the way he’s taking you, like he’s trying to drown out his own pain, his own fear, with every thrust.

Benny’s grip on your waist tightens, his rhythm growing more frantic as he chases his release, as if can find solace in it, that he can somehow escape the reality of what’s happening between you.

You’re both lost in the intensity of the moment, but there’s no relief, no comfort only a desperate, chaotic need that threatens to tear you both apart.

And then, just as suddenly, he stops. He pulls out of you, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness, your body still trembling from the relentless assault. Without a word, Benny grabs your waist and hastily pulls you away from the dresser.

He practically lifts you onto the bed, his hands shaking as he positions you beneath him. You catch a glimpse of his face, and your heart tightens at the sight—his eyes are red-rimmed, filled with a torment he’s barely holding back. He’s fighting to keep control, but the tears are there, threatening to fall, the raw emotion in his gaze nearly breaking you all over again.

He hesitates for just a moment, his breath catching in his throat, before he pushes your panties aside once more, and thrusts back into you with force.

The way he fills you again so quickly sends shockwaves through your aching core as you arch from the bed.

His weight bears down on you, his hips grinding into yours with a ferocity. The pleasure builds, but it’s a dark, jagged thing, tearing through you as your body starts to surrender to the intensity.

The initial ache gives way to something deeper, more profound. Your moans are filled with a mix of pain and need, as he continues his relentless thrusts, refusing to let you go, refusing to give in.

His face buries into the crook of your neck his breaths hot and ragged against your skin, and you feel his tears mix with your sweat. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as if he’s trying to anchor himself to you.

“Don’t leave me,” he chokes out, his voice thick with anguish, muffled against your skin but clear enough to cut through you like a knife.

“Benny,” you gasp, feeling the raw emotion in his voice, the way his need is almost suffocating. You hold him tighter, knowing you need to do something, say something to bring him back from the edge.

His thrusts slow, becoming deeper, more deliberate, like he’s trying to carve his presence into your very soul, to make sure you feel him long after this moment ends

You feel his anguish and torment as he groans, his voice filled with pain, his hands gripping your hips with an intensity that matches the depth of his thrusts. He’s making you his, pouring every ounce of his desperation into you. In that moment you understand you can’t leave him, not when he needs you so desperately.

“Benny,” you whisper in his ear, your voice soft but steady, trying to ground him, to pull him out of the spiral he’s caught in.

“I won’t leave you.” You confess. Your words cut through his heavy desperation, and he lifts his face to yours, his eyes brimming with an emotion so intense it steals the breath from your lungs. He kisses you, and it’s not gentle, it’s desperate, frantic, his lips filled with a hunger that’s all-consuming.

His body presses harder against yours, each thrust deep and powerful, driven by the turmoil raging inside him. He loses himself in the feeling of you, moaning against your mouth as his muscles tense, every inch of his body thrusting against yours with wild, unrestrained passion.

His hips drive forward with a force that leaves you breathless, every thrust a wordless plea, as if he’s trying to drown out everything else—the anger, the fear, the guilt—desperately holding onto you as his salvation.

Your hands slide up to cradle his face, and you kiss him back with everything you have, trying to pour all the reassurance you can into that kiss.

Your body responds to every thrust, your own pleasure building as he pours all the pent up emotions he’s been holding back into each movement.

You moan his name, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all, as you feel him tense against you, his cock pulsing as he nears his release. His thrusts become frantic, his desperation to hold onto you undeniable.

He cups your jaw, his fingers digging in just enough to make you focus on him, his eyes locking onto yours, the vulnerability in his gaze making your heart race. “Tell me you love me,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion.

“I love you, Benny,” you say, and it’s the truth, even in this dark, twisted moment. You pour every ounce of yourself into the words, pulling him into a deep, desperate kiss. The connection between you grows stronger, more intense, as his body begins to shudder, his control slipping away.

He groans into your mouth, his muscles tensing as he finally reaches his peak, he presses as close to you as possible, holding you against him as he comes with a final desperate thrust. His hips push against you forcefully his cock pulsing his release into you.

He collapses against you, his breath coming in heavy gasps as your arms hold him close, feeling the weight of everything that’s passed between you and you hold him tighter, knowing you’re all he has in this moment.

His breaths are warm against your neck, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. You trail your hand down his back, your touch soothing, comforting, something that grounds him, even in the midst of all his chaos and as the room falls into a heavy silence, he basks in the comfort of your arms, finding peace in your embrace.

You thread your fingers through his hair, and the connection between you feels different now, deeper, more intimate than before.

The weight of his turmoil seems to lift as he realizes that he has you, and you are everything to him and he knows now he will never let you go.

For the first time Benny feels completely loved, wrapped in your warmth and security finding what he has always longed for.

After a moment in shared silence, he finally speaks from the heart.

“I’m going to leave the club,” he says, his voice steady with newfound resolve as he rests against your chest feeling your fingers affectionately weave through his hair.

“I have to take care of one more thing with Johnny today, and then I’m out,” he confirms, tilting his head up to look at you, his eyes filled with determination.

You nod, feeling a surge of emotion wash over you. For the first time, you truly believe that you and Benny will be free, that there’s a future for both of you beyond this life.

He wipes the tears from his face, grounding himself in the warmth of your body and you gently take his hand and place it on the side of your stomach, your heart pounding with what you’re about to say.

“Benny, you were right,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly with emotion and be looks down at your hand as you place it over his, the significance of the gesture slowly dawning on him. “I am pregnant,” you reveal softly.

For a moment, time seems to stand still. His eyes widen with the realization, and you see the shock flood his expression all at once. In that instant, everything changes for him. It’s as if the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders, and a new purpose has settled into his heart. This—this is what he’s always wanted, even if he never dared to hope for it.

His eyes search yours with an intensity that leaves you speechless. “We’re going to have a baby,” he whispers, almost in disbelief, his voice heavy with emotion. The words hang in the air, filled with awe and reverence. You smile and nod, cupping his face gently, seeing a new side of Benny right in front of your eyes —one full of hope and tenderness.

“I’m going to take care of everything,” he promises, his voice firm with newfound determination. “We’re going to be free, and I’m going to give you and our baby the life you deserve.” He says with conviction.

The road ahead is now clear to him, more important than ever before. His resolve to protect you, to protect this new little life growing inside of you, deepens into an unshakable certainty.

The future he’s been so unsure of now holds a new and profound meaning, and he’s completely devoted to you and the family you’re about to create together.

Stay Gone

Benny gets on his bike, a faint smile forming on his lips. The thought of you, pregnant with his child, fills him with a warmth he’s never felt before. He loves you, and he’ll never leave you as long as he lives.

As he rides toward the Vandals’ bar, a surprising sense of relief washes over him. He’s ready to leave the club, something he’s never seen an original member do before. He wonders what Johnny will say. Benny knows he could’ve gotten out when he broke his leg, but he’s always been loyal, always honest with Johnny. After all, Johnny was the one who took him in when he was abandoned and alone, welcoming him with open arms and the rest is history.

The whole ordeal of Johnny’s meeting today stems from the night at the party when you were attacked by the newer Vandals.

Benny had left you to deal with the aftermath of another brutal incident when Cockroach, one of the original members, had been beaten to a bloody pulp by a group of new recruits.

He told the newer Vandals around a campfire that he planned to leave the club and become a police officer. But the new recruits, coming from different sects, had begun creating their own rules, transforming the brotherhood into something harsh and unforgiving. In their world, loyalty had taken on a brutal, unyielding edge, and in their eyes, pigs don’t fly with bikers.

When Cockroach left the campfire to relieve himself, three of the newer members exchanged a knowing look of agreement, disgusted by what they deemed his disloyalty. Without hesitation, they took turns beating him to within an inch of his life.

Johnny, Cal, Wahoo, and Benny saw the aftermath—concern flickering between them as they took in the severity of the beating on one of their own. The unspoken tension hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment that their brotherhood was being torn apart from the inside.

After Cockroach healed up, he arrived at the club with his head hung low. He wanted out; he wanted to start a new life. Benny and the other members listened to his tale in silence. Once he limped out of the bar, everyone felt unsettled he was an original member, and this would set the precedent for how anyone who wanted to leave would be treated.

Johnny turned to Benny, with a solemn knowing look. “You still got your pistol?” He asked

“Yeah, why?” Benny replied.

“Because we’re gonna go see Cockroach,” Johnny said with a dark glint in his eye.

Now, as Benny reaches the club in the afternoon, he dismounts his bike, pistol tucked securely in the back of his waistband.

During the argument with you, when he discreetly had to hide the fact that he was carrying a gun, he knew the club had indeed become corrupted.

The days of freedom and friendship are now, power shifts and territorial disputes favoring drugs and violence. He doesn’t know what Johnny has planned needing his pistol, but he’s almost certain they won’t kill Cockroach to set an example for leaving the Vandals.

He pushes the doors open to the low hum of blues playing in the background, the usual bar sounds mixing with the music. He spots Johnny and Cal drinking in the corner. He can already hear the sadness in Johnny’s voice as he finishes telling a story about Brusy, making all the guys nod, feeling the weight of Brusys recent passing. “Live a biker, die a biker,” Johnny says, downing a shot.

As soon as Johnny sets the glass down, he smiles, seeing Benny. “There he is!” Johnny says, chuckling as he gets up.

“Johnny, we need to talk,” Benny says, his tone serious.

“About our little mission to see Cockroach? We’ll discuss that later. Come have some drinks, join the guys,” Johnny says, gesturing him over.

But Benny doesn’t budge. “It’s about my wife,” he says with tension.

The room falls silent, and everyone turns to look at Benny, sensing the gravity of his words.

Johnny scratches the back of his head, a bit of apprehension creeping into his voice. “What about her?” he asks, glancing over with a knowing expression on his face.

“She won’t be coming around the club anymore,” Benny says, his voice firm.

Johnny nods slowly. “Good, good. You know, it’s different now. She really shouldn’t—this is a man’s world,” he says, prompting a round of chuckles from the bikers.

Benny knows Johnny won’t side with him on this. Even though the men touched you, Johnny dismissed it as a mistake, chalking it up to confusion with the prostitutes around. But the fact that they manhandled you so violently, despite knowing you screamed for your life, shows they have no shame. You were deliberately targeted.

Johnny senses the shift in Benny’s demeanor, hears the edge in his voice sees the fire in his eyes. He knows Benny’s planning something, and he’s determined to remind him tonight what happens when someone tries to leave on their own terms.

Benny doesn’t join Johnny’s table. Instead, he heads to the bar, sitting alone with his thoughts as he orders a drink.

As Benny downs his glass, his mind drifts to you, how you’ll spend your lives together, raising your child. He’s keeping this precious part of his life to himself, knowing it’s one less thing Johnny can use against him if it comes to that.

At nightfall, Johnny drives Benny to a quiet neighborhood on the lower east side near the tracks. With Benny as second in command, Johnny wants to enforce the new rule for leaving the club, using Cockroach as the example.

Johnny pops the trunk, and Benny’s eyes widen in surprise when he sees a shotgun inside. Johnny grabs the shotgun, slams the trunk shut, and gestures for Benny to follow.

Benny pulls his gun from his waistband as they creep through the neighborhood.

“Don’t do nothin’. Just follow me,” Johnny whispers.

They finally stop in front of a house on the back row.

Johnny cocks and aims the shotgun, blasting the door handle. The loud sound and flash take Benny aback.

They walk through the clearly abandoned house to the kitchen.

A solitary figure sits in the darkness on a chair. When he stands up and steps into the light, Benny recognizes Cockroach. He’s battered and bruised, looking up at Johnny with a glum expression. He knew this was coming; he got the call to stay put until Johnny arrived, allowing him the dishonor of leaving the Vandals.

“Give me your pistol,” Johnny says to Benny. Benny looks at Cockroach, then back to Johnny, and silently hands over his weapon.

Johnny takes Benny’s pistol and, without hesitation aims it at Cockroach’s knee, firing a shot. Cockroach wails in agony as Johnny wipes the blood around his wound

“You let it bleed,” Jonny says, locking eyes with Cockroach, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. His voice is low, unyielding

“Go now and stay gone.” Johnny says with menace. It’s the final, brutal declaration of excommunication from the Vandals, and there’s no mistaking the seriousness in Jonny’s tone.

This isn’t just a warning it’s a death sentence to any ties Cockroach had with the club. The message is unmistakable: the brotherhood is severed from him forever.

Johnny hands Benny his pistol, and Benny feels the heavy weight of it in his hand—the weight of what the club has become.

Benny takes one last look at Cockroach, thinking of all the years and rides they’d shared, only for him to be shot in the leg, perhaps never to ride again and tucks his pistol into the waistband at his back following Johnny out into the night.

The drive back to the Vandals’ bar is silent, not a word spoken between them, both retreating into their thoughts, the weight of the situation hanging heavily on their minds. When the car parks on the familiar street in front of the club, Johnny cuts off the engine

“What the fuck was that?” Benny finally asks stunned by the brutality.

Johnny sighs. “That was taking care of Cockroach,” he emphasizes.

“Like you took care of my wife?” Benny glares at him, his eyes full of rage, still unsettled over what happened to you.

Johnny looks Benny in the eyes, recognizing the accusation, and simply nods.

“Is that what this club is now?” Benny asks. “Is that who we are?” His voice presses, challenging the violent turn the club has taken.

Johnny takes his time, lighting a cigarette. “That’s it,” he answers flatly.

Disgusted, Benny immediately gets out of the car.

Johnny stubs out his cigarette and quickly hops out after him, “Benny, wait!” He shouts.

Benny turns around, his face a mix of anger and dismissal.

“These new guys… these young guys, they don’t listen,” Johnny tries to explain, his tone pleading.

Benny just stares at Johnny, his expression hardening

Johnny’s eyes are almost begging. “I can’t run this club no more,” he admits, his voice heavy with defeat.

Benny looks at Johnny, seeing the desperation in his eyes. For a moment hesitates, torn between his loyalty to Johnny and the overwhelming need to be with you.

Johnny’s eyes plead. “I need you,” he says.

After a moment of thought, Benny finally speaks, making his decision to leave the Vandals clear.

“I don’t ask anyone for anything, and I don’t want anything from nobody,” he says firmly, his eyes locked on Johnny.

“It’s not me, and it’s never gonna be me.” His voice is firm with the weight of his decision, the rejection of Johnny’s offer to lead the Vandals is final.

The two men stare at each other for a moment longer—Benny leaving the club, and Johnny left with a club he no longer wants to lead.

Without another word, Benny turns, hops on his bike, and with a swift kick, roars the engine to life. The sound echoes through the night as he speeds off into the darkness, leaving the Vandals, and Johnny, behind for good.

Out Good

When Benny arrives home, he parks his bike in the driveway, feeling a huge weight lifted from his shoulders he’s finally done with the Vandals. As he dismounts, his hand lingers on the handlebar, his heart heavy with memories of the guys—their adventures, the campfires, the meetings, and the endless rides with the club. Without his pack, he feels like a lone wolf, but now he knows he is creating a new wolf pack of his own with you. One that will last forever.

After Benny showers downstairs, he quietly enters the master bedroom, trying not to disturb you, but you’re already awake, having heard his bike. “Benny?” you call out softly, sitting up in the dark.

“Yeah baby,” he replies, sitting on the bed and climbing in close, pressing himself against you.

his presence soothes you instantly “Benny, I was so worried,” you say softly and he kisses your cheek, his lips lingering warmly against your skin. “You don’t have to worry baby,” he whispers gently.

He kisses you slowly, laying you down on your back, his heart filled with desire. You are the center of his world, the one who kept him from letting the club consume him entirely.

He pauses the kiss to look down at you, hesitating for a moment, almost reverent before he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with emotion as he gazes into your eyes. “For everything I put you through…you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“Benny…” you begin, reaching up to affectionately touch his jaw, and he leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand.

“I’m sorry too,” you say softly, and he looks at you, confused. “For what, baby?” he asks, placing your hand on his chest, holding it there.

“I actually thought of leaving you, Benny,” you admit, your voice heavy with emotion. His expression softens as he cups your face gently. “I know, baby…but after everything I put you through,” he says, his hand trailing down your arm in a comforting gesture. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice full of regret, knowing deep down that you are far better than he ever thought he deserved.

“You deserve more than you think,” you say with a soft smile, guiding his hand to your navel. His eyes follow, looking down at your hands together over your stomach, and he feels a wave of relief wash over him.

“I’ll never leave you Benny,” you promise as he presses his hand over yours, feeling the strength of your commitment, and for the first time he believes you.

“I know, baby,” he whispers, his hand gently trailing up to your jaw, holding it tenderly as he leans down to kiss you softly.

His lips move slowly over yours, full of love and longing, his emotions overflowing because he’s yours, completely. You reach up, threading your fingers through his hair, knowing that you’re both bonded together permanently, with a future full of endless possibilities to create the life you both want.

Bennys Decision

As the weeks turn into months, your belly grows bigger and rounder. The cute summer dresses you once wore have been replaced by long, flouncy dresses that comfortably fit your growing bump. Benny, fueled by his enthusiasm for repairing motorcycles, has enrolled in trade school, leaving you every day to work toward his degree and provide fulfilling purpose for your new lives.

You’ve both decided that once he graduates, he will open a shop in the heart of Chicago, where he can repair cars and motorcycles alike. It was always a dream of yours to open a business, inspired by the guidance of your father, and you are overjoyed that it will now be for Benny.

At trade school, Benny quickly makes friends with like minded enthusiasts, bonding over discussions of engine tuning, and custom builds. The friendship among them eases the transition from Benny old life to this new, more hopeful one.

Benny hasn’t seen the Vandals for months, and though he’s not out bad, all the members know to steer clear of him. The distance is both a relief and a lingering shadow in his heart.

One afternoon, as you water the plants in the kitchen, the faint sound of a motorcycle catches your ear. Smiling, you assume Benny is home and put on your housecoat to greet him. The fabric wraps around your bump, and you take a moment to button it up before stepping outside.

As you step into the crisp, cool air, you’re surprised to see Johnny instead of Benny at the curb. “ Hi Johnny” you greet him as the autumn breeze tugs at the hem of your coat, and you pull it tighter around yourself.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Johnny responds, though there’s a lingering sadness in his eyes for who he really wanted to see. “Benny around?” he asks, stepping forward but keeping a respectful distance.

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling the cool breeze nip at your skin. The weight of your pregnancy makes standing in the cold tiring, so you ease yourself into the rocking chair on the front porch.

“You know Benny,” you say with a warm smile as you settle into the chair.

Johnny nods, his gaze drifting to the quiet street before returning to you. He hesitates, studying your demeanor, the wind rustling through the trees the only sound breaking the silence between you.

“You look good,” he finally says with a reluctant grin. “Cold weather’s got you glowing with the whole rosy cheeks thing,” he adds, pointing.

You smile, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes as you begin rocking in your chair. Johnny’s clueless comment makes you smirk to yourself. The warmth of the secret you’re carrying adds an extra layer of satisfaction as you bask in the quiet moment.

“What is it, Johnny?” you ask, noticing his eyes narrow as he studies you, a flicker of recognition in his glance.

He shifts his weight and gives you a small, almost knowing grin. “Yeah, do me a favor,” he says, the grin not quite reaching his eyes.

“Sure,” you respond, curious.

“Don’t tell Benny I stopped by,” Johnny says and the words carry a weight that’s hard to miss.

You smile with a bit of resignation, remembering the times you had your own doubts about Benny, when you weren’t sure he’d ever change for you. But he did, and now you both stand on the other side of that decision.

Johnny takes one last glance back at you, something unreadable in his expression, before turning and getting on his new, expensive bike. The engine roars to life, and with a final look your way, he rides off down the street, disappearing into the distance.

As you watch him go, you feel the bittersweetness of the moment. Benny chose you over Johnny, and that choice brought you here, to this new chapter. The bond between them may have been strong, but Benny’s love for you was stronger.

You pull your coat a little tighter around yourself, feeling the weight of the moment, and then slowly rise from the chair, ready to step back into the warmth of your home and the life you’ve built together with Benny.

Some Kid

Benny wakes up early with the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. He has a final at trade school in the afternoon, so he decides to take advantage of the quiet hours of the morning to complete some tasks around the house.

Lying beside you, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead before his hand slides down to rest on your swollen belly. With only a few more weeks to go, the anticipation fills the air in the quiet house. You stir slightly, rolling over a sleepy smile spreading across your face. “Mmmm,” you murmur as you stretch, and Benny’s arms wrap around you, pulling you close.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispers, his voice soft and full of warmth as your eyes flutter open.

“Good morning, handsome,” you reply, your smile widening as he strokes your hair lovingly.

“You want me to make you something to eat?” he asks, his tone gentle. You shake your head, stifling a yawn with your hand.

“Just rest then,” he says, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. You nod in agreement, your eyes closing again as he carefully slips out of bed.

After a quick shower, Benny gets dressed for the day and heads down the hall to the nursery.

As he pushes the door open, he can’t help but smile. Everything inside has been handmade and painted by him in preparation for the impending arrival. He’s painted the walls, built a bookshelf, and constructed a changing table. Now, he sits down to put the finishing touches on the cribs, his heart swelling with pride and love. Unlike him his kin will want for nothing.

By the time Benny finishes, you’ve joined him in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair he made. You’re engrossed in a book on business operations for opening a mechanic shop, your hand resting protectively on your belly. Benny comes over, leaning down to plant a loving kiss on your lips.

“I gotta go,” he says, knowing it’s time to head out.

You pull him back, kissing him in return and he rubs his hand along your belly kneeling down, pressing his lips to your bump. “Stay put until I get back,” he says softly to your womb, making you giggle.

“I’ll see you all later,” he says affectionately his hand lingering on yours before leaving.

Just before noon, Benny sets off for trade school. The class is routine and after finishing his exam, he shoots the breeze with his friends before everyone departs and he begins the ride home.

As Benny rides, a tug of sadness pulls at his heart. The familiar feel of the wind and the rumble of his bike brings back memories of riding in a pack, of belonging. Now, he’s solo, and the loneliness seeps in. At a red light, instead of turning toward home, he finds himself heading into a rougher neighborhood. He stops a few blocks short of the Vandals club and strides into a nearby bar with a practiced ease, sitting down and ordering a whiskey.

The bar is loud and rowdy filled with bikers murmuring about a recent shooting. “Yea some kid challenged him and instead of fighting like a man the kid shot the guy point blank in the chest. Guy died right on the spot in the parking lot, well known biker too.”

“Yeah, he ran the Vandals club,” one of the older bikers chimes in, then notices Benny at the bar . “Hey, didn’t you ride with that guy?”

Benny’s face goes ashen as the realization hits him. It’s Johnny who’s been shot. He swallows hard, the lump in his throat nearly choking him. “His name was Johnny, right?” the biker asks, and without looking over, Benny nods. He slowly downs his shot with haunted sadness in his eyes, the turmoil inside him undeniable. After a moment, he pays his tab and exits the bar into the cold evening air.

Outside, the weight of the news crashes over him like a tidal wave and Benny feels the wind sucked out of him as memories of Johnny flood his mind—Johnny’s laughter, his words of encouragement, the way he never took anything too seriously. Johnny, his best man, his mentor in every way that mattered.

Benny’s heart shatters right there in the parking lot. He grits his teeth, trying to hold back the emotion, but it’s too much. Quickly, he mounts his bike and drives home, the wind lashing at his face as he pushes the speed, the adrenaline barely masking the agony gnawing at his insides.

When he pulls up to the house, you’re already on the porch, hearing the loud roar of his motorcycle as he sped down the street.

Benny dismounts, and the sight of him breaks your heart. His eyes are red rimmed, his face a mask of anguish, as if he’s on the verge of tears but trying desperately to hold it together.

He walks toward you with slow, heavy steps, his breath catching as he struggles to keep his emotions in check. You can see it in his eyes, something terrible has happened.

As he reaches you, Benny collapses onto the porch steps, the weight of his emotions pulling him down. When you sit with him and he buries his head against your chest, and that’s when the dam finally breaks. He sobs uncontrollably, his cries raw and desperate, his breath hitching as he gasps for air. His handsome face is twisted in torment, his body shaking with the force of his grief.

“…Johnnys …dead…” he finally gasps out his voice trembling and you hold him close. You wrap your arms around him tightly as if you could shield him from the pain. Your fingers gently stroke his hair, your other hand rubbing soothing circles on his back as you press soft kisses to his head, though you know nothing can ease the ache in his heart.

Benny clings to you, his sobs unrelenting, the loss of Johnny cutting deep into his soul. He’s inconsolable, the grief overwhelming him, as if the very foundation of his world has been ripped away. The weight of Johnny’s death has broken him, and all you can do is hold him, letting him release the torrent of pain he’s been holding inside.

Time seems to stand still as you sit together on the porch, the evening air cool around you. Benny’s cries slowly begin to subside, his body exhausted from the intensity of his emotions. You continue to hold him, your presence a steady anchor in the storm of his grief, your love the only thing keeping him from being completely lost to the darkness.

When the Bow Breaks

When Benny prepares you dinner a few weeks later, he’s starting to return to some semblance of himself. His movements are still weighed down by grief, but he pushes through, focusing on taking the best care of you. The lingering sadness in his eyes is evident, but he channels all his energy into caring for you.

“C’mon, baby, you need to eat for us,” he urges gently, noticing you toying with the food on your plate again. “You haven’t eaten a thing today” he says noticing your expression unsettled.

“I cant…Benny, I don’t feel well,” you reply softly, a touch of sadness in your voice.

Concerned, he comes to your side, placing the back of his hand to your forehead to check for a fever. “You’re burning up, baby,” he says, worry creeping into his voice as he feels your clammy skin scorching his hand.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he insists, his concern growing.

As you stand, a sharp pain grips your lower abdomen, and you wince, instinctively reaching holding his hand steadying yourself. The sensation intensifies, spreading through your body like a wave, and suddenly, you both realize what’s happening—your labor has begun.

Benny’s eyes light up, despite the terror flashing in them, as the reality of the moment sinks in. “Baby! It’s happening!” he exclaims, his breath catching in a mix of excitement and fear.

In that instant, all thoughts of the loss that has haunted him are pushed aside. His focus is entirely on you, the woman he loves more than anything and he’s prepared to welcome his offspring into the world.

He sets you gently on the couch, his every movement tender, though the pain intensifies with each passing second. “It hurts, baby?” he asks, his voice laced with worry seeing your face flushed as you breath sharply with your eyes closed.

“Yeah, Benny really bad,” you gasp, gripping the edge of the cushion as another wave of pain hits you.

“Wait right here,” he says, darting upstairs. He returns in a flash with his rucksack, packed with everything you’ll need for the hospital. Carefully, he helps you into the car, his hands steady but his heart racing with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

Every bump, every turn of the car has you moaning in pain, and Benny does his best to drive softer, his heart pounding as he tries to keep you as comfortable as possible.

The tension is undeniable, the anticipation almost overwhelming as he finally parks the car under the hospital awning.

“Wait right here, don’t move,” he says, dashing inside. Moments later, he’s back with the medical staff, who quickly load you into a wheelchair. By now, the pain is agonizing, your body covered in a light sheen of sweat, your face flushed. Benny walks alongside you, his emotions a chaotic mix of panic and thrill as you’re wheeled into the hospital room where you will give birth.

An hour passes, filled with the struggle and strain of labor. Dozens of pushes later, Benny is right by your side, your hand clinging tightly to his, your body spent. “I can’t do it,” you relent, tears of exhaustion brimming in your eyes.

“C’mon, baby,” he says, his voice firm yet gentle. “Just keep your eyes on me. you’re almost there. just one more push.”

His words give you the strength you didn’t know you had, and with one final, determined push, the sound of a baby’s cries fills the air. You look at Benny, your eyes shaking with disbelief and joy. Then, to your astonishment, another cry follows, and together, the sound of new life fills the room, echoing around you both.

The medical staff moves quickly, cleaning and wrapping the babies in soft blankets. They place a tiny, wriggling boy in Benny’s arms, and a precious little girl in yours. You both are ecstatic, your hearts swelling with a love so profound it brings tears to your eyes.

Benny is overcome with emotion, his eyes welling up as he gazes down at his son. He’s so filled with joy he can barely speak. “This is the happiest day of my life,” he chokes out, his voice thick with tears.

You’re exhausted, your body aching from the ordeal, but as you look down at the tiny bundles in your arms, your heart fills with a love you’ve never known before. Benny coos softly at his son, then reaches out to touch his daughter’s bundled up form, his hand trembling with joy.

He carefully places your son into your arms, so you’re holding both of your newborns together. Overwhelmed with happiness, Benny leans in and kisses all three of you, his lips lingering on your forehead, then brushing against each baby’s head. His body trembles with pure, unfiltered joy, and you can’t help but get wrapped up in his excitement.

As you cradle your babies, Benny’s eyes meet yours, and in that moment, you know that this is what you both have been waiting for this is the life you’ve fought for. He kisses you again, a deep, lingering kiss full of love and gratitude, and as you hold your family close, you realize that nothing else matters. This is your world, and it’s perfect.

Florida

After several years together Benny is now a full fledged mechanic and business owner, with his shops so renowned in Chicago, he’s even expanded to Florida where the two of you purchased a beautiful vacation home to escape the harsh winters.

Your Florida home is a stunning two story, three bedroom house that radiates warmth and comfort. The exterior is a blend of sandy beige and soft white, with large windows that allow the bright Florida sun to flood the interior with light. The front yard is warm and inviting, with a swing set for the twins surrounded by lush greenery and vibrant flowers.

On the second floor, the spacious bedrooms each have their own balcony, offering breathtaking views of the surrounding area. The master bedroom’s balcony is your personal oasis, where you watch the sunrise over the ocean with Benny in the mornings.

Inside, the décor is a mix of modern elegance and cozy touches of plush furniture, hardwood floors, and soft, muted tones that create a sense of peace and relaxation.

The first floor is Bennys garage haven filled with his impressive collection of cars and motorcycles. Though he doesn’t ride as often anymore, you still see the flicker of excitement in his eyes when he hears the loud roar of a bike nearby.

Today is no different as you glance out from the second story large pane glass window of the kitchen. You catch Benny’s expression as he listens intently to the sound of a motorcycle that fills the air in the distance, a look of nostalgia and joy lighting up his face.

He’s sitting with his friends by the back yard pool beer in hand. The barbecue is going strong nearby with one of your neighbors tending to the hot dogs on the grill.

“Daddy’s looking at you,” Bella says, her voice full of innocent mischief. You turn away from your task of putting the finishing whisk on the potato salad, crouching down to your daughters level.

“Is he now?” you ask playfully, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she waves at her daddy.

You look up to see Benny gazing at you with that warm, affectionate smile that never fails to make your heart flutter. His hair is longer and a bit sandier blonde from the Florida sun, gently swept back. A handsome mustache now adorns his face, framing his full lips in a way that makes him even more striking.

Suddenly Benny’s eyes light up even more, and he begins to laugh. You follow his line of sight and see your son, Johnny, pressing his face against the glass window, licking it with all the enthusiasm a six year old can muster.

“Johnny!” you call out, half-chiding, half-laughing. He bursts into a fit of giggles, pulling back from the window with a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, you two let’s go see Daddy,” you say, picking up the bowl of potato salad. Bella slips her small hand into yours, and little Johnny follows closely behind, his toy motorcycle clutched in his hand. He drives it along the wall as he walks, making the familiar “brrrrn brrrrr” sound with his little voice, lost in his imagination.

As you reach the landing and turn toward the pool, your neighbors over for the barbecue-b-que wave and smile, the sound of jazz floating through the air from the large outdoor speakers. The neighbors kids are all squealing and running around, their laughter blending with the music. Benny stands up to greet you all, his smile broadening as he kneels to hold Bella, hugging her tight. He ruffles little Johnnys hair before they both run off to join the other children at the party.

You place the potato salad with the rest of the dishes on the long table, looking over the array of delicious food with a satisfied grin. Benny makes his way over to you, his eyes never leaving you. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“I can’t keep my eyes off you in this little dress,” he whispers against your ear, his breath warm and his tone full of affection.

You grin, a playful twinkle in your eye. “You’re insatiable, Benny Cross,” you tease, your voice soft and loving.

“You bring it out of me,” he murmurs back, his words filled with warmth and adoration. He turns you in his arms, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, feeling the strength and comfort of him as he holds you close. Benny leans in, his lips capturing yours in a long, loving kiss. It’s a kiss full of passion and tenderness, a kiss that speaks of the deep love and connection you share.

As his lips move against yours, you feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. His hand slides up your back, holding you gently yet securely, as if you’re the most precious thing in his world. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and he gazes into your eyes with a look of pure, unfiltered love.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice low and full of emotion.

“I love you too, Benny,” you reply, your heart swelling with happiness as you lean in to kiss him again, savoring the taste of his lips and the feel of his arms around you.

🏍️ THE END 🏍️

Special thanks: purejasmine, burnthheparaphilia & butdaddyilovehim99 I couldn’t have done it without you.

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List 🏍️

@finley-08 @ashleybutler-26 @ifuckindontknow @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @autumnleaves1991-blog @presley1992 @rose-deathman @sillylittlethrowaway @lillypink @faephoria @nostalgichoya @ausssbutlershortstories

🏷️ Always Tags Me List 💌 @faegoddessog @lindszeppelin @abswifey @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @unicoreads @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @jkdaddy01 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @gravesdiggergirl

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tikosblogg · 2 months

Text

The Scars We Bare….❤️

Summary: After a traumatic accident leaving your body scarred for life, Noah makes it his mission to remind you of your worth.

Warning: piv sex, unprotected sex(don’t do that), slight choking. Body worship?, mentions of blood, fighting. Let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: This is a little heavier than I usually write about, but I thought it was so sweet. I’m sorry if it’s trash, I wrote this while watching Summer slam🤪

The energy inside our house was insane, the house pulsing with the music and the laughter of friends. the ambiance was alive—a perfect backdrop to celebrate the end of their successful tour. I had always been the glue that held this ragtag bunch together. Growing up alongside Noah, and the guys meant our lives were intertwined in a way that made this party feel like a reunion of sorts, no matter how long we’ve lived together or how often we saw each other while they are on the road.

As I mingled among partygoers, I felt an undeniable sense of pride for these guys who had worked so hard, now basking in the glow of their accomplishments. But tonight wasn’t just about them; it was about me too. I had hopes of taking my relationship with Brent to the next level.

Brent is the first relationship I’ve had since my accident 4 years ago. We have been seeing one another for about a month, and in my gut, I felt tonight could be the night we solidified what we both wanted. Nobody has seen my body since that traumatic day, except for Noah. My family lives out of state, so as soon as I was released from the hospital Noah moved me in here.

He was my rock during the whole ordeal and helped me heal. Our friendship is a special one, that I hold dearly in my heart. He bathed me, cooked for me, cleaned the cuts and incisions on my body everyday. He was the shoulder I cried on, about my insecurities of my forever changed body. Always reminding me that I was beautiful. He has helped more than I think he realizes.

Excusing myself from a lively conversation with Noah and Jolly, I slipped outside to check on Brent. The cool air hit my skin, refreshing yet a little uneasy. I dialed his number, only to be met with an annoyance I couldn’t quite place. "I've been here for the past 45 minutes," he huffed, the edge in his voice making me flinch.

My stomach twisted as he gave me his location. I ended the call, worry gnawing at the edges of my mind. What had gone wrong? He’s never sounded so annoyed with me. I shook it off and decided to find him, determined not to let it ruin our night.

When I finally spotted him, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face, my heart sank. Why did he look so displeased? I swept in for a hug, wrapping my arms around his body, hoping to draw out a little warmth. He hesitated for just a moment before returning the embrace, but the spark I had anticipated was absent.

"Hey! Glad you made it," I chirped, forcing a smile even as a twinge of frustration bubbled within me. He didn't reply, only allowed me to grab his hand and lead him inside.

As we entered, I could feel the vibrant energy shift slightly. The laughter and chatter continued, but the warmth of the party felt overshadowed by the tension emanating from Brent. I introduced him to the guys Noah, Jolly, Folio, and Nick—all of whom were mingling and laughing, filling the air with their unique energy. However, I noticed something peculiar: the way the guys eyed Brent, especially Noah. There was a hint of concern in his gaze, the kind that screamed, I’m onto you.

Ignoring the unspoken judgment from my friends, I pulled Brent closer, trying to ignite that spark between us. We stood there, surrounded by music and laughter, yet he seemed distant, his smile faltering as the guys began to chatter amongst themselves.

“Everything alright?” I whispered, leaning closer to him. I wanted an opening, a doorway into whatever was bothering him. But he merely shrugged, his gaze wandering, refusing to engage. I softly grasped Brent’s hand, politely excusing us from the group. I led him through the crowd of party goers, and up the stairs to my room.

As I closed the door behind us, the thumping bass of the party dwindled into a distant murmur, the laughter of friends fading away as I turned to Brent. The vibrant energy of the gathering felt worlds away, and the four walls of my bedroom suddenly wrapped around us like a protective barrier.

“Brent,” I started, my voice wavering slightly. “I’m really sorry if I overwhelmed you back there. I just wanted you to meet my friends. They’re like family to me.” I stepped closer, finding comfort in the small space between us. “I like how you’re different from everyone else,” I reassured him, reaching to cup his face. “I want you with me, Brent. I really like you, and I was hoping tonight could be something more.”

At last, he looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wasted no more time, and leaned in and captured my mouth with his. The kiss ignited something deep inside me; I melted into him, the world beyond my bedroom eclipsed in a frenzy of sensation. But then, as he pushed me down onto the bed, his body pressing into mine, I felt a rush of vulnerability sweep over me.

His lips were a warm trail, moving from my mouth and down the length of my neck. Nervousness coiled in my stomach, mingling with the thrill of it all. What if he hates the scars? But I shushed that voice; if Brent liked me, he would accept all of me, flaws and histories included.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes dark with desire, he removed his shirt, revealing his toned body. I felt my pulse quicken. The intimacy of the moment escalated as he reached for mine. But then, as the fabric glided off my skin, a sudden silence enveloped us. Brent froze, his expression shifting from desire to something unreadable as his eyes traced the long scar running down my chest, then mapping the smaller scars scattered along my ribs and stomach.

“Are you okay?” I paused, my heart pounding painfully against my rib cage as I reached up, uncertain and vulnerable.

The moment hung heavy in the air; he shook his head vehemently, climbing off me so quickly that the sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill racing down my spine. I sat up, confusion flooding my senses. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Brent stood there, the remnants of our intimacy dissolving between us. He tugged his shirt back on, the fabric crumpling around his torso, and ran a hand through his hair, the gesture laced with frustration. “Why do you have scars all over you?” His voice was low, a mix of concern and discomfort.

As the words spilled from my lips, the weight of the memory resurfaced. “I was in a bad car crash four years ago. I had to have open heart surgery,” I explained, trying to keep my tone steady. I watched the color drain from his face, his brows knitting together in discomfort.

A long sigh escaped him, heavy and laden with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s...bad. I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as if trying to clear it.

“It makes me feel… kind of squeamish to touch them” he admitted, his eyes glancing away, avoiding the testament of my past etched upon my skin.

My heart plummeted, the weight of rejection crashing down upon me like a tidal wave. I had let the hope and excitement build, only for it to crumble in an instant under the realization that my trauma had repelled him.

“I think we should just end it here. sorry,” he added, almost mechanically, before turning to leave the room. The sound of the party resumed its vibrancy, a stark reminder of the dissonance between our worlds.

I watched him walk out, feeling an emptiness settle into my chest. The door slammed behind him, and I sank back into the bed, wrapping my arms around myself as if trying to shield those scars from the world. Noah, My friends, my family—they had embraced me, scars and all. Why couldn’t Brent?

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. My thoughts spiraled, wondering if my scars were always going to be a barrier, a reminder of a past I couldn’t erase. The party continued downstairs, but all I felt was the silence of my room enveloping me, a somber echo of what had just transpired.

I finally stood from my bed, my body shaking with each sob leaving my mouth. I walked straight into my bathroom, insistent on washing his touch, and this night from my tattered body.

Noah stood with Jolly and Nick, their voices a distant murmur, but his attention had drifted. His eyes were locked on the staircase that you’d just walked up with Brent. There was something about Brent—a way he carried himself, a cocky swagger that made his skin crawl. He didn’t like the guy, not one bit.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah’s unease was proven justified. Brent stomped down the stairs, his expression unfazed and arrogant. He brushed past Noah and the others, heading straight for the kitchen. Noah tilted his head, a knot tightening in his stomach. Where were you? He silently decided to confront Brent.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Noah maneuvered himself silently, standing a few steps behind Brent’s shorter stature. He was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with some random dude whose name Noah didn’t care to know. Eavesdropping came naturally to him; he would justify anything if it meant looking out for you.

His heart raced when Brent’s laughter cut through the air. “Yeah, I was about to get laid,” he sneered, “until I saw her mangled scars. who the fuck would want to touch that?”

The breath in Noah’s lungs turned hot and escaped his body, choking him as Brent's words sank in. His fists clenched tightly, and he felt the world around him shatter. He could almost hear your voice, the way you’d always brushed off your past with a smile, how brave you were in the face of your demons. But Brent—he had the audacity to belittle you. That was it. Brent had fucked up.

Suddenly, the current conversation shifted; the guy noticed Noah standing there, confusion flickering across his face. It alerted Brent, and he turned around, the mocking grin fading as he saw the fury etched on Noah’s features.

“What’s your problem, man?” Brent started, but Noah didn’t give him a chance to finish. With swift motion, Noah reared back and swung, his fist connecting hard with Brent’s face. The impact sent Brent flying backward, crashing against the counter, glass bottles tumbling to the ground in a cacophony of shattering chaos.

Loud gasps erupted from the partygoers outside the kitchen, a wave of shock sweeping through the crowd. Brent scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip, rage igniting his eyes. But it was too late to back down. Noah launched himself at Brent, tackling him to the ground, a flurry of punches raining down on him, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for you.

“Get off me, you psycho!” Brent shouted, trying to push Noah away. The struggle was chaotic, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and outrage. Just as Noah readied another blow, Jolly charged in, pulling Noah back with surprising strength.

“Noah, stop!” Jolly shouted, his grip firm as he held Noah at bay. “What happened!”

Noah was seething, panting heavily as he glared down at Brent, who was trying to push himself back up, shaking with anger and disbelief. “Get the fuck out of my house,” Noah growled, his voice low and menacing.

Brent’s eyes widened, the cockiness draining from his face. He looked around, seeing the eyes of the few witnesses, the trepidation in Jolly’s grip, and the fire behind Noah’s glare.

With a rage still shimmering in his veins, Brent muttered something under his breath, stumbling out of the kitchen and pushing past a few confused guests. As the tension dissipated, the music seemed to swell once again, an unsettling backdrop to the upheaval that had just occurred.

Noah, freed from Jolly’s hold, took a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline of the fight slowly beginning to wane, replaced by a deep concern for you. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of the scene he just created; all he could think of was you and how he could protect you from people like Brent. The real battle would be making sure you knew how much you were worth, scars and all.

The steam curled and twisted upwards like tendrils of a ghost, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and moisture, yet I felt anything but comforted. My sobs echoed against the bathroom tiles, reverberating with the music of the party that throbbed beneath me. Laughter and music pulsed through the floorboards, but they were alien sounds in this moment, distant and muffled, a reminder of a world I felt unfit to join.

With trembling hands, I wiped my tears away, attempting to compose myself. “Y/n?” A soft voice echoed through the bathroom, as my breath hitched. “I’m fine,” I called out weakly, trying to sound more convincing than I felt, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. Just as I braced for another wave of tears, the shower door opened and Noah stepped in.

his clothes still on, clinging to him like a second skin. His arms wrapped around me, and I melted against him, the warmth radiating from his body bringing some semblance of solace. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. The gentle thump soothed me as I softly cried into his chest, his hand combing through my damp hair, as if he could weave away my pain with each passing stroke.

It took a moment to gather my composure, but when I finally pulled back to look at him, I noticed the water swirling around our feet, tinted a soft pink. Panic flared within me as I glanced down at his hands, noticing the cuts marring his knuckles. “Noah, what happened?” My heart raced at the thought of him getting hurt.

His response was almost too casual, a hint of bravado underneath the weight of his words. “I beat Brent’s fucking ass.” The smile that flickered onto my face was unexpected, born from a blend of relief and admiration. I laid my forehead against him, the warmth of his body a protective barrier against the world below.

Noah was gentle, taking the shampoo from the rack and lathering it into my hair, his fingertips pressing against my scalp in a way that felt simultaneously tender and powerful. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, letting him wash away not just the remnants of the night, but the anguish that had been clawing at my heart.

He grabbed my loofah, and bodywash, bathing me next. Sending me back 4 years ago, when he did this for me everyday. Once the water turned off, he wrapped a towel around me, the fabric covering me in warmth as he stripped off his wet clothes, every inch of my cheeks heating more at the sight. He returned, focused, practical, and somehow that made my heart swell. Lifting me effortlessly onto the counter, he took the cotton pad and my makeup remover, carefully cleaning away the smudged remnants of the night while stealing glances at me, gauging my reactions.

The simplicity of his gestures, the kindness radiating from each one, made my insides flutter. He was mending not just the mess on my face but the turmoil inside me too. When he disappeared momentarily and returned with one of his old t-shirts and a pair of my underwear, I felt a warmth. He pressed the towel into my skin, drying me off with an intense focus that made me feel seen, cherished.

He pulled the tshirt over my head, before slipping my underwear up my legs. I carefully lifted my hips from the counter, so he could pull them up over my hips. The deep scary feelings I’ve tried to bury for the past few years, slowly making their appearance.

Once I was dressed, he took my hairbrush and began to detangle my hair with the ease, each stroke a reminder of how he understood me, how he always knew how to take care of me when the world felt too heavy. I watched him in the mirror—his brow furrowed with concentration, his lips pressed together in determination.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice softer than the droplets of water still clinging to the tiles. He met my gaze, kindness dancing in his eyes.

“No need,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I’ll always be here for you.” The thudding of my heart, beat wildly against my chest. Our eyes stuck in a heated stare down, waiting to see which of caved first. His hand slowly lifted to cup my cheek. His thumb softly rubbed against my cheek, as he leaned in the tiniest bit closer.

“Noah..” I breathed, my voice just above a whisper. The uncertainty that once filled his brown eyes, were now gone. Filled with a darkness, that I was more than ready to fall into. His lips finally connected to mine in a simple kiss. Almost as if testing the waters.

He pulled away for only a moment, before his other hand slob into my hair, pulling me in for another kiss. He didn’t hold back, as he squeezed himself between my thighs, attacking my lips with so much force. His tongue entered my mouth, as he groaned at the taste of me.

I whimpered against his lips, wanting, needing more of him. He pulled away again, resting his forehead against mine as we both panted. “I love you so fucking much y/n, and I’m tired of fighting it.” He shook his head, before pecking my lips again.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his naked waist pulling him flush against me. “I love you too Noah.” I smiled softly up at him. He grabbed my thighs, wrapping them around him, before lifting me off the counter, and walking us over the threshold back into my room.

He softly dropped me onto the bed, as grabbed him hand pulling him on top of me. I grabbed the towel still wrapped around him, and pulled it loose. He smirked down at me, before reaching up and pushing my hair off my face. “Are you sure about this?”

My eyes flew back up to his before I nodded my head. “I’m positive Noah….please.” Without another word, he leaned down catching my lips into another kiss. As he kissed me, his hand trailed up my thigh, pushing it back and spreading me open.

His tongue slid in my mouth, as his fingers carefully moved my panties over before sinking two of them into me. I moaned against his mouth, as he pulled away smiling. “You sound so pretty baby.” His voice was low, and rough. I whimpered, as I softly bucked my hips into it.

After a few more thrusts he pulled his fingers out, sticking them in his mouth pulling them out with a groan. “And you taste even better.” He lifted himself off of me, grabbing the hem of my shirt.

He slowly pulled it off as I laid underneath him, a rush of warmth and trepidation surging through me. The lamp light in my room, casted a golden hue on everything in the room. It felt as if the world outside had ceased to exist—a serene bubble where only the two of us resided.

Even though Noah had seen my scars a million times before, an insidious wave of insecurity washed over me. As his gaze drifted over the pink lines that traced my skin, I couldn’t help but hold my breath.

A shaky exhale escaped my lips, a reflection of my nerves. Noah, always attuned to my feelings, noticed immediately. His eyes softened, filled with a understanding that spoke volumes. He leaned down, and before I could fully process what was happening, I felt the warmth of his tongue glide along the long scar that ran down my chest between my breasts. An unexpected jolt of pleasure coursed through me, mingled with vulnerability.

He continued his descent, his lips softly placing tender kisses upon each of my scars. With every touch, he seemed to dissolve the doubts that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I could feel each light brush of his lips, each gentle kiss, healing parts of me I thought were beyond repair.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against my skin, his voice barely above a breath. The words lingered in the air, wrapping around my heart like a soothing balm. It surprised me how true they felt, even after what happened tonight. He looked up, deep into my eyes, his sincerity gleaming like a beacon in the dim lighting.

My pulse raced, and from deep within me, the knots of self-doubt began to unravel. Noah had a way of making me feel seen, as if he could peer into my soul and appreciate every scar etched into it. Each imperfection, every faint line was an emblem of survival, milestones of resilience—but in that moment, they felt less like burdens and more like beautiful parts of my story.

He returned to my lips, kissing me softly, allowing the heat and intimacy of our connection to wash over us. I melted into him, giving in to the moment, and for the first time, I felt as if I could shed my insecurities, if only for a while.

He grabbed the sides of my underwear, pulling them off. He laid back onto me before kissing me hotly, and taking no time to slowly push into me. I gasped, digging my nails into his back at the burning stretch. He grabbed my jaw softly bringing my eyes to his. “Are you okay baby?”

I nodded, lifting my head to kiss his lips. I softly bit on his bottom lip, pulling on it softly. He grunted, as his hips roughly snapped against mine. “Please Noah…” I whined, pulling him into me. He lifted up, caging my head in between his arms. He stared down at me, as he pounded into me mercilessly.

“Fuck baby you feel so good” he groaned, above me. The pleasure on his face made me feral. I dug my heel into the mattress, using all my force to flip our bodies over. His eyes widened in shock, as huge grin formed on his lips. “Fuck baby, you gonna ride me?” He almost whimpered.

My pussy throbbed at his words. Having my big tatted mainly best friend whimpering underneath was not something I ever imagined, but am so fucking lucky to experience. I leaned down, trailing kisses down his throat while he groaned. I leaned back up, grabbing his dick, and hovering back over it.

We both let out low groans, as I sank back down. “Fuck Noah you’re so big.” I whined, slowly rocking my hips back forth. “Yeah?” He breathed, gripping my hips tightly. I nodded my head, placing my hands against his chest.

He groaned at my sluggish pace, as I smirked down at him, enjoying my teasing game. After a few minutes, he was done with my teasing. His hand shot up, wrapping around my throat. He pulled me down until our noses were touching, as a cocky smile made its way to his face.

“You really thought I was gonna let you take control?” He growled, brushing his lips against mine. “I-..” my sentence was cut short, as his hips fucked up into me hard and fast. My nails dug into his chest, gripping on for dear life.

His fingers tightened around my throat as he finally connected our lips into a sloppy kiss. Lips, tongues, and teeth clashing. He pushed me back, making me sit up straight on top of him. He reached up, shoving two fingers in my mouth, as I moaned around them, sucking on them hard.

He slowly slid them out, running them down my throat, down my chest and stopping to squeeze my tit. “C’mon baby. You gonna cum for me?” He panted, continuing his decent until his fingers reached my swollen clit.

I threw my head back with a moan, in love with how he was making me feel. I leaned back, placing my hands right above his knees behind me, as I continued riding him. “Fuuuuck…” I groaned as his fingers sped up.

I felt my orgasm rising with each thrust of his hips, and stroke of his fingers. “I’m gonna cum.” I whined, looking down at him. The sight was beautiful. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were parted, as he released ragged breaths.

“C’mon baby give it to me. Cum on my dick.” He groaned finally looking up at me. As soon as we made eye contact, my orgasm shook my body. “Good fucking girl.” He grunted, as he fucked me through it. I huffed, falling onto his chest as thrusted a few more times finally releasing into me with a groan.

We laid there for what felt like hours, catching our breaths just holding each other. He placed a kiss on top of my head, before gently pushing me off onto the bed beside him. He reached down grabbing the towel he wore earlier, and cleaned us off.

Once we were clean he grabbed my comforter, pulling it over us. He pulled me into his arms, as I snuggled deep into his chest. “I love you so much y/n. You’re the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. I will spend every minute proving that to you from now on. Please don’t let some dick head make you think differently.”

I felt my eyes well up with tears again, as I placed a gentle kiss to the middle of his chest. “I love you.”

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sabastian smut #badomensimagines #noahsebastiancult #bad omens cult #imagines #bad omens band #bad omens smut #nick folio #joakim jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo

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itsswritten · 6 months

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when the sea calls for three | 2

Pairings: Azriel x Reader x Eris

Words: 5.1K

<<Previous Part | Masterlist | Summary

Summer Court

As the gentle sea breeze caressed your face, the soothing sound of waves crashing against the shore enveloped your senses. With eyes closed, you allowed yourself to be immersed in the tranquillity of the ocean, feeling a sense of home wash over you.

You missed the ocean, Dawn’s cities weren’t on the coast. Mainly inland, with dense red roofed buildings. Often you would take trips to visit the shoreline, get closer to that salty air that spoke sweet whispers to you. You wondered why your family hadn’t chosen Summer over Dawn, given your heritage. No, instead your family had settled hundreds of years ago within the walls of Dawn. Still, a beautiful choice.

Suddenly, a presence appeared beside you, you could sense and smell him without needing to open your eyes. Perhaps it was the way he smelt of the ocean too that made him so familiar. Tarquin stood beside you, his figure outlined against the backdrop of the sparkling sea. His dark skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, and his hair, a striking silver-white, caught the light as it cascaded around his shoulders.

"I thought I could sense it, you are a child of the sea," Tarquin remarked, a warm smile gracing his features as he finally acknowledged something he had sensed in your earlier meeting.

"That is somewhat true," you mused, gaze still fixed on the vast expanse of ocean before you. Your kinship with the sea was a connection that ran deep.

"It explains why I felt so comfortable around you," Tarquin continued, his smile widening as he spoke. You knew of his abilities, his affinity for water manipulation.

“Like calls to like” You smiled softly.

You liked the Summer Court. You had made that assumption when you first met Tarquin, and it rang true during your first visit. Adriata exuded a serene beauty, even in the aftermath of conflict. The azure rooftops contrasted elegantly against the pristine white stone, glistening like pearls under the sun's warm embrace.The air was fresh with the lick of the ocean, and its residents were all sun kissed by that glorious beacon in the sky.

Eager to immerse yourself fully in the Summer Court ambiance, you had opted for a slight change of attire, trading your previous garments from the Court meeting for something light, airy, typical of the Summer Court. Your tunic which had been adorned with threaded court symbols was now replaced with a white shirt that still held the motifs on the fabric. Flowing white trousers gracefully pooled around your feet, allowing the gentle sea breeze to caress your skin, providing a welcome respite from the sun's rays.

Tarquin had graciously arranged for your accommodation within the palace, situating your quarters conveniently close to Cressida, with whom you had been working closely with during your brief stay. Together with Tarquin and the royal siblings, you convened in a secluded office to address the concerns voiced by the Summer Court's inhabitants.

The submitted requests predominantly revolved around the loss of homes, the devastation caused by the war, and the collective hope for recovery and resilience. Pooling your collective knowledge and resources, the four of you meticulously strategize the most effective measures to support and uplift the people of the Summer.

However, you understood that true healing would require patience and perseverance. Perhaps what the people of Prythian needed most was to feel heard and understood on a larger scale, with you and Lucien as their appointed emissaries serving as their advocates.

Spending the majority of the second day immersing yourself in the community of Adriata, you couldn't ignore the overall feeling of sadness. The lingering scars of war still cast a shadow over the court, underscoring the urgent need to rebuild and restore a sense of security and happiness among its residents.

Despite their resilience, Adriata seemed to have borne the brunt of the conflict, second perhaps only to the turmoil in Tamlin's court. You were determined to offer whatever assistance you could, recognising the challenges they faced in comparison to other courts.

Your efforts to connect with the townspeople were met with initial hesitation, yet you sensed a glimmer of kinship, perhaps they could tell you were one of the same like Tarquin recognised. It only took a few hours before you had residents crying on your shoulder and children running around your feet, tugging you left and right begging for you to prioritise rebuilding a park that had been destroyed.

The weight of your role as emissary of peace became increasingly apparent. You weren’t just an Emissary of peace, but you were the emissary of the people– something that felt heavier in weight. A weight you were happy to shoulder.

You could feel it in your chest, that pride that seemed to swell at your newfound duty. Realising how you could make an impact.

And so you promised to yourself, and silently towards the vast ocean that you would always listen to those who sought out your help.

"Your people seem somewhat deflated," you observed, your voice carrying a touch of empathy as you turned your gaze back to Tarquin. "Your court, your palace, your people... they've endured so much loss."

Tarquin nodded solemnly, "Yes, the scars of war run deep," he agreed, his eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for hope. "But we are resilient, and with the support of the likes of you, I believe we can rebuild and thrive once more."

You offered him a reassuring smile, your confidence bolstered. "It's a priority to restore not just the physical aspects of your court, but also the spirit of your people," you affirmed, your voice brimming with conviction. "To ensure they not only feel safe but also find happiness in their home once again."

You understood the importance of nurturing the well-being of those under your care, of bringing light to the darkest corners and hope to weary hearts. "...With our collective efforts, I have no doubt that we can return Summer to all its glory," you declared, your words infused with determination.

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your lips. Every word you spoke you truly believed.

Tarquin's gaze softened as he met your eyes, a flicker of admiration dancing in his gaze. "Your optimism is contagious," he remarked, a hint of appreciation colouring his tone. "It's refreshing to have someone like you by my side, someone who sees the potential for greatness even in our darkest moments."

“A flame will always appear brighter in the shadows…” you mused.

With that, the two of you exchanged a meaningful look, a silent vow passing between you.

༄

Night Court

You arrived at River House promptly, noting the late morning meeting time with an understanding that it was typical for the Night Court. Unlike the bustling activity you were accustomed to at Dawn, Velaris seemed eerily quiet during those early hours. You had always risen with the sun, risen at dawn. It seemed your body clock may have to change during your visits here. As you prowled through the streets, hoping to connect with some of its residents, you found them few and far between. A handful of market owners setting up stalls offered brief introductions, but for the most part, the city felt deserted, as if it were a ghost town.

Welcomed into the grand foyer by a member of staff, you waited calmly, your gaze sweeping over the opulent surroundings. Your eyes lingered on the large circular table at the centre of the room, with a large display of flowers in the middle. You gently leaned forward, eyes closing as you inhaled the sweet scent before taking in the rest of the room. The twin curved staircases that ascended gracefully upwards, adorned with paintings of the inner circle on the walls.

Cute. You mused.

You knew of Feyre’s affinity for art and painting, Lucien had filled you in and you’d done your own research too. You would not be coming into this setting blind.

Your eyes drifted over the portraits of Rhys and Feyre's family, each figure rendered in exquisite detail. Among them, your gaze settled on an image that felt oddly familiar, it was your pen pal. But as you gazed at the details it felt as though you were looking at someone you knew well, there was a simmering beneath your skin.

Why did he feel so familiar?

Captured with remarkable precision by Feyre's skilled hand, his hazel eyes bore into you from beneath the layers of paint. Their intensity, almost unnerving yet strangely captivating.

Why were you so drawn to him?

Multiple footsteps echoed through the marble floors, prompting you to delicately brush down your tunic, ensuring it lay perfectly to display the intricate symbols of the courts. The tunic was one of the same from the previous meeting, but instead of silver being the base you had commissioned another version. A dark charcoal, a nod to the night court. And you have to say the designs really did pop against the smoky backdrop.

As Rhysand and Feyre entered the foyer, their presence commanded attention, followed closely by three more figures. Among them, you recognised Azriel instantly, his piercing gaze locking onto yours.

It was the second time today that his eyes had ensnared your attention.

Cassian and Nesta followed suit, their identities obvious from Lucien's descriptions.

Azriel took you in, digesting your new look. One he couldn’t deny he liked. He enjoyed seeing you in Night Court colours– his colours.

“Welcome, y/n,” Feyre greeted with a warm smile.

"Your home is beautiful. Thank you for letting me stay here," you replied graciously, returning her smile.

A shadowy fae had swiftly taken your bags moments ago, her disappearing in silence with your belongings. You assumed she was taking them to your room.

“I just thought with us working so closely together, you being close made more sense,” Feyre explained. Despite the weight of this new chapter bearing down on the entire court, Feyre had decided to spearhead this herself. She was taking the lead, determined to prove her worth as High Lady to her people and all of Prythian.

Feyre then proceeded to introduce Cassian and Nesta. You nodded at them with a polite smile, “And of course you already know Azriel” Feyre spoke.

“Hmm I do” you hummed gently on your lips, the words rolling off in a quiet melody that seemed to make Azriel’s shadows vibrate. If you hadn’t been so enraptured by his gaze you might have noticed the smirks playing on Rhy’s and Cassian’s lips as they glanced over at the exchange.

One of Azriel’s shadows had found itself under your flowing trousers, swirling around your ankle like a gentle breeze. You wondered if Azriel knew of how fond his little minions were of you.

How they often stayed longer than necessary between correspondences, how they liked to play with your hair or how they would always dance when you hummed. Leaving them reluctant to ever leave.

You wondered if they had told him that, you also wondered what he told them.

The Inner Circle graciously showed you around the River House, leading you to the room where you would be staying during your visits. Your belongings for your short trip, already unpacked and hung in the wardrobe.

Finally, you all congregated in a large office that had been designated for your use during your visits. The office was spacious, with a large table dominating the centre of the room. You settled into a seat, surrounded by the others, who were all ready to assist you in your duties.

As part of your new role, you and Lucien had initiated a proposition allowing people from across Prythian to submit their concerns, feelings, and issues. You had worked through Summer’s submissions during your visit, as Lucien was also doing with the courts under his care. Rhys conjured multiple stacks of pages onto the table with a simple click of his finger, each page representing a submission from individuals within the Night Court.

There had to be thousands. Thank the stars Feyre had enlisted the help of her inner circle, otherwise you’re not sure the both of you would have made it through them all in one day.

You couldn't help but widen your eyes at the sight, the sheer volume of submissions taking you by surprise. Tarquin's court had been demanding, but the Night Court's submissions seemed to dwarf them in comparison.

Rhys and Feyre exchanged a glance, a hint of embarrassment colouring their expressions.

You could hear their concerns in the pauses of their breaths– Had they not been effectively managing their court? Were their people dissatisfied?

Feyre looked disheartened.

"This is a general submission, covering various concerns about the peace treaty, border movements, and trade agreements," you explained gently, seeking to alleviate any tension in the room. "It's commendable that your people feel comfortable expressing their feelings. We can't address issues if people choose to remain silent."

Feyre visibly relaxed at your words, and with that, the six of you began the arduous task of sorting through the requests, categorising them based on their content.

You’re not sure how much time had passed before light conversation spread across the room. Cassian huffing and puffing at how quickly everyone else was reading through requests, while he’d only made it through three.

Azriel was opposite you, flicking through the documents meticulously. Every now and then his gaze lingering on you before moving back to the task at hand. His shadows silently helping, by moving pages to their correct piles.

You wanted his shadows to help you. You knew if you’d asked them, they’d happily oblige. They were quite forthcoming during your correspondences, but you kept your mouth sealed and worked through the pages alone.

There had been an underlying theme to the Night Court’s residents' concerns. Similar to how Summer collectively were worried about the physical rebuilding of their home, the Night Court had their own collective issue.

They didn’t want the borders to open. They didn’t want to share Velaris.

You’re not particularly surprised, Velaris had been a secret city for years. It’s inhabitants were concerned for their safety, but of course it had also bred a rhetoric of exclusivity. They didn’t want ‘outsiders’ in their home.

Feyre seemed to become more and more uncomfortable as the pile regarding border restrictions continued to grow. You could tell Rhys was trying to comfort her, most likely through that magical mating bond– but he was failing.

“They’re pushing back Rhys…” The words left Feyre’s lips sadly. Despite how progressive Rhysand and Feyre wanted to be in this new chapter, that didn’t mean their people felt the same.

Velaris, Hewn City, the Ilyarians. Everything was so segregated, you weren’t surprised in the slightest that this type of mentality had grown.

“People are scared of what they don’t know..” You glanced up to Feyre, who was looking at you now. As were all the members of the table.

“The people of Velaris won’t be the only ones who may have reservations” You continued, laying the paper in your hand back onto the table.

“So did Tarquins people also feel this way?” Feyre asked, you could hear the desperation in her words.

Please tell me it’s not just my people who are being this hostile.

You tilted your head slightly, your lips forming a tight line. “Every court will differ in their issues… Summer’s concerns were not the same as yours.”

You knew that wasn’t what Feyre wanted to hear, her mate pulled her gently into him to press a reassuring kiss on her temple. Rhys pulled away, his expression turning serious as he narrowed his gaze on you.

“What are we doing wrong?” he asked, the weight of his question palpable in the room. The High Lord was essentially asking you where he and his family were failing. It wasn’t an easy question to address, but it seemed he wanted constructive criticism.

You rolled your shoulders back as you measured the tension in the room. Sometimes criticism could be hard to digest. Intertwining your fingers you placed your hands on the table in front of you.

“I appreciate you’ve done what you had to in order to protect your court,” you began cautiously, feeling the burning stares of all five of them on you.

But you wouldn’t let them deter you. This was a part of your job.

You continued, “But I believe there are some detrimental damages that have occurred because of it.”

You felt Nesta fold her arms beside you, and noticed how Cassian fidgeted in his seat. They were not enjoying this.

“Your people are segregated,” you said, stating the uncomfortable truth. “If you are deemed worthy enough, you can live in Velaris. If not, you are trapped in Hewn.” you emphasised this by bringing one hand to the left and your other to the right, as if metaphorically representing the two cities you mentioned.

"But that’s not how it is,” Cassian interjected, his tone defensive.

You continued, unwavering. “And then the Illyrians get the freezing mountains? You must be able to see what it looks like, you must be able to understand how it may feel to be a citizen of Hewn or an Illyrian, and look at Velaris wondering why you are not able to be a part of this.”

“Perhaps even feel you are not worthy enough to be part of this. It not only breeds an elitist mindset for the citizens of Velaris but the resentment the inhabitants Hewn city harbour must be tenfold”

Cassian's demeanour shifted, growing more defensive. “You don’t understand, that’s how it has always been. Everything we’ve done, the sacrifices we’ve made were all for the greater good.”

“Every court, every person has had to make sacrifices. Let’s not sit here and start tallying, as you will be quickly humbled to realise it is not the Night Court that has lost the most,” you countered, feeling the tension in the room rise. “Nor shall sacrifice be used as a just excuse when something is not right.”

Azriel gave Cassian a subtle look, urging him to calm down.

Taking a breath, you spoke softer this time “I’m not here to judge, we can’t change what has happened. But I won’t mince my words. The way this court has existed has allowed only a certain group to prosper, and that is a problem.”

"Feyre, if you truly wish for humans to live in your court in harmony with Fae, if you want your borders to open and those who wish to travel and move freely, then things will have to change," you emphasised, your tone earnest yet firm. "If the Fae of this land can't already coexist among each other, then I don't know how opening borders or integrating humans will even be feasible."

Feyre's eyes met yours, a flicker of realisation crossing her features as she absorbed your words. It was clear that your statement had struck a chord with her.

“Then what do you propose we do, Miss Emissary of Peace?” Azriel’s question hung heavy in the air, his eyes searching yours for a solution. But it felt like a challenge.

While Cassian’s opposition had been obvious, Azriel, ever the Spymaster, had been quiet in his disagreement. He equally hadn’t been fond of the way you challenged his High Lord and Lady’s reign, but he wanted to test you. See if that sharp wit he had encountered in your correspondence could actually follow through to something more than words.

You paused, feeling the weight of Azriel's gaze on you.

Then you turned to the head of the table “Your son,” Feyre paused, a flicker of concern crossing her face at the mention of her child. “He is of studying age?”

Feyre nodded, Rhys giving you a scrutinising look. “He has tutors, yes.”

You looked at the Shadowsinger again, your eyes narrowing as your lips quipped at the edges. You would pass his test.

“I propose a school. A school for the children of Velaris, the children of Hewn,” you said, casting a meaningful glance at Cassian, “and the Illyrian children.”

At once, objections erupted around the table. Voices clamoured, expressing doubts about Illyrian participation and concerns over mingling different communities. How only High Fae had ever been the ones to have access to education, and that other groups would most likely not even care. But your focus remained on Feyre, sensing a glimmer of interest in her eyes.

“I know how stubborn people can be, how set in their ways they become over time,” you continued, addressing the room. “So we start with the children. We show them how positive change can be. Myself and Lucein both agreed adopting a human education system would be really beneficial here in Prythian. Your court is currently the only one with the means and resources.”

Despite the protests of those around the table, Feyre remained locked on your words so you continued. Knowing exactly what you needed to say to win her favour.

“I believe every child has a right to learn, to read and write, and a chance at an education. A place they can go to where they are safe, where they will be heard. A place where they can make friends, and…I guess after all this suffering and loss, shouldn’t we give all children an opportunity to just be kids?”

The room was silent now, Rhys tilted his head with a small smirk while Feyre beside him leaned forward. Cassian had gone silent too, your words silencing any oppositions he may have had. Even Nesta seemed to be reflecting on your proposition.

It was Azriel who offered you a gentle smile, all though his gaze was still dark. You had passed then. His silent test.

“A school for all children, it would be the first of its kind in all of Prythian.” Feyre beamed, looking at her mate with a glowing expression. “And maybe we could eventually welcome the humans too…and anyone else who wanted to join.”

You nodded in agreement, your vision now becoming a shared dream with the High Lady.

“I love it,” Feyre sang, her enthusiasm contagious. “But the guys are right, the people won’t agree.”

Rhys leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “Perhaps,” he began, his voice measured, “but we can't afford to let fear and resistance dictate our actions. This is about shaping the future of our court, for all of Prythian. Fostering unity, and breaking down barriers that have long divided us.”

As chatter filled the room, you felt any lingering tension roll off your shoulders. Another successful decision was made, one that would undoubtedly surprise Lucien when he heard about it. You had gotten the Night Court to agree to opening a school on your first day, a proposal that had originally been a part of a five year plan.

Oh, the satisfaction of being able to gloat about this when you next saw Lucie.

Feyre excitedly began to discuss curriculum, subjects that would appeal to all communities. Of course she was quick to advocate that Art classes had to be a priority, and Cassian had joined in, declaring if the Ilyarins were to ever let their children attend school some kind of defensive fighting class would have to exist. Nesta was surprisingly quick to suggest Literature, the mention of the subject blazing something alight in her eyes.

“Do you always get what you want?” Azirel asked smoothly, his question going unnoticed by his busy family.

You smirked, your gaze softening on him “Always.”

༄

You don’t belong here.

The ocean doesn’t want you, we don’t want you.

Sharp talons were clawing at your skin, dragging you down to the oceans floor.

Drown, half breed. Why won’t you drown.

Dirty blood.

There’s no home for you here.

You awaken abruptly, your heart pounding in your chest, the remnants of fear lingering like a ghost. Gasping for air, you instinctively clutch at your throat, as if the claws of your nightmares still linger there.

Ready to drag you back down to the dark void of the oceans bed.

But it wasn’t real.

No, it had been real once though. Now a distant memory.

You lay there, trying to steady your breathing. It had been years since that particular nightmare plagued your sleep. It had haunted your younger years, a relentless spectre that would always find a way to creep into your dreams.

But with time, with age, you had managed to push it aside, burying it deep within the recesses of your mind.

Yet, tonight it had resurfaced with a vengeance. Perhaps it was the discussion of differences earlier in the day that had dredged up those buried fears. The submissions filled with divisive words like ‘other’, ‘outsiders’ and ‘them’ had struck a nerve, tapping into the lingering insecurities you were sure you’d grown out of.

But being 'other' was something you had become accustomed to. It was a label you had carried with you your entire life, never quite fitting in there, never fitting in here. Always straddling the line between worlds.

The land and the ocean.

You take a moment to steal a glance towards the window, greeted by the sight of the night sky, its darkness punctuated only by the twinkling stars and the soft glow of the moon. It was still night. Yet, you were wide awake. And knowing your hosts as late risers, you had a lot of time to kill.

With a sigh, you slip out of the large bed and reach for a robe hanging by the washroom. Its smooth black silk drapes elegantly around you, not wanting to leave the room in merely a night gown. Although you doubted anyone would be awake at this hour.

The need for fresh air beckons, guiding your steps towards the balcony that adjoins the living room you had explored earlier. As you step outside, a gentle breeze caresses your skin. Taking a seat in the plush couch, you find yourself mesmerised by the panoramic view of Velaris before you. The city sprawls out in all its glory, its enchanting beauty captivating even in the darkness of night.

Before you even have a chance to fully immerse yourself in the moment, a cup and pot of tea materialise in front of you, seemingly conjured by the magic of the manor. With a grateful smile, you pour yourself a cup of the steaming liquid, relishing in its comforting warmth.

It's only a matter of moments before you sensed his presence. You instinctively knew it was him. His shadows singing a whisper that you don’t even think he had been able to hear.

"You going to lurk there all night?" you tease with a playful smile, but you don’t turn to him. Your eyes fixed on the city across the river, while you sip quietly on your drink.

Azriel, perhaps surprised that you noticed him, joins you sitting at your side. His expression is tired, his usually sharp features softened by weariness. You wonder if he, too, wrestles with his own nightmares and torments that keep him awake at night.

"I understand why you did it," you speak softly, gesturing towards the city below. "It's beautiful, worth protecting. I hope you all didn't feel attacked by my observations earlier."

Azriel offers a small, understanding smile. "You have quite a sharp tongue, but you spoke the truth."

You sat with his words for a while, silence filling the air while he poured himself a cup of tea once the house had conjured him a cup.

“You always had the intention of proposing a school didn’t you?” Azriel's inquiry was direct, his eyes probing for the truth.

“It’s something Lucien and I had discussed," you admitted, meeting his gaze steadily. "We believed this court would be the most suitable place. While I hadn’t planned on suggesting it today, the solution seemed fitting given the circumstances.” As you spoke, you realised Azriel was closer than you initially thought, his presence radiating warmth beside you that almost made you move in closer to share that heat.

“But ultimately, the plan is broader," you continued. "We envision schools across Prythian, freely accessible to those who wish to attend. Schools for the littlings, and perhaps even universities for those seeking higher education. It’s a long-term plan, but I believe it could be the perfect tie to connect all the courts."

Vassa had mentioned the existence of a university on the continent, catering to humans in their early adulthood or those seeking to resume their studies. Once you and Lucien had solidified your plan for schools across Prythian, it was Tamlin to whom you proposed the idea of a university. You sensed that his court needed a beacon of hope, something to strive for. Your suggestion had the desired effect, not that you ever had a doubt. But it was how you’d managed to pull Tamlin from his depressive state. Giving him a sense of purpose and direction.

Azriel's expression softened, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "You really have it all planned out."

“Planning can only go so far though…” You paused, your thoughts drifting to the complexities of your role. It wasn’t all rainbows and schools. As if hearing your inner concerns, a cold, gentle caress brushed across your face – his shadows.

Azriel’s eyes widened slightly, watching as his shadows acted autonomously, curling around your hair and kissing your cheek.

"Well, hello, little ones. Have you missed me?" you purred playfully, eliciting a soft vibration of excitement from the shadows as they continued to fuss over you.

A soft melodic laugh left your lips, that had them stirring again.

"They seem to like you," Azriel remarked, his voice tinged with slight disbelief as he watched the shadows' unexpected display of affection.

"What's not to like?" you teased, noticing Azriel's surprise at his shadows' behaviour. "We've grown quite friendly during our correspondences. I might even consider them my friends," you added with a smile, knowing your words would only amplify the shadows' playfulness.

Friend, friend, friend.

They seemed to chant in Azriel’s ear.

“They’ve never acted like this with anyone before…” He whispered, his hand gently reaching forward to you. You didn’t move as he pulled a shadow from your hair, his rough fingers gently grazing past your throat as he did. The small action eliciting goosebumps over your body.

For a brief moment, you could have lost yourself in that delicate interaction, but a realisation dawned upon you. What he had just said was a lie.

“They’ve never acted like this with anyone before”

Lie.

But why would he lie about that? Something so small and trivial.

You could hear it in the unspoken, under his words, what it actually revealed. There had been another.

But who?

Next part >>

a/n: ummm so what do we think? Sorry if the politics are a little boring, just trying to set the plot out! This will be a slow burn, but once it gets going we'll be off for a fab ride (I promise) Also for all my Eris lovers, he'll be coming up in the next part so do not worry - Lottie xx

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