bwiofsavannah-blog

[littlefankingdom]

Originally, Bruce and Dick slept in the same bed.

I like to twist this around: Bruce, being a young parent, was VERY protective and worried about his boy who wants to go fight criminals with him, and it translated into him refusing to let Dick leave his side after difficult nights. Dick is hurt? He is sleeping in Bruce's bed. Dick isn't hurt but it was a close call? He is sleeping in Bruce's bed. Bruce just got scared but Dick was fine? He is sleeping in Bruce's bed. Dick is scared? He is sleeping in Bruce's bed. Of course, this led to Dick also refusing to leave Bruce's side when Bruce gets hurt or could have been hurt, so he also sleeps in Bruce's bed on these nights. And, as he grew up in a circus, always moving around, he is used to sleeping in his parents' arms or very close by, so it's normal for him.

So, Dick is often sleeping in Bruce's bed, cuddled up to Bruce. And as he grows up, he sleeps less and less in Bruce's arms, and he supports less and less Bruce's suffocating anxiety. Finally, he stops completely.

Some events make him wants to crawl back in his dad's bed (his multiple SA, the destruction of Bludhaven, the multiple times he thought Bruce died, etc...), but he never dares to. He is an adult now, and he fears Bruce would have a problem with it. Bruce is also not that welcoming toward physical affection since Jason's death (something Cass fixes, but that's another story). So, Dick doesn’t, even when he craves to.

Until Bruce is send back in time and believed dead. When he comes back, Dick just cannot stop himself, he needs to hold his dad, and he is so afraid Bruce will dissappear if he isn't touching him. He is holding him all evening long, and when it's time for bed, Bruce wordlessly goes to sleep holding Dick with one arm, the other around Tim. (Damian isn't close enough to Bruce yet to dare come sleep with them, Cass is in Hong-Kong, but she is jumping on a plane and will join the sleep-cuddle pile, Jason isn't back in the batfam yet but the possibility of losing Bruce scared him so bad, he is going to start to make efforts to not be on bad terms with them)

[kitkatscabinet]

Soap, Suds and the Scouser

John Price x MacTavish! reader

Summary: Due to shitty neglectful parents, Johnny's older sister had been forced to take him in and raise him as her own. As such, she's fiercely protective of him, not that he minds, at least not until she screams at his Captain.

Word count: 4.4k

Johnny doesn’t remember much of his life before you. All he remembers is feeling cold, and not understanding love until you swept into his life. From the moment you had swept into his life the dull greys had morphed into an array of colours, his unrelenting loneliness and misery chased away by the light of your affection. 

He doesn’t have a ma and pa like most other kids, and sometimes they tease him for it but he doesn’t mind, because he’s got something better. His big sister is the coolest person in the whole world! You tuck him into bed and read him bedtime stories every night. If he’s been really good he even gets to visit the base where you work sometimes. (He doesn’t understand until he’s older why you suddenly retire from the coolest job ever.)

You never yelled at him and even seemed to get upset when he wouldn’t let you know he was hungry. He cried when you scolded him for that, begged you not to send him back to the house with the angry people who sometimes forgot to feed him. He’d been surprised when instead of getting mad at him you’d started to cry, squeezing him tightly against your chest until he wriggled to be let go. 

You hugged him much more after that, pulling him close whenever he was within reach and planting raspberries on his tummy while he shrieked in laughter. You keep it up even as he gets older and tries to escape from the kisses you’d pepper his face with.  

He was fourteen the first time he snapped at you for it and the way your face had fallen would forever be burned into his brain. You pull away a little after that and Johnny feels sick with guilt, he hugs you a lot more after that.

Later in his life when asked why he’d joined the military he’d answer without hesitation, that he wanted to be like his idol. He wanted to be like you, wanted to make you proud. In a way, he wants to live up to your legacy. As a child, he hadn’t realised just how much of your life and career you’d had to give up to take care of him. 

(You’d been on track for a promotion to lieutenant, and likely would have made captain in record time too.)

As you started to near 40 Johnny was determined to step up and take care of you for once. He makes it through selection easily, but to his surprise, you’d blown up at him. He can’t remember an instance where you’d been so furious at him, not even when he’d crashed his principal's car on a dare. 

It’s the first time in his life you end up not being on speaking terms and he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t exactly leave the army, wouldn’t even if he could because finally, it feels like he has a purpose. The men in his unit instantly pick up on his sudden 180 in personality but any inquiries are instantly shut down with a glare. 

It’s the worst few months of his life, but he won’t apologise. He’s not a child anymore and he needs you to see that. He almost breaks when it’s time for his first deployment and you still aren’t on speaking terms, he’s been sleeping like shit and he misses you like a phantom limb. 

He ends up not needing to when you show up on base, with red-rimmed eyes and hollowed cheeks. Johnny crosses the distance and lets you pull him into a crushing hug, not paying any mind towards the odd stares they receive. 

“I’m sorry. Please be safe,” you whisper into the fabric of his uniform and Johnny doesn’t need you to elaborate. He doesn’t respond verbally, because there’s nothing else to be said, and simply squeezes you tighter against him for what will be the last time for a while. 

It’s hard to be away from you for so long, he’s never done it before and he’s teased relentlessly for how often he calls you. Johnny just laughs in their faces when they pout and complain when he gets your care packages, he has many emotions about your bond but shame is not one of them. 

When the plane lands on his home turf and the dust settles Johnny can’t wait to collapse into one of your hugs and he can practically taste your cooking and he wants to cry when he remembers he’ll have to wait another day. Only, when his boots hit the tarmac he only has to take a few steps before he sees you waiting for him, beaming grin as you open your arms. Dropping his bag, he closes the distance in a flash and he’s not ashamed when he pulls away and notices the wet spot he’s left on your shoulder. The next thing he notices is the uniform, his eyes widening and you laugh. 

“Now that I don’t have to look after a brat anymore I figured it was high time I became active duty again.” He can’t seem to reign in his shock, gawping like a fish and you frown in faux anger, “What? Think I’m too old to do the job? I could still put you in the ground Johnny.” The look in your eyes promises retribution if he doesn’t agree so he simply nods rapidly. 

He’s twenty-two when he gains the moniker Soap, you laugh when he tells you and his smile drops when you won’t explain what’s so amusing. (No matter how much he asks around the base all he gets is amused laughter.)

It’s not until he’s twenty-three, riding the high of being selected for an elite task force and returning home after the shit show that was Verdansk that Soap starts to learn more about the imposing history of his sister. 

He doesn’t even make it to the debriefing room, still covered in grime when he spots you stalking towards him with concerning vigour, thunder on your face that usually indicated an impending ass-whooping. 

Preemptively Johnny backs up, mouth opening to apologise for whatever he’s done, only to freeze as you march straight past him and round on his captain. “You John Price?” Soap recognises the tone and decides it’s in his best interests to stay still and silent, Gaz is openly gawking though the mask makes it impossible to gauge Ghost’s reaction. 

His captain, in a terrifying show of no self-preservation skills, nods in a ‘who wants to know’ sort of manner, brow raised and arms crossed. 

“I dinnae ken who the fuck ye think ye are - ” Oh dear. Instantly Soap’s mind blue-screened, white noise ringing in his ears. Your accent only ever got that heavy when you were truly angry, when he zoned back in you were still yelling, arms flailing to enunciate your point that had very likely become very lost in translation to his starstruck teammates. “ - Irresponsible!” 

Your chest was heaving by the time you’d finished, perfect hair even a little dishevelled. “Laswell” you nodded your head in respect towards the woman, before smiling softly when you turned to Soap. 

“Johnny, bring your teammates over for dinner when you’re free.” It’s said kindly enough but Soap knows it’s not a suggestion. You pat him lovingly on the cheek before disappearing back down the hallway. 

When the shock fades and movement becomes a possible thing again, it takes some extra cajoling to get their captain’s attention and Soap is mortified that whatever his sister said, it had so profoundly shaken the unflappable man. 

Unable to hold anyone’s gaze, Soap marches forward, resolutely staring blankly at the floor. If he’d taken more than a few seconds to gauge his Captain’s reaction, it would have been abundantly clear his frozen state wasn’t one of perceived terror but arousal. 

From the moment John Price bore witness to the fuming Scotswoman stalking towards him with the grace of an apex predator he knew he was fucked. You were an absolute vision, truth be told he barely registered the venomous words you were screaming at him, in front of his men no less. 

His dazed eyes flickering from your perfect pretty lips down to your tits, hips, thighs and back up. His brain was empty of all thoughts except for the stunning goddess and how you’d look sitting astride his lap, squeezing his cock as he mouthed at your -

He clears his suddenly dry throat, dilated pupils darting back up to flicker over your face once more as he desperately attempts to reel his focus back towards what you’re saying, to anything that’s not the aching erection begging to be freed from the confines of his tactical pants. 

Shifting his weight uncomfortably he watches as you pat Soap on the cheek lovingly, forlornly wishing that was him instead. Watching your ass sway with your departure, holding back the groan building in his throat. 

Vaguely Price was aware of the wide-eyed looks exchanged behind his back as he stomped towards his quarters, little mind was paid towards them however. His focus solely on reaching the privacy he needed, slamming the door shut with far more force than necessary as his other hand fumbled for his belt. He doesn’t bother with his pants beyond freeing his flushed cock, leaning back against the door with eyes closed to help better produce an image of your likeness in his mind to match the voice that still rang in his ears. 

Although you weren’t in any capacity attached to the 141, couldn't be due to your conflict of interest, you still shared a base. It was large enough that logistically you should have been able to work without ever seeing any of the 141. Key words being should have, because all of a sudden John Price seemed to be everywhere you turned. 

At first you’d simply assumed he was just another man in power, irritated that you’d so thoroughly dressed him down in front of his men but John Price quickly proves you wrong. He brings you tea, hustles to hold doors open and more than once you’d walked into your office to find flowers. You want to think he’s just trying to get into your good graces, trying to smooth things over with one of his teammates siblings, the denial doesn’t last long. 

You try not to be so taken by his blatant courting attempts even if you are a little confused. Nobody has ever given you this much blatant effort and it makes you feel like a little girl with her first crush instead of the grown woman you are. 

It’s embarrassing, but it’s the most romantic, the most tender that you’ve been treated pretty much since you first took in Johnny. You’d given up on several potential relationships before they could even start over the years, not willing to let him suffer from any potential breakups. 

Still, when you arrive to your office at 4am to find a bouquet of sunflowers you can’t help the way your heart hammers relentlessly against your ribcage as if trying to escape, to jump out straight into the arms of John Price. 

To Soap’s surprise, it’s his Captain who clears their schedule, getting on his sergeant’s case about the promised dinner he’d nearly forgotten about himself. When Johnny walks apprehensively through the front door of your home the anger is apparently gone and you greet them all eagerly, planting a kiss on his cheek as you ushered them all inside and towards the table. 

“Smells heavenly, thanks for having us lass” Price smiles charmingly, moving into the kitchen and swatting your hands away as he finishes setting the table and commanding the boys to help him, insisting that you sit and rest. 

Soap, who is still somehow unaware of his captain’s affections, feels like he’s entered a new dimension for a few seconds. The perceived tension he’d expected nowhere to be found, though he quickly decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, simply happy that everyone was getting along. 

(He’ll look back on this moment down the line and wonder how he was so blind.)

The food is great and you’ve even bought Soap’s favourite beer, something you don’t drink and Johnny lets himself relax as he witnesses you joke around with the team and even start to mother Gaz and Ghost.

“How is it you know Laswell?” Price asked, seemingly hanging on your every word as he sat down next to you on the couch. Soap paused his conversation with Gaz to listen in as all ears and eyes were suddenly on you, you’d always been notoriously quiet about anything to do with your career. 

“Classified” you smirked, laughing as Johnny groaned dramatically and slumped back down in his seat. “I will say we were both very young,” you look into the bottom of your glass with a nostalgic gaze, but there’s something on your face that looks far too close to the time he’d walked in on you- 

“Oh my god! You fucked Laswell!” He shrieked and Soap thought he could be forgiven for the girlish raise in pitch. Price choked on his bear, froth spilling from his nose as you reached for a washcloth to pat his shirt dry, the man having to bite back the groan at the feel of your hands against his chest. 

You don’t give a verbal response but you do turn back to Johnny with a mischievous grin whilst wiggling your eyebrows. When the situation calms a little you surprise him by volunteering even more information, “she was the one that started calling me Suds.”

There were a few seconds of silence as the information was processed before Kyle started to laugh, and Johnny frowned a little, “wait…” he trailed off, shooting you a somewhat betrayed look as you started to laugh too. 

“What was it you told me? They call you Soap cause you clean house? Na little brother, you’re named after me.” Johnny’s face was hysterical as he pouted, his teammates teasing him as laughter filled the house. 

At some point, you’d meandered outside as the boys had started to roughhouse after a game of cards had devolved into a lighthearted screaming match. You sat on the porch with closed eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy the feel of the cool night air on your skin. 

A creak behind you alerts you to the presence of another, the wind carries the scent of scotch and cigars and you open one eye to watch as Price sits next to you. “Needed a break from the peanut gallery?” your brows raise in amusement as he huffs at your words, reaching for a smoke and placing the end in his mouth, hands patting down his pockets for a light when you gave silent confirmation that his actions were ok. 

You giggled a little as his frustration grew, reaching over with your own lighter, holding the flame out for him. “Cheers love,” his gravelly voice sent a shiver down your spine. His breath hitting the back of your hand and you watched slightly mesmerised as he inhaled the smoke. The conversation dwindled and you sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the company as your arm lightly brushed his jacket-clad one. 

Silently Price handed you the cigarette, and though you didn’t usually smoke you found yourself accepting, acutely aware of his deep blue eyes boring into the side of your face as your lips clasped around the filter.     

“Sorry for going off at ye earlier” you apologised, suddenly realising that you’d failed to do so. Continuing to stare straight ahead as you passed the smoke back his way, knuckles brushing against his slowly. 

“S’alright lass, you’re just looking out for what’s yours, it’s admirable really. Sexy too” he growled, voice a whisper on the wind. You’re not sure if the shiver that runs through your body is from his words or the cool night air. Regardless, you lean just a little bit closer into the captain’s warmth, a contented hum escaping your lips when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. 

You’re not ashamed to admit that over the past few weeks you’d been oogling the Captain, it was hard not to when the man flaunted his body so shamelessly in front of you. Looking, it quickly became apparent, was hardly comparable to touching and its impossible to ignore the way your body sings in delight at the feel of him against you. 

Up close you can better detect the hints of his cologne, spicy wooden undertones accentuated by the faint whiskey you can smell on his breath as it caresses your forehead. From any other man the scent of cigars and alcohol paired with the scratch of a beard aginst your ear as he leaned his head against yours would have been a turn off, but it was so quintessentially him, so John Price that you couldn’t help but love it. 

It’s the rusty squeak of the screen door, alerting you to the presence of another, that forces the two of you to part. Ghost, no, Simon, stands silently at the threshold, watching the scene before him with appraising eyes. 

“Johnny’s looking for you.” His words cause you to sigh, throwing an apologetic glance Price’s way before you all head back inside, brown and blue eyes boring into the back of your head. 

Your little brother ends up simply wanting to whine to you about how Kyle has to be cheating, it’s the only possible way the man could have won so consecutively. You want to throttle him for that, for so thoroughly cockblocking you, instead you settle for scuffing him over the back of the head and forcing him to help you with the dishes. 

You work together in practiced tandem, cooperating with silent ease the result of years attending to each others needs. It’s the first instance during the night that the two of you have a moment alone together and you allow yourself to enjoy the peace and monotony of the task, silence accompanied by the soft spray of water. 

“Been meaning to ask, what’s it that got you so barmy with the captain.” His words are lighthearted, teasing, though you can’t help the way your hands still suddenly as you were reminded of that day. You pull yourself together as quickly as possible but Johnny has already undoubtedly picked up on your sudden change in behaviour, the clinking of the ceramic plates in the sink alerting him to the fact your hands were shaking. Although Johnny’s not sure exactly what’s upset you, he’s aware that he has and quickly tries to backtrack but you cut him off, 

“He put my baby brother in what was very avoidable danger” you whispered, eyes never leaving the now sparkling clean plate you’d been scrubbing for the past fourty seconds. Johnny doesn’t answer the shaky confession, but he does bump his shoulder against yours, lightly pushing you out of the way and completely taking over the task. 

Ever since the dinner at your house, something had shifted between you and Price. It was un unspoken tension, crackling through the air every time you so much as laid eyes upon one another, but one you both felt. 

Lingering gazes turned to light touches, fingers brushing against yours, large hands cupping your hips as he passed behind you and the like. It was driving you insane, every night you’d return to the sanctuary of your bed, fingers exploring the expanse of your body as you imagined it was Price touching you instead. 

The two of you were a powder keg waiting to explode, waiting for the single spark that would light the whole thing. It was an inevitable reality, and one you both knew was coming. You’re not sure who snaps first, what exactly lights the powder, though you find you care very little in the face of his lips against yours. 

You push him against the door of your bedroom, hands tugging at the roots of his hair as he lets out a sinful groan, only for you to swallow it with another open mouthed kiss. With one of your thighs between his legs and pushing against his thick erection, you grind frantically against his own muscled thigh. 

The drag of you’re already soaked cunt slowly drenches his pants as well, you’re so focused on planting kisses and bites down the skin of his neck and chest as you rip his top off that you barely notice the way his dilated gaze watches your every move. 

“Fuckin hell darlin, that’s it, take what you need baby.” He sounded wrecked, his words of encouragement causing your rhythm to falter as your hands continued to paw at his chest needily. As much as Price wanted to continue watching you use him to chase you’re own pleasure it would have to wait another time, at this moment he needed you now. 

A squeal leaves your lips as your back is suddenly on the mattress and Price tugs your pants and underwear down to your ankles in one aggressive move, his hands keeping your thighs spread as he stared intently at his prize. 

The groan that leaves his throat at the sight is guttural, the praise he mutters is nearly indistinguishable over the blood pounding in your ears as his tongue swipes over your swollen clit. John Price eats like a man starved, lavishing your thighs in bitemarks when his fingers replace his tongue. He makes you cum like that twice, your juices coating his beard and neck while you tug harshly on his hair. 

“Price please, s’too much, need you now” you sobbed, pulling him up into another bruising kiss and wrapping your shaky thighs around his waist to try and coax him to where you wanted him most. Any other day he’d probably tease you for being so needy but Price was just as aching with need as you, cock flushed and dripping as he lined himself up with your fluttering hole. 

“I know darlin’” he cooed, dipping his mouth down to place reassuring kisses over your chest as you finally stripped your top half bare. His left hand cups one of your tits, forhead resting against yours as he slid into you with one smooth thrust. The pace he sets is relentless, you’ve both been waiting for this moment for weeks. There’d be a time for tenderness later, but right now it was sheer animalistic need fuelling your movements. Your nails rake down his spine as he grunts, whines reaching a crescendo that lets him know you’re quickly approaching your climax once more. 

His own rhythm starts to falter, the sensation of your warm walls squeezing him so tightly nearly too much for him to bare. He refuses to cum first however, thumb swiping over your clit as he grumbles against your collarbone, “come on love, nearly there, be a good girl and cum for me yeah?” 

You are so worked up, so desperate to please the man bringing you such pleasure that you obey with a high pitched keen, thighs clamping his waist in a vice as your walls milk his cock. Price swears at the sensation, unable to pull out from how harshly you’’ve locked your ankles over his back and is filling your womb with thick ropes of cum before he can stop himself. 

Shaky arms unable to hold his weight up anymore collapse, though you don’t seem to mind, snuggling up to him and wrapping your arms around his houlders to keep him in place. He falls asleep tangled in your arms, face nuzzled into your neck as your fingers play gently with his hair. 

When Price wakes the next morning to an empty bed and cooling mattress he frowns, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and lumbering out of your bedroom, still naked from the night before. He quickly finds you in the kitchen, standing at the counter wearing only panties with his shirt. 

Immediately the sight stirs something primal in him, chest rumbling with pleasure as he plasters himself to your back. You hum happily, turning your face so he can plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “Morning darlin.” His voice is still hoarse with sleep and you feel the way it rumbles through his bear chest against your back. 

“Morning” you let out a moan as he pressed his hard cock against you. Your head falls back to rest on his shoulder as one of his hands dips below the hem of your underwear, both of you sighing happily as his calloused fingers make contact with your still tender pussy. 

Any reprimands are banished from your brain at his touch, your worries evaporating into nothingness as the pad of his thumb flicks over your clit. Just as you’re about to cum there’s a screech from behind of “My eyes!” And you whirl around just in time to witness your little brother run face first into the wall behind him in his haste to escape. 

Johnny hits the floor with a heavy thud, hands still covering his face as he continues to scream about the atrocity he’s just witnessed. You think he might even be crying, whether from the pain or the visage of his captain’s bare arse you aren’t sure. 

You should be beyond mortified, and a large part of you is. Still, you can’t help the belly laugh that escapes you as your brain finally catches onto what’s just happened. Your legs collapse from under you as your own tears of laughter stream down your cheeks. Johnny’s also crying and writhing on the floor whilst Price looks to be contemplating murdering the both of you. 

Still giggling you manage to stand once more, pulling the captain down into another sweet kiss before spinning him around and ordering him to get dressed. You do give him a smack on the ass before he leaves though and the sound sets Soap off into a new cursing fit, one hand shaking an aggressive fist towards where he thinks his captain is while he keeps his eyes covered. 

While you’d have liked to have kept whatever it was you had with the Captain a secret for a little longer, liked to have kept him selfishly to yourself, you had to admit that scarring your little brother so badly was worth it. Though given the stink eye he relentlessly stared at Price with you’d probably have to give him a little more time to adjust. Even if unbeknownst to you, the wedding had already been planned out in the Englishman’s mind.

Tags: @innercollectivecomputer @cooliofango @pertinentpostmortem @ghostslillady @domaniquessidehoe2 @ilovehyperfixating @pauphs @Skotchi @juvenillia

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

We all love Arthur playing the piano. But I think a lot of people forget why Arthur stopped playing in the first place and why it's so important that he won't easily return to it with the same fondness.

Music was Arthur's passion. It was what he invested in to get past his parents' death, and it was a healthy coping mechanism that blossomed into a well-earned career. He loved it. And his daughter died because of it. He was so absorbed in his passion (and himself) that he forgot about his own daughter and she drowned to death. It's a horrifying, distressing way for a toddler to go. And it was absolutely Arthur's fault.

So his love of music and piano specifically has been tainted by the grief and guilt of his daughter's death. When John asks if Arthur misses playing the piano, he says, "No," without hesitation.

How odd that something you've divulged your career into is not something you miss. But then when you learn how Faroe died and how Arthur ignored her--or "dismissed" her, according to him--it all makes sense. So when I read these snippets/fanfic stories where Arthur plays the piano eagerly, it gives me pause because I know something is missing.

The piano is tied to his daughter's death. That will never go away. In the same way that the music he has written will never leave him, even when he loses all memory, including his own name. The piano is tied to his grief of Faroe. It is tied to his grief of his parents. And his grief is so interwoven with Arthur that he can never escape it. He can only continue on with it as a constant tune in the back of his head, something we hear nearly every episode of Malevolent. Arthur isn't fond of the piano anymore. But the tune he wrote for his daughter, who died because of it, plays in his head every day.

[slaymitchabernathy]

The Legacy

“Daddy! Daddy look what Mommy did to my hair!”

Coriolanus looks down at his daughter, his heart and soul. His Ceraphina.

Born four years ago on a stormy night, Ceraphina stole his heart and never gave it back. She’s been an absolute light in their lives, always making them laugh and smile.

She looks nearly identical to Soarynn which only furthers his need to protect her, to always keep her safe from any harm that might come her way. It often leads him to wonder what their other children might look like should they have more. Soarynn has spoken about it many times, expanding their family and giving Ceraphina a sibling but only time will tell.

He smiles down at his daughter who proudly shows him the bow that Soarynn has fastened in her wavy blonde hair. Many things can be said for the Snow family and what they’re known for.

Some view him as a dictator rather than a President although most people who think that live in the Districts. They have no love for him or his family. Others see him as a wonderful President who only has the best intentions for his beloved country. Those are the people who he’s gladly welcoming into his home tonight for the Presidential Gala.

He’s just about finished with getting ready but he’ll always have a moment to spare for his darling daughter who gazes up at him with eyes identical to her mother’s. “Well, don’t you look fabulous darling? And this bow? Some of the best work I’ve ever seen. You’re sure to be the center of attention tonight.”

Ceraphina’s eyes dazzle at his words of praise and she smiles, “Thank you, Daddy! I can’t wait to go to the chocolate fountain.” Coriolanus grins because he knows that Ceraphina would spend the rest of her life next to the chocolate fountain if she could. It’s also Soarynn’s favorite part of the dessert table which further proves that Ceraphina is her twin.

“Yes, after you eat all your dinner hmm?” He asks while fixing his tie. He can't afford to look bad tonight, not with the amount of cameras that will be snapping pictures of them. Ceraphina’s small hands grip the marble countertop as she tries to peer at her reflection but she’s still too little to see.

Coriolanus scoops her up and places her on the counter, basking in her giggles when he tickles her. “Tickle monster!” She cries, shrieking with laughter. When Ceraphina was younger, she was terrified of sleeping alone in her bedroom due to her fear of the closet and what lay inside of it when the lights were out.

It got to the point where she’d bawl her eyes out when Soarynn or Coriolanus tried to put her to sleep. It didn’t matter how many books they read or how many songs Soarynn sang, she refused to be left alone. Coriolanus could easily see where the problem was going and how it would lead to Ceraphina sleeping in their bed and he just couldn’t have that.

So, the tickle monster was born.

He told Ceraphina that there was a monster in the closet and that he was very good friends with the monster and sometimes the monster took over and tortured her with tickles. It solved the problem rather quickly which he was glad for, even though Soarynn hated how he got her riled up right before bedtime.

“He’s returned, Coriolanus agrees, sneaking in a few more tickles before ceasing his attack. Ceraphina giggles and turns to look at their reflections, her blue-gray eyes going wide when she sees herself. “Daddy?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“Do I look pretty like Mommy?”

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows at the question and he doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Of course you do darling. Your Mommy is the most beautiful woman in all of Panem and you are the most beautiful girl in all of Panem. No one could ever compare to the two of you.”

Ceraphina smiles and nods at her reflection as if all is right in the world after receiving that answer, “Do I look like Mommy?”

Coriolanus hums and grabs his favorite cologne before liberally applying it to his neck, he can’t afford to smell bad either. “Yes darling, you and Mommy are practically twins. You’re a spitting image of her.” She truly is, with her wavy hair and her startling eyes. Coriolanus is glad that Ceraphina has taken after Soarynn when it comes to looks.

Soarynn who has been so openly praised for her youthful beauty and charming personality, her kind demeanor, and her graceful femininity. Soarynn is perfect which automatically makes Ceraphina perfect since she spends nearly every waking moment with her.

With an entire country to run, Coriolanus doesn’t get to see Ceraphina a lot during the week. Soarynn however, has dedicated her every waking moment to taking care of their daughter and Coriolanus couldn’t be more pleased with her devotion as a mother.

It’s as if her ears are burning because a moment later, Soarynn walks into the bathroom looking gorgeous as always. She’s dressed in a floor-length gown, black to match his own attire it seems. The dress is strapless and clings to her figure in a most flattering way and it has a slit going up her right leg. Her hair is cascading down her back, flawless as always, and her face, her beautiful face.

Coriolanus nearly gets lost looking at it until Ceraphina voices his feelings for him.

“Mommy you look so pretty!”

Soarynn smiles at their daughter who thinks of her mother as the moon and stars and places a loving hand on her cheek, “Thank you my sweet darling. And don’t you look so beautiful in your pink dress? Did you show your father your bow?”

Ceraphina nods proudly, eyeing Coriolanus to confirm that she did in fact show off her hair bow. He chuckles and places a hand on Soarynn’s waist, admiring the stunning creature that is his wife, “She did, in fact, we were just talking about how you two look alike.”

Soarynn’s smile widens as she runs a loving hand through Ceraphina’s hair, “Well if I’m half as kind as you are darling then that’s more than enough for me. Now why don’t you go find nanny so she can help you with your shoes?”

Ceraphina pouts but one stern look from Coriolanus quickly resolves any tantrums and Soarynn carefully helps her down from the counter before she runs off to find her nanny.

Rarely do they ever enlist the help of others, of outsiders, but on nights like this where the drinks are flowing and their attention is pulled every which way, a nanny is more than necessary.

Coriolanus pulls Soarynn against him and she giggles, allowing him to press kisses up and down her neck, “You’re terribly possessive darling,” she purrs, her nails gently scratching up and down the back of his neck, his favorite spot.

Coriolanus places one last kiss before pulling away and staring her in the eyes, nearly losing his breath in the process, “Only with you my love,” he assures her, “only with you.”

Soarynn sighs and rests her head on his shoulder, seemingly content for them to just stay here instead of going downstairs to the Gala that awaits them. “Remind me of anyone important tonight,” she murmurs, her hand instantly finding his.

Coriolanus places a kiss on her temple before answering, “Quintus Heavensbee for starters, also the new Head Game Maker, Arthus Crane, and his wife will be attending.” Soarynn hums and her hand comes to rest on the necklace she almost always wears, a locket with photos of Coriolanus, Ceraphina, and Petunia.

Speaking of Petunia…where is she?

Coriolanus doesn’t mind his wife’s cat for the most part but he does always make sure to keep her tucked away when they have guests over like this.

"Well I'm sure tonight will be wonderful," Soarynn says with a sigh, "I just hope that Ceraphina will go down without a fuss." Ceraphina is a sweet angelic child, however, she often refuses to go to bed during things like this where she feels like she's leaving the party. She eventually gives in but it can be rather tiresome when Soarynn and Coriolanus have guests to entertain.

He gives her an encouraging squeeze, "It'll be perfect darling. I promise."

꧁ ꧂

"Oh, she's just precious."

Coriolanus basks in the compliments that Ceraphina receives while she plays on the grass with her teddy bear. It's normally frowned upon for children to be playing on the dirty ground during a party but Ceraphina, it seems, is the only exception. And besides, the Mansion's grounds are so well kept, not a blade of grass is out of place.

"You'd do well to give her a sibling to play with," Festus Creed says to him, nudging Coriolanus with his elbow. Coriolanus looks over at Soarynn who's standing amongst her own friends, laughing whilst sipping their champagne.

He'd love another child, she'd love another child. Perhaps they should really start trying again. Soarynn never got her implant put back in after giving birth to Ceraphina, but they haven't been keeping track of her cycle to know exactly when to really try.

Perhaps it's time to start back up again.

"I'll work on that," he says teasingly, taking a drink of his whiskey. The Gala is going extremely well, photos have been taken, compliments given and drinks have been flowing.

"Ceraphina darling, it's time for bed," Soarynn calls, approaching their pouting daughter. All the women fawn over how adorable she is when interacting with Soarynn who easily calms their daughters pouting with the promise of Petunia sleeping in her room.

Ceraphina loves Petunia, she’s always chasing her around the house and forcing her to partake in her tea parties. To have Petunia spend the night in her room is a treat as special as any. And that’s seems to do the trick because moments later she’s running over to bid Coriolanus a goodnight.

“Goodnight Daddy! I’ll see you in the morning!”

Despite being the President of Panem, feared by so many and respected by few, Coriolanus doesn’t hesitate to get down on one knee to press a kiss to her cheek, “Goodnight my darling. Have the sweetest dreams.”

Ceraphina nods and runs back over to Soarynn who takes her hand and begins to lead them up the many, many stairs that lead back up to the terrace. Coriolanus watches them once they reach the top where Ceraphina’s nanny is waiting for them.

Soarynn bends down to give Ceraphina a hug and kiss goodnight before she’s entrusted with the nanny for the rest of the night.

“Persephone won’t stop complaining about how much is left to do with the nursery,” Festus groans which pulls Coriolanus back into the conversation, “she’s acting like it’ll be the end of the world if we don’t have the perfect curtains or photographs.”

Coriolanus chuckles, remembering how adamant Soarynn had been on perfecting Ceraphina’s nursery while she was pregnant with her. “Women tend to fuss over these things my friend,” Coriolanus tells him solemnly, “all we can do is foot the bill and let them do whatever they want.”

Soarynn had been an angel all things considered during her pregnancy. Despite some morning nausea and the occasional snippy attitude when she was nearing the end of the grueling nine months, Coriolanus had nothing to complain about.

In the end, she gave him something he could never replace.

His legacy.

꧁ ꧂

There comes a point at every party when the drinks have taken their toll on the guests, including Coriolanus.

His head is slightly buzzing with the amount of alcohol he’s consumed but some of the other guests are much worse than he is. At least he can stand.

“I’ve heard rumors of an uprising in One,” Livia Cardew murmurs to his right which causes his head to snap in her direction. She’s talking to Soarynn, it’s a private conversation but he has no issue butting in where he sees fit. “We have absolutely nothing to worry about in One,” he tells Livia who rolls her eyes in return.

“Why not? Because you said so? We both know how much those people hate us Coriolanus. They’d do anything to get under our skin,” Livia says, looking at Soarynn who simply purses her lips.

Before Coriolanus can say anything, he sees a white blur run across the ballroom floor. He must be drunk because for a moment, he thought he saw Petunia. Which is impossible because Petunia is upstairs, in Ceraphina’s room asleep. They never let her roam around during things like this.

After taking a look at Soarynn’s face however, he begins to wonder if he really did imagine it.

Soarynn breaks away from the conversation without so much as a polite excuse as she walks towards the other end of the ballroom, her husband and good friend long forgotten.

“Where’s so going?” Livia asks and Coriolanus can only shake his head, “I think we both saw something. I’m not quite sure though. Would you excuse me for a moment?”

Coriolanus doesn’t wait for a reply, he just makes his way over to the doors that lead into the dining room where they always eat when they have large gatherings such as this one. Two Peacekeepers are stationed by the doors and both nod at him once they notice his approach, “Have you seen my wife?” He asks, wondering where Soarynn could have gone.

If Petunia was down here then they definitely would have heard about it. All of Soarynn’s friends adore Petunia and always fuss over her to his dismay.

“Yes sir. She just went upstairs a minute ago. She was carrying the cat.”

Petunia was down here.

Why was Petunia down here?

How would Petunia be able to get all the way downstairs if she was in Ceraphina’s room?

Coriolanus frowns while he tries to come up with a reasonable answer as to why Petunia was downstairs when he hears a scream.

Soarynn’s scream.

And he’s running. Running down the great hall. Running up the stairs. Running towards Ceraphina’s room where he finds the doors wide open, Petunia darting out and down the hall.

What he finds inside the room is blood curdling.

Soarynn on her knees, stifling her sobs while staring at Ceraphina’s nanny, dead on the ground.

His eyes dart to the pink canopy bed where Ceraphina sleeps and he finds it empty.

Empty.

Someone took her.

Someone took his daughter. His baby girl.

“Ceraphina?” He calls, looking around to see if maybe she’s hiding somewhere. She loves to hide, to play games like hide-and-seek but this isn’t a game, it’s not funny. “Ceraphina Snow come out here this instant,” he says, his voice wavering despite wanting to sound authoritative.

Soarynn gasps for air and he turns his attention to her, to his beautiful wife sobbing in the floor, “Soarynn? Soarynn darling what happened? Who did this? Are you hurt?”

Soarynn shakes her head, going to wipe her tears but deciding against it at the last moment. She has nothing to hide here. “They took her Coriolanus,” she whispers, “I don’t know who but they took her and killed the nanny.”

The Peacekeepers finally made their way up and there all wide eyed when they take in the sight of Ceraphina’s room in disarray. The bedsheets thrown off the bed, toys scattered, the nanny dead.

“Search the house,” Coriolanus tells them, “search every room, every corner, every hallway. Find my daughter.”

They immediately take off to search the rest of the house and most likely question the guests. Everyone is a suspect now.

Coriolanus crouches down and carefully wraps his arms around Soarynn’s trembling frame, “We'll find her darling, we’ll find her. She’s probably somewhere in the house.”

Soarynn lets out a whimper and his heart breaks even more, he's never seen his wife like this, unable to speak, to cope. A million thoughts race through his mind while he holds Soarynn.

Who did this? How did people get into the Mansion? Was this an inside job?

It's no secret that many people hate Coriolanus Snow and would do anything to hurt him, but taking his child is on another level. There will be hell to pay.

He can hear shouting, the guests are being questioned no doubt. This had to be done by someone they knew, someone they trusted inside of their home.

But who?

Soarynn is in no condition to get off the floor but Coriolanus can't just sit here restless while his daughter is out there somewhere, probably terrified out of her mind. "I'll be back," he says to Soarynn whose eyes have gone vacant, "I'll go find her I promise." He presses a gentle kiss to the side of her head before standing up and leaving the room.

He finds the ballroom in disarray, everyone is shouting while Peacekeepers yell even louder. Festus finds him in the crowd and grabs his arm, "Coriolanus what the hell is going on?" He shouts over the noise. His wife Persephone is right behind him and she looks flushed. The Capitolites aren't used to being pushed around it seems.

"Someone took Ceraphina," Coriolanus says, his voice hollow. Saying it out loud makes it feel so much more real. Like it's the truth. Both Festus and Persephone gasp and Persephone places her hand on her chest, "Oh my...oh my goodness. Have you searched the grounds for her? Perhaps she wanted to go play outside."

Coriolanus feels his eyes light up at the suggestion, maybe she's right, maybe Ceraphina slipped out of bed before her nanny was shot. Coriolanus forges forward towards the terrace doors, ignoring the shouts he gets from his guests asking what's warranted this treatment.

"The President's daughter has been taken!" One of the Peacekeepers shouts, causing a hush to fall over the room. "Until she is found, we will be questioning everyone who attended the Gala tonight. Everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise. If you have any information regarding her disappearance, let us know."

Coriolanus pushes the large doors open and he's hit with the evening air. Just a while ago he was out here watching his daughter play and now she's gone. He can hear and see several other Peacekeepers searching for her outside, shouting her name but he has to look for her himself.

"Ceraphina! Ceraphina where are you darling?"

Coriolanus descends the steps leading down to the grounds with haste as his eyes scan the dark landscape. The only source of light is from the greenhouse which they always lock for events like this. But maybe she slipped inside. Coriolanus begins towards the greenhouse when he steps on something.

He looks down and feels as if he might throw up.

It's her bow.

The bow that Soarynn put in her hair. The bow that Ceraphina so proudly showed him before the Gala.

Coriolanus crouches down to pick it up and feels how soft it is. She was out here, they must've taken her through the grounds, whoever they are.

"President Snow, we found something in the greenhouse!"

꧁ ꧂

'You take our children from us every year, now we took yours. Find us where it all began.'

Coriolanus reads those words over and over again.

The Rebels. People from the Districts took her.

Coriolanus crumples up the note the Peacekeepers found in the greenhouse and lets out a frustrated groan. She's truly in danger now, who knows what those District scum will do to her.

They had broken some of the glass panes of the greenhouse, slipped in, and left the note by the fountain for him to find. How long have they been planning this?

"Put the entire Capitol on lockdown," he says, his voice cold and bitter, "no one in, no one out. Stop all the trains, question anyone working at the border. Search the city street by street."

He doesn't look up from the ground but he hears feet shuffling over broken glass and he hears a few Peacekeepers mumbling, "Madam Snow."

He looks over his shoulder to see Soarynn standing in the doorway. Her eyes are bloodshot, and her hands are still shaking as she takes a slow step into the greenhouse. "Where...where is she?" Soarynn asks him. If only he could tell her.

Coriolanus pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, "I don't know," he admits, "it was the Rebels. They left a note, and...and I found this," he pulls out the bow from his pocket and holds it out to her.

Soarynn gasps at the sight and her lip trembles, "Is she going to die Coriolanus? Are they going to kill our baby girl?"

Coriolanus sets his jaw and his fingers wrap around the bow, nearly crushing it, "No. Not if I have anything to do with it. The city is on lockdown, and there's no way they already made it out. She's here somewhere we just have to know where to look."

Soarynn wipes away a tear and takes in a shaky breath, "What...what did the note say?"

Coriolanus looks back down at the crumpled piece of paper and he's already imagining killing whoever wrote that cryptic piece of shit. "They said to find them where it all began, and that they took her because we take their children."

The Hunger Games are brutal by design, a way to remind the Districts of their failure and to punish those who are seemingly "innocent."

A wave of recognition flashes over Soarynn's face and she steps towards him, "The arena," she whispers, her blue-gray eyes wide with realization, "where it all began. They took her to the old arena where we used to hold the Games, oh Coriolanus she's right under our noses."

It all clicks in his mind a moment later. She's right. They took her to the old arena where the Games were first held. An old arena that's no longer used, filled with corpses and bones no doubt.

Coriolanus gently takes her hand in his, giving it a squeeze, "I'll have every man we can spare surround the arena. I'll go find her Soarynn, I promise. I'll bring her back."

New tears form in Soarynn's eyes and she's swift to blink them away, "So you won't let me go with you?"

He nearly laughs at her question. He'd be a fool to bring his other prized possession with him to the fight. Only a fool would bring his wife to a possible ambush like this one. No, she needs to stay here where she's safe.

If their home is even safe anymore.

"No. I can't lose you too Soarynn. I need you to stay here, stay with the Heavensbees. I'll have my most trusted men watch over you while the rest of the staff is questioned, I'm sure some of them were in on this." It's no secret that the Snows have a wide variety of staff, some originating from the Capitol and a few from the Districts.

Those who are from the Districts are Avoxes but you don't need a tongue to betray your employer. Many will die tonight.

Soarynn nods, staring down at the bow still in his other hand, "Bring her home."

꧁ ꧂

"It's a small group of men. Seven. And she's with them. Unharmed from what I could see. They asked for you specifically, won't say anything to us."

Coriolanus is briefed on the current situation conspiring inside the old arena and he feels himself growing more and more angry as the seconds pass. The old arena's gates have been chained shut for years now but they've been blown wide open by the Peacekeepers who are all positioned outside with trucks and lots and lots of guns.

Anyone who leaves the arena will be shot on sight.

"I'm going inside," Coriolanus tells the Commander who gives him a worried look, "I have to get her back, and I also have to pretend to consider their terms. This isn't just a hostage situation, its a negotiation."

Coriolanus isn't really asking, he's just letting the man know and he seems to recognize that. "Let me get you a vest then, can't have you getting shot." That would not be good.

Coriolanus is prepped with a bulletproof vest, a concealed gun, and a flash-bang grenade. He's dressed like he's going to war, which he would happily do for his daughter.

He watches two medic trucks pull up to the side of the arena, he hopes those won't be needed.

"We'll surround them from above, just keep them talking and once we have a clear shot, we'll take them all down," the Commander assures him as they approach the front entrance of the arena.

When Coriolanus was a little boy, he came to this arena to watch the circus. He always took a different entrance, the entrance for the wealthy. It's fitting that these Rebels took the front entrance meant for poor people.

It's dark in the tunnel but Coriolanus can see a source of light coming from inside the arena. He pushes through the turnstiles and cringes at the loud automated voice.

"Enjoy the show!"

Coriolanus looks back at the army of Peacekeepers watching him guns ready. At least if he's chased, they'll shoot anything that pursues him but that does very little to soothe his nerves.

Coriolanus sucks in a sharp breath as he finally comes into the arena and comes face to face with a group of men and his daughter.

Ceraphina is dressed in her pajamas and is holding one of the men's hands. She seems fine, unharmed like the Commander said. Her eyes light up when she sees him, "Daddy! Daddy, you found me!"

Coriolanus pays the Rebels no mind as he smiles at his daughter who's seemingly unaware of the current situation, and he’d like to keep it that way, "I did sweetheart. I found you."

He���s still walking but one of the Rebels holds up a large gun, pointed right at him, "That's far enough." His District accent clashes with the ones from the Capitol and Coriolanus feels hatred coursing through his veins. "I've come to negotiate," he says calmly.

The men sneer and give each other looks, "We've been trying to negotiate for years, looks like you only care when we have something that belongs to you."

Coriolanus opens his mouth to respond but Ceraphina seems to have an agenda of her own, "Daddy I want Mommy!" Oh, Soarynn. Coriolanus hopes she's alright at home.

The man holding Ceraphina's hand looks down at her and nods, "You'll see your Mommy real soon, as long as your Daddy does what we tell him to do." Ceraphina doesn't seem scared of this man, or any of them for that matter, she simply nods and bounces on her toes, "Okay!"

Coriolanus turns his focus back onto his daughter's kidnappers, "Just name your terms." The ringleader it seems, steps forward with a cocky look on his face, "You're gonna stop the Hunger Games and stop taking our children. In return, we'll let her go and we won't keep showing up in your house. She's not the only one who matters to you is she?"

Now they've brought Soarynn into this, and for that, they'll have to die.

Coriolanus clenches his jaw at the threat so casually thrown at his wife, his darling girl who's worried sick about him and their daughter. "Fine, I’ll agree to your terms, but I want my daughter back first. She has nothing to do with this."

The men break into a fit of laughter as if he just told the funniest joke in the world. "She has everything to do with this! Bet you thought you'd be safe in that Mansion of yours but you aren't. The innocent must be punished."

Coriolanus spots the smallest bit of movement from the stands above them and adrenaline is coursing through his veins. He needs Cerpahina to move away from these men. He can't have her see this, not if he can help it.

“Are we done playing the game now?” Ceraphina asks with a whine, now rocking back and forth on her heels. She’s barefoot which infuriates him even further. They fucking kidnapped his daughter but couldn’t bother to get her some shoes to wear.

She’s given several nasty looks from her captors who clearly hadn’t anticipated her being so fussy but it’s past her bedtime and they’ve dragged her to the most undesirable place in the Capitol. They only have themselves to blame.

“Looks like your Daddy agreed to our terms,” the ringleader says slowly, tilting his head at Coriolanus as if taunting him, “so I guess the game is over.”

The game?

Coriolanus can only imagine what they’re talking about.

Once given a nod, the man holding onto Ceraphina’s hand lets go and she smiles up at him, “Goodbye!” Coriolanus waits with a bated breath as she slowly walks towards him, he knows she doesn’t understand but he wishes she’d walk faster. The sooner he has her in his arms, the better.

The moment Ceraphina is within reach, Coriolanus grabs her off the ground and wraps both arms around her small body, “Oh sweetheart, we were so worried about you.”

He spots more movement from above. It’s time.

Ceraphina returns his embrace and giggles, “Why were you worried Daddy? They said we were playing hide and seek, and you always find me.”

Coriolanus wishes she could always remain this innocent and naive but with attacks like this happening, he fears it may be impossible.

Coriolanus gives her a tight-lipped smile, “Yes, Daddy always finds you my darling. Now cover your ears and close your eyes very tight for me.” Ceraphina furrows her eyebrows and frowns, "Why? Why can't we play some more?"

Coriolanus can feel his patience thinning as the seconds pass but he can't snap at his darling daughter, not when she's the victim in all of this. "We can play when we get home and see Mommy. Now close your eyes and cover your ears for me sweetheart."

That seems to be enough to convince Ceraphina who squeezes her eyes shut as tightly as she can and places her hands over her ears. Coriolanus turns on his heel and he revels in the sound of guns firing and Rebels crying out as the bullets pierce their skin. Coriolanus rubs Ceraphina's back as he walks back through the tunnel, whispering soothing words even though she can't hear them.

The bullets cease and it's so quiet in the arena. It's wonderful.

And once again, Snow lands on top.

꧁ ꧂

The Mansion is empty when they return.

Guests are gone, music has ceased, the party is over.

Coriolanus quietly pads down the great hall towards one of the many sitting rooms they have, Ceraphina fast asleep in his arms.

He spots Quintus Heavensbee, his most trusted advisor standing in the hall, perking up when he spots the father-daughter duo. "Thank goodness," he whispers, clapping Coriolanius on the shoulder once they reach him, "we were so worried that neither of you would return."

Coriolanus lets out a tired sigh and places a loving hand on the back of Ceraphina's head, cradling her, "We took down the Rebel group, although now I wish we had questioned them first. Who knows how many more were aware of the plan."

Quintus shakes his head fervently, "No need to worry about that my friend. We captured four other Rebels who were in on it working in the Mansion." Coriolanus feels a newfound source of anger bubbling inside of him.

Rebels in the President's Mansion. What a fucking joke.

Quintus takes notice of his concealed anger and pats his shoulder lightly, "Let's talk about this tomorrow morning. Right now your wife and daughter need you more than ever." Ceraphina wakes at the mention of her mother and yawns, rubbing her eyes, "I want Mommy."

Both men smile at her sweet request and Quintus nods towards the doors that lead to the sitting room, "She's in there with my wife and Ms. Trinket." Coriolanus can't help but feel relieved to hear that Eudora Trinket, the woman who plans every second of his life, wasn't in on the Rebel scheme.

She’d been there for all the appointments concerning Soarynn’s pregnancy and she’d held Soarynn’s other hand when she gave birth. To lose Eudora to the Rebels would hit their family hard.

Coriolanus doesn’t waste another moment to push open the large doors revealing his wife sitting on the edge of a sofa, her knee bouncing up and down while she nervously awaits more news about the kidnapping of her daughter.

She looks up at them and gasps, her eyes focusing on Ceraphina as she stands up and crosses the room within seconds. She’s grabbing Ceraphina from his arms, cradling her, kissing her face, assessing her for damage all while trying not to cry.

“Oh my sweet darling,” Soarynn whispers, pressing a kiss to her head, “I was so worried about you. Thank goodness you’re safe.” Coriolanus wraps an arm around Soarynn’s trembling frame and rubs soothing circles on her back, “She’s alright darling, she’s safe now.”

Ceraphina simply basks in the attention she’s given from both her parents and rests a small hand on Soarynn’s cheek, “Mommy my pajamas got dirty.” Soarynn presses a small kiss to her hand and hums, “Mommy will give you a nice bath sweetheart, and then you can sleep in Mommy and Daddy’s room tonight.”

Coriolanus already knows how this will go, the never dissipating fear that will forever live in Soarynn now that she knows what it’s like to have her daughter taken from her. She’ll want Ceraphina with her all day every day.

Ceraphina’s eyes widen at the opportunity to sleep in her parent’s bedroom, something she’s never done before, “Really? Can I bring my bear?” Out of the all the stuffed animals she’s been gifted over the years, her stuffed teddy bear is by far her favorite.

Soarynn nods and runs her fingers through Ceraphina’s hair, “Yes darling, you can bring your bear.” That seems to be more than enough for Ceraphina who buries her face in Soarynn’s neck, seemingly exhausted from tonight’s events.

Soarynn lets out a shaky breath and leans into Coriolanus and his hold, “Thank you,” she whispers, her blue-gray eyes meeting his piercing blue ones, “thank you for finding her and bringing her back to me.”

Coriolanus feels himself getting choked up, their sweet baby girl could’ve died tonight and he refuses to imagine the shell of a person Soarynn would become if that happened.

So he simply holds her a little tighter and kisses her temple, “I’ll always fight to keep you two together my darling, always.”

꧁ ꧂

“Daddy look! Bubbles!”

Ceraphina’s voice is the first thing to greet Coriolanus when he walks into his bathroom. He smiles down at Ceraphina who’s sitting in the tub surrounded by bubbles and floating toys. She’s completely oblivious to what went down tonight and he can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

He watches Ceraphina play for a moment before watching his wife who’s sitting on her knees right next to the tub, watching Ceraphina as if she might disappear and never come back.

She almost did, he reminds himself.

He’s worried for Soarynn. Worried about how this might have affected her.

Despite Quintus and his protests, Coriolanus went over the events that conspired tonight and was able to see the other Rebels who were in on the plan. They had of course been detained but one was a Peacekeeper, two were maids and one was a gardener. He’d have them all executed before the week was over. And to ensure that they hadn’t planted any seeds of a revolution in the rest of his household staff, he’d execute them too.

Better safe than sorry.

He’d tasked a few of the remaining maids to clean up Ceraphina’s bedroom, wipe the blood off the floor. He wondered if her nanny had been in on it. Would Soarynn ever trust anyone else with the care of their daughter?

Probably not.

“Let’s get you dried off darling,” Soarynn says and Coriolanus snaps back into the present and makes his way into the closet to change out of his clothes. Hours ago he was getting dressed for the Gala so unaware of what would happen.

He dresses himself in some pajama pants before he comes back into the bathroom to wash his face and comb through his curls. He hears a meow and looks down to find Petunia watching him, her tail swishing back and forth in the air.

“Thank you,” he quietly says to the cat, “we would’ve never known if you hadn’t come downstairs to warn us.”

Petunia only blinks but it says enough to him.

He can hear Ceraphina giggling from the bedroom, not at all tired now that she’s allowed to sleep in her parent’s room. A moment later he hears her little footsteps approaching him, “Daddy! Daddy can you read me a bedtime story?”

Coriolanus grabs a towel and dries off his face, “Of course I can darling. Why don’t you get into bed and I’ll meet you there in a minute?”

An excited gasp is all he hears before she’s running back into the bedroom and Coriolanus takes a long good look in the mirror.

Will people always try to hurt his family? Will they always target the two good things in his life? Those men mentioned Soarynn, mentioned hurting her to him. Should he send the girls away? Hide them somewhere that no one knows about?

It would break Soarynn’s heart but it’s better than finding her with a bullet in her head.

He’ll talk to her more about his ideas tomorrow. They’re all exhausted from today.

When Coriolanus comes into the bedroom, Soarynn and Ceraphina are already in bed. Soarynn hasn’t changed out of her clothes from tonight but she probably doesn’t want to leave Ceraphina, even for a quick shower. She gives him a tired smile when she notices him, “She’s very excited for your bedtime story.”

Coriolanus grins and carefully slips into bed, his hand smoothing down Ceraphina’s hair that Soarynn braided down her back. She’s squished between her two parents and looks happier than ever.

“What game did you play tonight darling?” He asks her, his curiosity getting the best of him. Soarynn gives him a curious look but she wasn’t there in that arena with those men.

Ceraphina yawns, “We played hide-and-seek and they said we had to wait for you to come and find me.” Soarynn seems to have put the pieces together and she absentmindedly rubs her hand up and down Ceraphina’s back, “Were they nice to you? Did they yell or say mean things to you?”

Did they touch you?

That’s what Soarynn really wants to ask but Coriolanus can already see her holding back tears.

Ceraphina shakes her head and plays with the silk pillow case, “No. No, they didn’t yell Mommy. They said we were playing a game. Then I got scared so one of them let me hold his hand. Can I hear the story now Daddy?”

Coriolanus nods, his mind a thousand miles away from telling a bedtime story but he has to get through this first. “Of course sweetheart. Once upon a time…”

꧁ ꧂

Neither Coriolanus nor Soarynn can take their eyes off of their sleeping daughter. She’s been asleep for over an hour and yet they’re just…watching her.

“I remember when she was so little,” Soarynn whispers, her fingertips ghosting Ceraphina’s cheek, “when she was just a baby I would watch her sleep for hours. I was so terrified she’d stop breathing in her sleep. This was when you were coming home at all hours of the night, so it was really just me and her.”

Soarynn swallows down a sob, “And I would just watch her sleep. And think and pray to whoever was listening, ‘Please don’t take her. Please don’t take my daughter away from me.’ Then tonight I felt like it was some sick joke, like whoever was listening hated me and hated my daughter.”

Tears fall down Soarynn’s cheeks and Coriolanus reaches out for her, careful not to crush their sleeping daughter. “Shhh, shhh it’s alright Soarynn. She’s safe, she’s safe and no one will ever touch her again. Anyone who wanted to hurt her is dead now and they wanted to hurt her because they hated me. No one could ever hate you sweet girl.”

Soarynn shakes her head and wipes her tears, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, “They could’ve killed her Coriolanus. Or touched her or made her take something. I…I kept hoping that instead of hurting our little girl and torturing her, they’d just kill her instead. At least then she wouldn’t have to suffer.”

This attack has shaken the Snows.

They’ll be expected to give a statement to give a warning to those who try and hurt them.

Coriolanus quietly slips out of bed and rounds the other side so that he can properly hold his wife, “She’s alive Soarynn. She’s alive and she’s asleep in our bed. It’s been such a long night darling and we need to get you dressed in something else. Why don’t we go find you something else to wear?”

Soarynn shakes her head, pulling back when he tried to scoop her into his arms, “I won’t leave her Coriolanus. I’m never leaving her again.”

He sighs. His girl has always been stubborn but now she’s cemented in her mind. Surrounded by fear. “Okay,” he whispers, placing a gentle hand on her cheek, “okay then why don’t I go find you something to wear? I’ll be right back darling.”

That seems to sound better to Soarynn who nods and curls back up with Ceraphina, holding her tightly.

Coriolanus feels his hands curling into fists the second he’s out of her sight. Those men may have not touched Soarynn physically, but they did emotionally. They’ve terrified his wife and he’s going to make everyone in the Districts pay for it.

He’ll do anything to protect the ones he loves.

To protect his legacy.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[chaotic-laila]

Beneath the Bet: A Love Unspoken

(picture taken from pinterest)

Pairing - Sirius Black x Female Reader

Glimpse - “But if you hurt me,” she added, her tone light but laced with a warning, “I’ll kill you.”

Sirius laughed, the sound full of genuine warmth. “Fair enough, love. Fair enough.”

Summary - Sirius Black, the notorious heartthrob of Hogwarts, takes on a bet to win over Y/N, a sassy, nerdy Gryffindor who’s never fallen for his charms. What starts as a game quickly turns real when Sirius finds himself falling for her. But just as Y/N begins to trust him, a whispered secret about the bet shatters everything. Now, with her heart broken and Sirius desperate to make things right, the truth comes out... but is it already too late?

**

The Great Hall was buzzing with its usual energy, filled with students chatting, laughing, and eating, while the enchanted ceiling mimicked the perfect autumn sky above. Y/N sat among her friends at the Gryffindor table, a book resting in front of her as she half-listened to their conversation. Though her mind was occupied by her studies, she was always ready to chime in with a sarcastic remark or a witty quip. She was a social person, known for her loud, confident voice, and her tendency to speak her mind.

She was also a nerd—unashamedly so. Her love for books and academics hadn’t gone unnoticed over the years, but she never let it stop her from being outgoing or from enjoying life at Hogwarts. Most people knew her, not because she was trying to stand out, but because she was unapologetically herself.

From across the Hall, Sirius Black leaned casually against the back of his seat, his gray eyes focused on Y/N, who was engaged in some animated debate with her friends. It wasn’t the first time Sirius had noticed her—hell, she had been around since their first year—but there was something about her lately that kept catching his eye. Maybe it was her quick wit. Maybe it was her confidence. Or maybe, Sirius thought with a grin, it was the fact that she didn’t seem to care about his usual charm.

“Oi, Pads,” James interrupted, elbowing Sirius in the ribs. “You’re staring again.”

Sirius blinked and tore his gaze away from Y/N, trying to look nonchalant. “What? No, I wasn’t.”

James snickered, adjusting his glasses. “Sure you weren’t. I’ve seen you look at plenty of girls before, but you’ve got a thing for Y/N, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sirius shot back, though his grin was still in place. “She’s just... interesting.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading beside them, looked up. “Interesting how? Because she doesn’t fall for your usual tricks?”

Sirius scowled good-naturedly. “I don’t have ‘tricks,’ thank you very much.”

“Mate, you’ve been trying the same moves since second year,” James teased. “You flash a grin, call them ‘love,’ and they’re all over you.”

Sirius shrugged, unbothered. “It works, doesn’t it?”

But Y/N, as Sirius had learned, wasn’t so easily charmed. Over the past few weeks, he’d thrown a few flirtatious comments her way, testing the waters, only to be met with either polite indifference or a sharp, sarcastic response. And somehow, instead of being discouraged, it only made him want to try harder.

James, ever the instigator, suddenly leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know what, Pads? I bet you can’t get Y/N to go out with you.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A bet, huh?”

James nodded, his smirk widening. “By the end of the month. If you can convince her to go out with you, you can take my Firebolt for a spin.”

Sirius’s expression shifted to one of excitement. “Your Firebolt?”

James shrugged. “If you fail, though, you’ve got to write Snape a love letter and leave it on his desk.”

Remus winced, looking up from his book. “Merlin, that’s cruel.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “Deal.”

From that day forward, Sirius Black had made it his mission to get Y/N’s attention. At every opportunity, he was there—flashing her one of his trademark smiles, throwing in flirtatious comments, even going so far as to publicly kneel in the middle of the Great Hall and loudly proclaim his love for her. Each time, Y/N would roll her eyes, or simply laugh it off, much to the amusement of her friends and the rest of Gryffindor House.

“Alright, Black, what is it this time?” Y/N asked one day after Sirius had cornered her in the hallway between classes, grinning like a cat who had just caught a mouse.

“Nothing much,” he said casually, though his tone was anything but innocent. “Just thought I’d remind you how breathtaking you are.”

Y/N’s lips twitched, clearly amused. “And I thought I’d remind you that I’m not interested.”

Sirius placed a hand over his heart, feigning deep injury. “You wound me, love.”

“Oh, you’ll survive,” Y/N quipped, brushing past him.

For the next few weeks, Sirius’s advances continued, much to the amusement of their classmates. Though Y/N remained unimpressed—or at least, she acted like it—there was a part of her that couldn’t help but feel a little flattered by his attention. It wasn’t that she was immune to Sirius’s charms, but she knew his reputation all too well. He was a notorious flirt, never serious about anyone, always moving on to the next girl before anyone could get too close. And Y/N had no interest in becoming just another name on his list.

That, and there was something else. Something deeper that tugged at her when she saw him smiling at her or calling her “love” in that playful tone. It was confusing, and Y/N wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Her friends, of course, were loving every minute of it.

“You should just say yes,” one of her friends suggested one evening as they lounged in the common room. “It’s obvious he likes you.”

“He doesn’t like me,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “He’s just bored. He’s probably got a bet going with James or something.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “And what if he does? Doesn’t mean he can’t actually like you.”

Y/N sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t know. He’s... Sirius. He’s a player. What if I say yes and he gets bored of me in a week?”

Her friend gave her a sympathetic smile. “I guess you won’t know unless you take the chance.”

Sirius, on the other hand, had started to realise something as the days passed. It had started as a bet, sure, but the more he pursued Y/N, the more he found himself genuinely interested in her. She wasn’t like the other girls he’d dated—not because she was different or special in some cliché way, but because she didn’t care about his reputation. She didn’t care that he was Sirius Black, the Marauder, the playboy. She saw through the façade, and that was something no one else had ever bothered to do.

One evening, after a particularly eventful day of Quidditch practice, Sirius found himself sitting in the common room, staring into the fire as he thought about Y/N. It was getting harder to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest every time she laughed or brushed him off with one of her sarcastic comments. He had never had to work this hard before, and the fact that he wasn’t giving up only confirmed what he had been trying to deny.

He liked her. For real.

And that realization terrified him.

It was just before the end of the month when Sirius finally made his move. He had waited for the perfect moment—when Y/N was alone, walking back to the common room after a late study session in the library.

“Y/N,” he called, jogging to catch up with her.

She glanced over her shoulder, clearly surprised. “Sirius? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his usual playful tone replaced by something more serious.

Y/N stopped, turning to face him fully. “Alright, talk.”

Sirius took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I’ve been messing around a lot. And I know you think I’m just doing this for fun, but I’m not. I really like you, Y/N. And I want to prove it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, taken aback by his sincerity. She had expected another playful remark, another attempt at flirting, but this... this was different.

“Sirius... I don’t know,” she began, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have a reputation.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “And I get why you’d be hesitant. But I’m serious about this. About you.”

Y/N hesitated, her mind racing. Part of her wanted to say yes—to take the chance and see if he was being truthful. But another part of her was still scared. Scared of being hurt, of being just another name on his list of conquests.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N finally spoke. “Alright, Black. I’ll go out with you.”

Sirius’s face lit up, but Y/N held up a hand, stopping him.

“But if you hurt me,” she added, her tone light but laced with a warning, “I’ll kill you.”

Sirius laughed, the sound full of genuine warmth. “Fair enough, love. Fair enough.”

And with that, their relationship began.

For the first time in his life, Sirius found himself genuinely invested in a relationship. It was no longer just about winning the bet, or impressing James, or upholding the carefree persona he’d always carried. Being with Y/N was different. She wasn’t someone who swooned at his flirtatious comments, or who melted at his grins. She challenged him, teased him, made him think. And for some strange reason, that made him want to be better for her.

At first, their relationship was lighthearted. Y/N was cautious, but Sirius was persistent, showing her bits of his personality that no one else ever really saw. He showed her his vulnerable side, the side that wasn’t always laughing and carefree, and slowly, Y/N’s walls started to come down.

They spent late nights together in the common room, Y/N tutoring him in subjects he never bothered to care about before, or Sirius making her laugh with ridiculous impressions of their professors. They snuck out past curfew to go flying under the stars, Sirius teaching her how to perfect her broom skills. He took her to Hogsmeade, where they spent afternoons wandering the village, holding hands and talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

Y/N found herself falling for him, even though she had promised herself she wouldn’t. She had been wary at first, scared that he was just playing with her, that it was all part of some elaborate joke. But the more time she spent with him, the more she realized that Sirius wasn’t the player she had always thought he was. He cared about her. He made her feel special, in a way that no one else ever had.

And that scared her.

Weeks passed, and their relationship grew stronger. Sirius had long since forgotten about the bet—James hadn’t brought it up in a while, and Sirius didn’t care to remind him. What started as a challenge had turned into something real, something that made Sirius feel... different.

But it wasn’t long before cracks started to form.

Y/N was happy—happier than she had been in a long time—but there was always a lingering doubt in the back of her mind. She couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this was too good to be true, that eventually, Sirius would get bored and move on. After all, he had done it with so many other girls before her. Why would she be any different?

And then came the whispers.

It started innocently enough—girls giggling in the corridors, casting glances at Y/N and Sirius whenever they passed. Y/N ignored it at first, brushing it off as jealousy or idle gossip. But then, one afternoon, she overheard something that made her blood run cold.

“So, have you heard about the bet?”

“What bet?”

“The one between Sirius and James. Apparently, Sirius is just trying to get Y/N to fall for him to win.”

Y/N froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt like the ground had just been pulled out from under her. A bet? Is that what this had all been about? Was everything Sirius had said, everything they had shared, just a game to him?

She felt sick. Her mind raced, replaying every conversation, every smile, every moment they had spent together. Had it all been a lie? Had he just been using her to win some stupid bet with his friends?

Y/N didn’t confront him. She didn’t say a word. Instead, she pulled away. Slowly, subtly, she started to distance herself from him. She stopped waiting for him after classes, stopped sitting next to him in the common room, stopped laughing at his jokes. Whenever he tried to talk to her, she found an excuse to leave. And Sirius, confused and hurt by her sudden coldness, didn’t know what he had done wrong.

He tried to ask her to figure out what had changed, but Y/N was guarded, her walls firmly back in place. She had let herself be vulnerable with him, and now she felt like a fool for doing so.

It had been a week since Y/N started ignoring him, and Sirius was at his wit's end. He didn’t understand what had happened. Everything had been going so well—he had been falling for her, truly falling—and now she wouldn’t even look at him.

One evening, after dinner, Sirius stormed into the Gryffindor common room, his frustration finally boiling over. He spotted Y/N sitting by the fire, her nose buried in a book, and without thinking, he marched over to her.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice laced with anger and confusion. “What the hell is going on?”

Y/N glanced up, her expression unreadable. “What do you mean?”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, pacing in front of her. “You’ve been ignoring me for a week. You won’t talk to me, you won’t look at me, and I have no idea why.”

She closed her book, her eyes meeting his with a coldness that made his heart sink. “Why do you care, Sirius? You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

Sirius frowned, his confusion deepening. “What are you talking about?”

Y/N stood up, crossing her arms over her chest. “The bet, Sirius. The one you made with James. You won. Congratulations.”

Sirius’s heart stopped. “What—no. Y/N, that’s not...”

“Don’t lie to me,” Y/N snapped, her voice shaking with anger and hurt. “I heard about it. This was all just a game to you, wasn’t it? You were just trying to win some stupid bet, and I was the idiot who fell for it.”

Sirius shook his head, his chest tight with panic. “Y/N, it wasn’t like that. It started as a bet, yeah, but—”

“But what?” Y/N interrupted, her voice rising. “You didn’t think I’d find out? You didn’t think it would hurt me?”

Sirius took a step forward, desperation in his eyes. “Y/N, please. I swear, it wasn’t about the bet anymore. I called it off. I didn’t care about it. I care about you.”

Y/N laughed bitterly, tears welling up in her eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re Sirius Black. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

Her words cut deep, and Sirius flinched, but he didn’t back down. “That’s not true. Y/N, I care about you more than anyone. I’ve never felt like this before. You’ve got to believe me.”

But Y/N was shaking her head, tears streaming down her face now. “I can’t. I can’t trust you, Sirius. How do I know you’re not just playing me again?”

Sirius’s heart broke at the sight of her tears, and he reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. “Because I’m not,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I love you, Y/N. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, but I do. I love you.”

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat. She wanted to believe him—God, she wanted to—but the pain of the betrayal was too fresh, too raw.

Sirius’s hands fell away, and he took a step back, his expression crumbling. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you. I just... I just wanted to be with you.”

Y/N wiped away her tears, her heart aching. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if she could forgive him. So she said nothing, and with one last heartbroken look, Sirius turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, her heart shattered.

For the next few days, Y/N felt like she was walking around in a fog. She couldn’t focus on her classes, couldn’t concentrate on her studies. All she could think about was Sirius—his words, his apology, the look of pain in his eyes when he had told her he loved her.

Part of her wanted to run after him, to tell him she forgave him, that she loved him too. But another part of her—the part that had been hurt, the part that had been lied to—couldn’t bring herself to do it.

It wasn’t until a few days later, when she overheard a conversation between James and Remus, that everything finally clicked into place.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything,” Remus was saying. “Sirius has been miserable.”

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I didn’t think she’d find out. And now he’s in pieces.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she crept closer, straining to hear.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive him?” Remus asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” James replied. “But I do know one thing—Sirius didn’t care about the bet. He hasn’t cared about it for weeks. All he cares about is her.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over her. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe Sirius had been telling the truth. Maybe, just maybe, he really did love her.

Without thinking, Y/N turned on her heel and ran. She didn’t know where Sirius was, but she had to find him. She had to tell him that she was sorry, that she believed him.

She found him sitting by the Black Lake, his head in his hands, staring out at the water. He looked so lost, so broken, that Y/N’s heart ached for him.

“Sirius,” she whispered, stepping closer.

He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise. “Y/N...”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I should have believed you. I should have trusted you. I... I love you too.”

Sirius stared at her, his breath catching in his throat. “You... you do?”

Y/N nodded, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “I do. I was scared, and I didn’t know if I could trust you, but... I love you, Sirius.”

In an instant, Sirius was on his feet, closing the distance between them. He cupped her face in his hands, his forehead resting against hers, and for the first time in days, he smiled.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with relief.

[loveandmurders]

In love with a dangerous wild cat II

Hi everyone, it's been a hot minute I was supposed to make a part 2 of this request :"Can you pls do a chucky x fem reader x tiffany where you reject them ...like hard ...bcs they are obsessive little fucks but you are the love of theire lifes so they try to kidnap you but you beat their ass"

You can find part 1 here.

Hope you'll enjoy ! <3

Warnings: no proof reading, dangerous!reader, paranoid!reader, a few strong words, mentions of killing people, of blood, of violence, of sexual activities (minors DNI),

You knew the darkest place to hide in, in every city you were staying at. You were a shadow, always lurking around, always finding a safe haven because “you never know what could happen”. You were paranoid, but for once, you were right to be.

You couldn’t believe that those two crazy bitches found your home so easily. They almost got you! You were so annoyed at them and at yourself. You didn’t really know what to do. You could hide, you could run away all you wanted, it seemed like they would always find you again.

Plus, you hated to run away. You were a smart and dangerous killer; you despised more than anything to be some sort of prey.

The more you thought about the situation, and the more obvious the solution was appearing to you: you had to kill them before they could kidnap you.

However a little voice reminded you that you had the opportunity to kill them twice or three times already, and yet, you never deadly hurt them. It made you wonder why.

You never hesitated before and it was clearly not the first time some people tried to capture you. And you always killed them and threw their bodies away. So why haven't you killed the other two already?

There was no way you were seeing something in them like they were seeing something in you. No way. You were a lone wolf, a wild cat. You never stayed around people, except to find new prey. You never loved anyone. You only killed and enjoyed yourself in the darkness.

You decided it was time to turn the game around. You were going to hunt them down and to kill them. Yes, it was the most logical thing to do and then you would be able to get back to your usual lonely life.

When you found Charles and Tiffany, they were arguing in a crappy motel room. They were arguing about you. They disagreed on what to do next. Charles thought they needed to capture you a little more violently. He wasn’t too happy to have to hurt you, but if it was the only way to overpower you, he was willing to try that. Tiffany wanted to try and seduce you. She wanted to give you a new knife for instance and to offer you someone to kill, someone you could lash all your anger on, so you would be more eager to speak to them.

You were about to enter the room by the window - and murdered the two of them - but someone knocked at the door, so you stayed hidden, ready to strike.

Charles opened the door and a very nice looking couple entered the room. Tiffany and Charles instantly changed their behaviour, to be their most charming and trusting looking selves.

You watched them with great interest as you saw them playing with their new toys. You had no idea who those people were, but it didn’t matter. You were enjoying the way Tiffany and Charles were hurting them, torturing them, killing them.

You hadn’t thought they could have been that interesting. That they could have been so hot and desirable. Maybe you have been wrong to want to kill him so quickly. Maybe you could have fun with them first.

You shook your head. No, it was a terrible idea. 

You were about to leave, when Charles and Tiffany started to kiss. They were covered in their victims blood, they were magnificent. Charles undressed Tiffany as her hands roamed his body in want.

But they suddenly stopped, both feeling eyes on them. They had been too busy before, but now they could tell someone was watching them. You moved just in time, so they didn’t see you, but they were worried someone saw them.

This game lasted for a few days: you would find them, observe them and find them very arousing before disappearing. They would try to find you, but always missing you. They weren’t very patient, so you were better at this in the long run than them.

It was getting very frustrating for them, because you were their mate, you were their missing piece, you were needed. Why couldn’t you understand how wanted you were? They would take such good care of you…

One evening, Charles needed some alone time so he left the motel room. Tiffany decided to take a bath and relax, with some soft music playing in the background. She closed her eyes, taking in the warmth surrounding her.

She heard a noise, but thought Charles forgot something. She jumped when she saw you sat down on a chair, in a corner of the bathroom. She wanted to get up but you aimed your gun at her, and you shook your head.

“How about you stay where you are?” you hummed and she nodded, biting her bottom lip in desire. Why were you so perfect?

“Of course, sweetface, anything you wanna from me” she purred “I was hoping you’d come to us” she added

“I’ve found you several times. I’ve seen your way” you admitted and she hummed. She was quite reassured you had been their stalker. It was very hot too.

“What do you want from us? From me?” she asked, hoping you would want her

“I dislike being hunted down. But I enjoyed watching you. I usually just seduce and kill. You have skills, the two of you, I can’t deny that. But I’m no prey.”

“Of course not. We don’t want to hurt you and even less to kill you. We want to have fun with you, to make you one of us, that’s all” she explained “Our love is obsessive, I’m sorry if we have been a little bit too… violent in our way to show it to you” she added with her doe eyes

“I don’t like people usually and I don’t give a fuck about their ‘love’. And yet I haven’t killed the two of you. This is… bothering me” you added, staring into her eyes

“Maybe because you find us interesting” she replied “Let me show you how interesting I can be” she winked

You didn't know how this happened, but you ended naked in her bath, making her scream in pleasure. You were so busy with her that you didn’t hear Charles coming back. He leaned against the bathroom frame, quite enjoying the view that was greeting him. He believed that the sacrifices he made to the devil finally worked.

You unwillingly stopped playing with her just before she could come, as you stilled when you noticed Charles, who was covered in blood. She whimpered.

“Oh don’t stop for me, I quite like this” he smirked.

“How about you finish her and I watch” you replied as you moved to sit down at the opposite of where Tiffany was. She pouted and pleaded with Charles with her eyes.

“Only if we can show you how good we are after” he replied and you nodded. So he entered the bath, fully clothed.

They did take care of you. But you refused to stay. They didn’t want to fight with you anymore, so they let you go, quite hopeful you would come back to them for more.

Which you did. And quite often, for pleasure at first, and then also when you wanted people to hunt with. 

They understood it was useless to force you to stay or to come back, because it always ended in you disappearing for weeks. They understood that you were willing to come back only if you were free to do so. And the fact you kept finding them meant you always knew where they were, and that you did love them, in your own way.

Even if Tiffany was impatient and even if Charles was frustrated, the best thing they could do was to wait for you to come back. And to do whatever you had in mind.

You were loyal to them in a way, because you didn’t let anyone else touch you and you always make sure that they were unharmed before going to bed - even if you weren’t planning on spending the night with them (they didn’t know about that).

Before travelling away, Tiffany and Charles always waited for you, so they could let you know where they were going. And you always followed them, even if you never promised them you would. They knew they better not ask anyways.

You were their wild girl, their wild cat. And like every cats, you always came back home on you own.

[andreal831]

I am so mad we didn’t get real mommy issues Elijah. Like we can read into it but no storyline abt him with his parents. When he went to Esther after the ball to apologise for his younger siblings’ behaviour and Esther cupped his cheek, THE FACE HE MADEEE. Like he made Esther doubt her plan for a second, he also out of all his siblings wanted to be a real family the most he wanted it to work sm. They didn’t even show us him that disappointed at Esther’s real plan.

I often wonder if Elijah's mommy issues are worse than his daddy issues. I could write a book on how badly they both messed all of their children up, but particularly Elijah.

As you said, you can tell this by his characterization, however, a lot of people overlook it because he is not as blatant with it as other's, namely Klaus. But how he interacts with everyone and even the relationships he has show just how badly these issues are.

From the flashbacks, and even his present day actions, you can tell that a lot was put on Elijah from a very young age. He feels personally responsible for his siblings. Not only their well-being but their behavior. The scene you pointed out perfectly shows this. I had to go back and make a gif of it. Esther is actively planning to kill her children and tells Elijah that she "wish[ed] the others were more like [Elijah]." Elijah doesn't fully get the gravity of it, but as the audience we do. Maybe if the others were more like Elijah, Esther wouldn't feel the need to kill them all. The pressure this simple 'compliment' puts on Elijah to keep his siblings in line is indicative of the guidance he has gotten his whole life. If he could keep his siblings well behaved, bad things would stop happening to them.

People call out his suits and his "cleanliness" but it's literally a trauma response. Esther, at one of the lowest moments in his life, used magic and told him that if he kept himself clean, everything would be okay. She then emphasizes this by coming back to life and reminding him that he is the 'moral' son, even knowing everything she knows about him.

This is reinforced when just a couple of years later, Esther imprisons and tortures Elijah, calling him a monster. She had all of the same knowledge in TVD as she did in TO. We can blame it on bad writing, but it's canon, so if we are accepting it as is, it's pure manipulation. It was a reminder from her that he allowed himself and his siblings to slip and that made him a monster.

Elijah throughout the shows struggles to connect with anyone in a meaningful way. Even those he loves outside of his family are easily discarded when necessary. While he feels guilty and lonely doing so, he does not hesitate to protect his family. The entirety of 'always and forever' is based on the fact that Esther and Mikael raised them to believe that their family was more important than anyone else. They were willing to anger nature in order to protect their family. To Elijah, that literally meant his siblings lives mattered more than anyone, including himself.

He so desperately wanted a family, wanted his family, to be happy and together. Yes, he makes plenty of mistakes along the way, but his underlying impulse is to protect his family. He wanted to make his parents proud, he wanted their love, but we never see him receive it. Even as a child, he is basically discarded. Elijah struggles with his self worth because of this. He even tells Hayley he has no purpose to his family if he isn't fighting to save them. He feels he has no worth outside of his role in saving his family.

Esther's neglect left lasting wounds in Elijah that are only brought up on occasion and then quickly glossed over. Even after he found out what he did to Tatia, we get like one episode for Elijah to grieve and then it shifts to him begging Klaus for forgiveness for some reason. Elijah never has a moment to just feel. His pain is always deprioritized in order to support his family.

Thanks for the ask!

[kerubimcrepin]

Wakfu OVA - Book 3, Dragon Mountain [PART 1]

Amalia he is handing you all out the Twelvian equivalent of six nuclear devices.

Amalia: [asks Joris]

Kerubim: [replies instead of Joris]

Second most batshit thing he's doing after the whole "speaking over him in private" thing. He's so evil dad energy.

Joris having to do the thing most of us know as "mom stooop she already got it."

AND after Keke stops talking he starts answering the question she asked him himself.

Once again, what seems like a normal interaction to most, is a goldmine to me.

Literally the funniest possible thing a guy who keeps losing Dofus, and had to stop being Ebony's guardian due to "interpersonal issues with the dragon", can say.

I never mentioned this previously, but one really cool detail is that even though he probably can't use them, the Dofus do react to Joris's touch — thanks to his dragonized nature.

Since the OVAs came out before the movie, this drove a lot of people a little bit crazy.

Big fan of Atch and Keke standing silently and looking vaguely worried about things.

I'M INSANE.

OF COURSE KERUBIM CREPIN WOULD REACT TO THIS. HE'S DAD.

I can read into things soooo well. I can read into them so easily. It comes like breathing to me.

[puts on tinfoil hat] Yes Kerubim wants to come back home together with Atcham and Joris, but also, Kerubim is seen pushing Joris towards his responsibilities, so I wonder if he feels a sense of guilt for the person Joris has become (guy who will die if he isn't saving the world).

lL;sdf;epor21301;;;; aksdkmaljwijahcfaw j

Anyway, I'm liking the fact that Kerubim and Atcham decided not to come with. Letting Joris have fun (type 3 fun, to be exact) with his friends <3 without making him feel weird by hovering around.

I have thought for years what Joris allowing Yugo to risk the end of the world for Tristepin might mean for his character. It doesn't feel out of character, far from it, — though it would be just as in-character if he was (softly) against this.

I think it's just one of Joris's many multitudes. He has very strong ("strong") morals, until people he cares about are involved.

Besides that, as someone who was alive before Ogrest's Chaos, I do think he'd love for the flooding of the world to stop, which might also be a factor in him not resisting the Brotherhood of Tofu's dangerous decisions here.

Just like OVA 2 was win after win after win after win for Crepinjurgenites, I think this OVA is kind of a big win for Adamai and Yugo fans.

Anyway the way Joris and Ruel are watching this happen is so fucking funny I can't. They really said 😬 and 😐

Joris hesitates before joining in.... because he's not a part of their friend group (but he wishes he were)

Personally, I think he joined in after seeing Otomai do so. It felt less awkward/presumptious. We don't see him lay his hand on Ruel — it cuts away to Otomai before that happens, which makes me consider this possibility.

OVA 3 makes me wish for an alternate season 3 that doesn't suck ass and actually handles Adamai's arc well. My suffering is so real and poignant.

THAT'S WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT. HE WAS SILENTLY STANDING THERE THINKING "Adamai is right though..." and doing NOTHING. Because he's sick in the head.

GET SCARED.

When I first watched the OVAs, I thought that these were all his past lives, and not the fucking Eliotropes. I wish life was kinder 😔

Joris "50 traumagenic psychological disorders" Jurgen ready to attack things at the drop of a hat like a wild animal.

Cutie-patootie shielding his eyes and groaning all pissed off at Yugo for doing whatever scary shit he just did.

Staring at Otomai.

While Otomai is staring at him.

He replies to her as if his own reaction to this wasn't O_O

Ngl I feel like having Grougalorasalar (the #coguette #female manipulator dragon), Dardondakal (??? the cringe warcrime dragon), and Goultard's Gay Lover Doomed By The Narrative inside your head would give anyone brainrot that leads them to cause an apocalypse to happen.

AND there are three other guys in there. And all six of them are eating holes into his brain.

Your honor, Ogrest just had a silly little time and we should forgive him for it.

[clears throat and approaches the mic] Ogrest and Otomai are good but. What if another father-son duo also had a scene where the son threatens to hurt his father if he doesn't leave him alone. Wouldn't it be cool. Haha. There are tons of father-son duos in this franchise! Tumblr user @jorisjurgen, also known as @kerubimcrepin, is not pointing at any pair of characters in particular — I just think a son should threaten to kill his father at least once more in this franchise.

[shuenkio]

Ah okay so for my request maybe an Enhypen x Little Brother reader who's like 19. Essentially their reaction to their little brother getting hit on by guys while they're just hanging out in the mall or something. Little brother is shy and chubby so his very more quiet and small. But yeah thank you!!!!!!!!!!!🫧♡♡♡♡♡♡have a good day!!!!!

🗣️ Your request is here pookie, it was fun writing this (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ enjoy~~ (not 100% accurate tho, I wrote most girls than guys 😭since I forget the part "guys")

-(⁠●⁠’⁠3⁠)⁠♡⁠(⁠ε⁠`⁠●⁠)-

ENHYPEN reaction when someone hit on ya 💘

Paring: Enha X male!(little brother)reader.

Genre: fluff, crack.

Cw: curse.

Summary: Enha as your older brother, their reaction when a stranger rizz you up.

No Proof-read ><

{Heeseung} Your older brother is fairly strict towards you, as he is overprotective of you and loves you deeply. He doesn't like it when he sees you sulking or feeling hurt. Your parents always trust him, leaving you under his supervision while they head off to work because you're still too clumsy to be left alone, even though you're an adult, well, 18 to be exact. While out at the store, he has you hold onto the groceries while he heads off to pick up some meat in another section. Suddenly, a girl comes up to you, thinking you are a cute little boy because you are wearing an oversized. hoodie before she initiates casual flirting with you, asking for your number. You are stunned and speechless, never imagining that anyone would even be interested in you. Your brother comes back and recognizes the situation immediately. He quickly explains to the girl that you are too young to be dating yet, and he doesn't allow it.

He's correct in his judgment, as you tend to fall in love easily, with simple crushes. However, when it comes to the end of the day, you ultimately prefer being on your own. You are upset about this, and want to speak for yourself, but your brother has already done the job for you. She is left speechless and turns her attention towards your older brother, asking for his number instead. He politely declines and takes your hand in his to lead you away. The girl is left speechless and doesn't know what to say. Your brother glances at you, sensing that you are disappointed, and leads you away from the situation.

"You're still a baby, no dating until i married"

"You're joking, you wanna left me alone with my Shadow?"

"Well yeah since you love korean idols than loving a real people"

Ouch

{Jay} He is like a second mother to you, a strict and protective older brother despite you being the younger sibling in the wealthy family. Everything that you do, from going out with your friends to prom parties and trips, is under his watch. He knows every move you make, and is always looking out for you. The thought of you getting your heart broken one day would destroy him, which is why he's so overprotective of you. On the day of your birthday party at his house, he wants you to be more social and step outside of your comfort zone.While he goes to greet his friends, a stranger approaches you, and starts up a small conversation, which eventually begins to flirt with you. You are extremely shy and hesitant, replying with short, simple responses whenever they ask you questions. Soon enough, your older brother sees you are surrounded by unfamiliar people, and gets furious. He shoos them away, in the nicest way possible, and grabs your hand to take you away immediately from the party.

In the car.

"Sorry m/n i should've known better, you probably feel-"

"No it's fine at least they're nice, flirting probably just a way to began a small talk too, I don't mind"

"Glad you're okay, I'll be more careful from now on"

"Come on, see! I'm laterally okay stop acting like you're giving birth to me~"

"Alright alright monkey, what do you want to eat, I'll take you anywhere you wish for, you didn't anything yet didn't you"

He definitely know me better than mom.

{Jake} Your highly attractive and good-looking older brother is akin to a golden retriever in human form, constantly clinging to you despite the fact that you are siblings. He enjoys spoiling you with many sweet treats and knows your favorite foods without a doubt. One day, he takes you to his office after you insist on seeing where he works. As soon as his female co-workers are introduced to you, they all begin cooing over you and paying you many flirtatious compliments, overwhelming and draining your introverted battery. Upon seeing this, your brother quickly swoops in, rescues you, and whisks you away.

"Now you'd better stay at home, since you've seen this place already lol - I doubt you wanna come back after this."

"I suppose ..."

{Sunghoon} Not only are you the introverted member of the household, but your older brother is two times more introverted than you are. Despite working as a professional figure skater and public personality, he is also a beloved celebrity known by many of his fans and interviewers. When asked about his siblings, he admits to having a little brother, but does not elaborate further and protects your identity.

Which mean He cherishes you dearly, taking great care in keeping you safe from any potential danger and harm, as your protector and older brother. One day when he takes you out in public for a beach trip with your family, one of his fans recognizes him and draws the attention of others. The crowd of people grows bigger and bigger, all of them in awe of your incredible visuals, some trying to approach you but unable to due to his bodyguard's intervention.

"Hey!! SUNGHOON'S BROTHER, GO ON A DATE WITH ME!"

"YOU'RE SO HANDSOME, OMG"

"I'LL DEFINITELY RIZZ YOU UP WHEN I SEE YOU NEXT TIME"

"LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT~"

"I told you it was a bad idea to come here!"

"Not my fault when you're a walking celebrity"

{Sunoo} Your vibrant, golden-hearted older brother is ever so cuddly and caring. He enjoys giving gifts to you, even if it's not your birthday, and has a penchant for pretty things. You and him have similarities in that regard, and he is a frequent gifter, bestowing you with various presents like perfume, skincare products, clothing, and more.

As the holiday season arrives, he's excited to take you to a new restaurant that's opened up, saying he's heard that it's trendy and cool. Of course, he, the sociable guy that he is, wants to try it out immediately, with you by his side. Once you arrive at the restaurant, the waiter promptly seats you and provides you with the menu. The waiter is struck by your adorable appearance and drops a smooth pick-up line in an attempt to flirt with you, which leaves your brother's jaw dropped on the ground in sheer disbelief.

This memorable moment would surely cause your brother to tease you endlessly while laughing, and might even regale mom and dad with this amusing tale as well.

"I'm not gonna lie bubble gum! You are sure adorable today with your pink sweater"

"Oh shut up, it's was... Kinda embarrassed"

You hide your face under the menu.

{Jungwon} Your adorable, spirited older brother is a bit like a real-life version of the cartoon duo Tom and Jerry, regularly teasing and pranking you. He's very loving and cares deeply for you, and even treats you to extra snacks when he's won a competition or returned home from taekwondo practice. However, despite being laid back and not strict, he would likely be upset if he saw a stranger approach you and try to get your number with a cheesy pickup line, as you're a gentle-hearted person. His protective instinct would quickly kick in, and he'd take you away from the situation immediately.

You, too, were shocked that someone would ask for your number in such a nonchalant fashion, when you're wearing an outfit that doesn't convey much self-confidence. However, your charming presence may have caught their attention, and they weren't entirely wrong about your appeal.

"Don't get me wrong, that person looks like they're from a gangster team"

"No cap, I'd have stay on the spot instead of responding back"

{Ni-Ki} Your older brother, your twin but older by two seconds, has a distinctly different personality from yours. He's talkative and outgoing, while you're more reserved and antisocial. The two of you share a striking resemblance, and as a result, people frequently mistake you for him, attempting to strike up conversations with you thinking you are him. One particularly embarrassing memory involves a girl trying to hit on you, using creative pickup lines, yet your brother didn't intervene to correct the misunderstanding and let it happen instead. Laughing his ass out as you struggling, before he said this.

"He's gay ~ he only like boys lady!! Lmfao"

"You fucking BITCH SHUT UP"

He's spit truth out actually. °_°

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

REQUEST: CLOSING.

Announcement 📣

[I'll update my next work on weekends since I have exams started from tomorrow]

[cynic-spirit]

Arches and Turns ii

warnings

excessively long because I have no self control

lots of fluff

As Benny steps into the quiet of his home, the familiar surroundings offer little comfort. He flicks on a light, the soft glow barely reaching the corners of the room. Normally, this space is his sanctuary, where he can unwind after a long ride, but tonight, the stillness only amplifies the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

He paces around, trying to shake off the frustration from earlier, but the image of Y/N—standing on that bridge, holding his lighter, her shy smile—won’t leave his mind. He can still hear her voice, soft and hesitant, yet somehow it had reached deep into him, stirring something he hadn’t felt in years.

Dropping down onto his worn leather couch, Benny lets out a heavy sigh. The realization hits him like a freight train—he’s in love.

It’s not just her beauty, though that’s what first drew him in. It’s the way she carries herself, the way she’s become such a constant in his life without either of them saying a word. Every day, he’s watched her from a distance, learning little things about her—how she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear when she reads, how her eyes light up at certain passages, how she seems to find peace on that bridge, just like he does.

And now, as he sits here, the silence pressing in on him, Benny realizes just how deeply she’s embedded herself in his heart. It’s more than just an attraction; it’s a connection he’s never felt before, something that’s grown quietly but powerfully over time.

“I love her,” he whispers to the empty room, the words feeling strange yet so undeniably true.

For a moment, fear grips him—fear of what this means, of how vulnerable it makes him. Benny has always been tough, someone who kept his emotions in check, never letting anyone get too close. But Y/N has changed that, without even trying. She’s made him want something more, something real.

As the night deepens, Benny finds himself filled with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. He knows he can’t just let this go. He has to tell her, has to find a way to bridge the gap between them. But for now, all he can do is sit with this newfound realization, letting it settle into his bones.

He loves her. The thought both terrifies and exhilarates him, but he knows one thing for sure—he can’t go back to the way things were. Not now, not after understanding just how much she means to him.

Y/N is a woman who naturally blends into the background, the kind of person who is often present but rarely noticed. She has a quiet demeanor, her voice soft and measured, never raised above what is necessary. There’s a serenity about her that draws people in, even if they can’t quite figure out why.

Physically, Y/N has long, flowing black hair that she often wears loose or in a simple braid, which falls gracefully down her back. Her eyes are a deep, expressive shade, often downcast or hidden behind a curtain of hair when she’s deep in thought. Her features are delicate, almost ethereal, with a quiet beauty that doesn’t demand attention but rather reveals itself the more you look at her.

Y/N’s shyness is not rooted in insecurity but rather in a preference for observation over participation. She’s a listener, someone who takes in the world around her with an attentive gaze, noticing details others might overlook. In a crowd, she’s the one who lingers at the edges, content to watch and listen rather than engage. Her words are few but thoughtful, often carrying more weight than those who speak freely.

Her reserved nature makes her somewhat mysterious to those around her. She doesn’t easily share her thoughts or feelings, not out of fear but because she values her privacy and the sanctity of her inner world. When she does speak, it’s with a quiet confidence that surprises people, as though the strength in her voice is something they didn’t expect.

Despite her shyness, there is an undeniable warmth to Y/N. She is kind, with a gentle heart that shows in small, thoughtful gestures—like remembering someone’s favorite tea or offering a comforting word at just the right moment. Her empathy is profound, though she rarely speaks of it, preferring to support others quietly, from behind the scenes.

Her reserved nature doesn’t mean she is without passion. Y/N is deeply passionate about the things she loves, though these are often private, solitary pursuits. Whether it’s a love for books, music, or nature, she immerses herself fully, finding solace in the quiet moments that these activities provide. It’s in these moments of solitude that she feels most like herself, free from the expectations of the world.

Y/N’s quietness can sometimes be misunderstood as aloofness, but those who take the time to know her understand that she is simply more comfortable in her own company or in the presence of those she trusts deeply. She has a small circle of close friends, people who see beyond her shy exterior to the thoughtful, compassionate person underneath.

In relationships, Y/N is slow to open up, but when she does, it’s with a depth of emotion that is both surprising and unwavering. She loves quietly but fiercely, with a loyalty that runs deep. She may not be the one to initiate grand gestures, but her love is shown in the small, consistent ways she cares for those important to her.

Ultimately, Y/N is a woman of quiet strength, someone who finds power in her solitude and peace in her reserved nature. She may not be the loudest voice in the room, but her presence is felt by those who take the time to truly see her.

Benny sits at the bar, nursing a drink, the loud music and the clamor of the club fading into the background as his thoughts drift to Y/N. He’s been on edge ever since that moment on the bridge, replaying the brief exchange over and over in his mind. He’s been coming to the club more often, partly to drown out his confusion and partly in the vain hope that he might see her again.

He’s halfway through his second drink when Kathy, a regular at the club and someone he’s known casually for a while, slides onto the stool next to him. They exchange pleasantries, talking about the usual things—the weather, the latest club gossip—before Kathy mentions something that immediately catches Benny’s attention.

“You know Y/N, right?” Kathy asks casually, swirling her cocktail.

Benny’s grip on his glass tightens. “Yeah, I know her,” he says, trying to keep his voice even, though his heart suddenly starts pounding in his chest. “She’s a friend of yours?”

Kathy nods, smiling softly. “Yeah, we’ve been friends for a long time. She’s such a sweet girl, isn’t she? Quiet, but really kind.”

Benny feels a rush of warmth at hearing someone else acknowledge the qualities in Y/N that he’s come to admire so deeply. But before he can say anything, Kathy continues, her tone shifting slightly.

“She’s been a bit distracted lately, though,” Kathy says, a hint of concern in her voice. “I guess it’s because of the whole marriage thing.”

Benny’s heart skips a beat. “Marriage thing?” he repeats, his voice a little more strained than he’d intended.

Kathy nods again, oblivious to the way Benny’s world is starting to tilt. “Yeah, she’s sort of in an arranged marriage situation. Her family’s been setting it up, and it sounds like it’s going to happen pretty soon.”

The words hit Benny like a punch to the gut. His breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he feels like the room is spinning. Y/N—his Y/N—is about to marry someone else? The thought is too much to bear. He’d been so focused on his own feelings, on figuring out how to express what she meant to him, that he’d never considered the possibility that she might already be spoken for.

“Are you okay, Benny?” Kathy’s voice pulls him back to the present, her expression tinged with concern.

He forces a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… surprised, I guess. I didn’t know she was engaged.”

Kathy nods sympathetically. “Yeah, it’s kind of a traditional thing. Her family’s really involved, so she’s going along with it, but I think she’s a bit torn about the whole situation.”

Benny doesn’t trust himself to speak. He can feel the cracks forming in the armor he’s built around his heart, the hope he’d been clinging to shattering with each passing second. The idea of Y/N with someone else—someone who isn’t him—tears him apart in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

He finishes his drink in one gulp, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the pain. Kathy continues talking, but her words become a blur in his mind. All he can think about is Y/N, standing on that bridge, and how he might never get the chance to tell her how he feels.

When Kathy finally excuses herself to join some friends, Benny remains at the bar, staring blankly at his empty glass. His mind is racing, trying to process the news, but all he feels is a crushing sense of loss. He’d been so close to something real, something that could have changed his life. And now, it’s slipping through his fingers, leaving him hollow and aching.

As the night wears on, Benny knows he has to make a decision. He can either let Y/N go, accepting that she belongs to someone else, or he can fight for her, even if it means going against tradition and risking everything.

But for now, all he can do is sit in the club, surrounded by people yet utterly alone, his heart breaking at the thought of losing the woman he’s come to love.

Benny stumbles out of the club, the pounding music fading into the background as he steps into the cool night air. The noise and chaos inside had been overwhelming, but out here, the quiet is almost suffocating. His mind is a tangled mess of emotions—shock, confusion, and a deep, gnawing sense of loss. He can’t make sense of it all, can’t quite grasp the reality that Y/N might belong to someone else.

He lights a cigarette, hoping the familiar routine will calm his racing thoughts, but even the nicotine does little to soothe the turmoil inside him. As he takes a drag, he notices Kathy standing a few feet away, also smoking, her eyes scanning the crowd that’s trickling out of the club.

She catches his eye and gives him a small, almost apologetic smile. “Tough night, huh?”

Benny nods, not trusting himself to speak. He’s afraid his voice might betray the storm brewing inside him. But before he can say anything, Kathy’s gaze shifts to something—or someone—behind him.

“There he is,” she says, her tone casual, as if pointing out someone she knows from around town. “That’s Michael, the guy Y/N’s supposed to marry.”

Benny turns slowly, following her gaze. At first, he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Michael is standing near a parked car, chatting with a couple of friends, oblivious to the fact that he’s just become the focus of Benny’s intense scrutiny.

He’s well-dressed, tall, and has an air of confidence about him. The kind of guy who looks like he’s got everything figured out, who probably hasn’t had to fight for much in his life.

Jealousy strikes Benny like a lightning bolt, quick and searing, igniting a fire in his chest that burns with anger. It’s not just the idea of Y/N with someone else that infuriates him—it’s the thought that this guy, this Michael, gets to be with her, to hold her, to love her.

Benny clenches his fists, feeling the surge of emotions that he’s been trying to push down all night. The jealousy is almost overwhelming, an acidic mix of anger and pain that tightens his throat and churns his stomach.

“Can’t believe she’s with him,” he mutters, more to himself than to Kathy. His voice is rough, barely disguising the bitterness he feels.

Kathy shrugs, taking another drag of her cigarette. “It’s more of a family thing, you know? Arranged marriages are like that. Doesn’t mean she’s happy about it.”

But her words do little to ease the turmoil within Benny. All he can focus on is Michael standing there, so unaware of the war raging in Benny’s mind. He imagines confronting him, demanding answers, maybe even throwing a punch just to feel some kind of release from the frustration building inside him. But deep down, Benny knows that won’t change anything.

The thought of Y/N being tied to Michael feels like a betrayal, though he knows it’s irrational. She’s never promised him anything, never even hinted at a future together. But that doesn’t change the fact that, somewhere along the line, Benny had started imagining what it would be like if she were his—if she chose him.

His jaw tightens as he forces himself to look away from Michael, trying to push down the wave of anger threatening to overtake him. It doesn’t matter who this guy is or how perfect he might seem. What matters is what Benny is going to do about it—whether he’s going to let Y/N slip away without a fight or whether he’s going to try to win her, even if it means risking everything.

Kathy finishes her cigarette and flicks the butt into the gutter, glancing at Benny with a sympathetic look. “You okay?” she asks, her voice softer now, sensing the struggle he’s going through.

Benny takes a deep breath, the air cold in his lungs, but it does nothing to cool the fire raging within him. “Yeah,” he lies, his voice low and strained. “I’m fine.”

But he’s not. He’s far from fine. As he watches Michael climb into his car and drive off, Benny knows that something has to give. He can’t keep feeling like this, torn between his love for Y/N and the painful reality of her impending marriage.

He stubs out his cigarette and looks at Kathy, giving her a tight nod before walking toward his bike. He doesn’t know what his next move is, but he knows one thing for sure—he can’t just stand by and do nothing.

Y/N and Michael stood on the old stone bridge, the golden light of the setting sun casting long shadows around them. The water below shimmered, but neither of them seemed to notice the beauty of the evening. Their faces were tense, reflecting the weight of the conversation that was unfolding.

“I just… I don’t know how to tell them,” Michael admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “My parents have this idea of me, this perfect image, and I’m terrified of shattering it.”

Y/N nodded, understanding all too well the pressure that came from family expectations. “But you have to, Michael. You can’t keep living a lie, and neither can I. If we go through with this marriage, we’ll both be miserable, and it won’t take long before everyone else is too.”

Michael looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think I might be gay.”

Y/N’s expression softened, her heart aching for him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Then you need to tell them. It’s going to be hard, but it’s the only way. This marriage… it isn’t right for either of us.”

Michael let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “I know. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, but the thought of disappointing them... it kills me. They’ve worked so hard to build our business, and they see this marriage as a way to secure our future.”

Y/N squeezed his arm gently. “But your happiness matters too. You can’t sacrifice yourself for the sake of business. And neither can I. We need to be honest with them, even if it means disappointing them. We owe it to ourselves to live authentically, and not just for their sake.”

Michael looked up at her, a small, grateful smile forming on his lips. “You’re right. We can’t let them dictate our lives. I’ll talk to them. I just… I hope they understand.”

“They will,” Y/N assured him. “Maybe not at first, but eventually they will. And if they don’t, at least you’ll know you were true to yourself. That’s what matters.”

Michael nodded, his resolve hardening. “Thank you, Y/N. I’m glad we talked. I feel like I can actually breathe now.”

Y/N smiled back at him, a warmth in her eyes. “Me too. We’ll get through this, together.”

Without thinking, Michael pulled her into a friendly hug, a gesture of solidarity rather than romance. They both knew that whatever their families had planned, they were in this together, as friends, not as lovers.

But from a distance, Benny was watching. Hidden in the shadows near his usual spot, he had lit cigarette after cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a suffocating shroud. He could see them clearly, standing close, talking, and then... hugging.

The sight made his blood boil, anger and jealousy roaring through him like a wildfire. His hand trembled slightly as he brought the cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside him.

To Benny, it looked like betrayal, like Y/N had chosen Michael over him, and the sight of them embracing felt like a punch to his gut. He felt like he was being suffocated, the jealousy tightening around his chest like a vise, making it hard to breathe. Every puff of smoke he exhaled felt like a desperate attempt to release the pressure building inside him, but it only seemed to make it worse.

His mind raced, thoughts tangled in a chaotic mess. Was this really happening? Was Y/N really going to marry that guy? The thought of Michael holding her, kissing her, loving her, drove Benny to the brink of madness. He couldn’t stand it. The jealousy gnawed at him, turning his vision red with rage and heartache.

He took another drag, the cigarette burning down to the filter. His teeth clenched, and his fists balled up at his sides, desperate to do something—anything—to stop what he thought was happening. He couldn’t lose Y/N, not like this, not to someone like Michael.

As the two of them pulled away from their hug, Benny crushed the cigarette beneath his boot, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The jealousy that consumed him was like poison, seeping into every fiber of his being. He could feel his control slipping, the calm, collected exterior he usually maintained cracking under the weight of his emotions.

He didn’t know what he was going to do, but one thing was clear—he couldn’t stand by and let Y/N slip through his fingers. He had to do something before it was too late.

Benny had been avoiding the bridge for days now, choosing instead to drown his thoughts in the dim, smoky atmosphere of the club. He tried to distract himself with the usual rowdiness—the blaring music, the clinking of glasses, the crude laughter of his fellow bikers—but nothing could pull him out of the dark cloud that had settled over him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Y/N and Michael on that bridge, locked in an embrace that haunted him like a nightmare.

He sat at his usual spot, slouched over a drink, staring blankly at the worn wood of the table in front of him. His fingers drummed anxiously, betraying the turmoil inside him. He couldn’t shake the anger, the jealousy, the deep sense of loss that gnawed at him. What had life thrown at him? First, he’d lost the girl he was falling for to some arranged marriage, and now this?

Kathy and Johnny sat across from him, their conversation buzzing around him like background noise. Benny hardly paid attention, lost in his own thoughts until Johnny’s voice cut through.

“Hey Benny, meet the new guy. Fresh blood for the Vandals,” Johnny said with a grin, clapping the newcomer on the back.

Benny looked up, and the sight of Michael standing there, looking just as polished and out of place as he had on the bridge, sent a fresh wave of anger through him. Michael? Here? In his club?

Michael extended his hand toward Benny, a polite smile on his face. “Nice to meet you.”

Benny stared at the outstretched hand, his jaw tightening. His fists clenched under the table, and he felt a surge of anger that nearly made him snap. He didn’t say a word, didn’t move an inch to shake Michael’s hand. Instead, he gave him a cold, hard stare before abruptly standing up and moving to another table without a word.

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Johnny and Kathy exchanged a confused look as Benny walked away. Michael let his hand drop awkwardly, clearly puzzled by the hostility.

Kathy watched Benny go, her brows furrowing with concern. She waited a moment before excusing herself. “I’ll be right back,” she told Johnny, before heading over to where Benny had seated himself, sulking in a corner booth.

“Why were you so curt with him?” Kathy asked as she slid into the booth across from Benny.

Benny didn’t respond immediately, his eyes locked on the amber liquid in his glass. He swirled it around absently, trying to swallow down the emotions that were threatening to spill out. He felt like he was on the verge of exploding, the mix of anger and confusion choking him.

Kathy leaned in closer, her voice softening. “Benny, what’s going on? Why are you so upset? Is it about Y/N?”

The mention of Y/N’s name made Benny’s chest tighten. He let out a harsh breath, rubbing his forehead. “You wouldn’t understand, Kathy.”

“Try me,” she pressed, her tone gentle but insistent.

Benny hesitated before finally speaking, his voice low and bitter. “First, I find out Y/N is getting married to that guy. Then I come here, trying to get away from it all, and what do I see? Him walking into my club like he belongs here. It’s like the universe is trying to screw me over.”

Kathy’s expression softened with understanding. “Benny, I didn’t know it was eating at you like this. But… you should know, the engagement is off.”

Benny’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “What?”

Kathy nodded, a slight smile playing on her lips. “Apparently, Michael’s gay. That’s why they called off the engagement. Y/N and Michael agreed it wasn’t right to go through with it. So, you don’t have to worry about losing her to him.”

A wave of relief washed over Benny, so strong that he almost felt dizzy. The tightness in his chest eased, and for the first time in days, he felt like he could breathe again. He leaned back in his seat, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the realization sunk in.

“Is that true?” Benny asked, almost afraid to believe it.

“Yeah, it is,” Kathy confirmed, watching his reaction closely. “They’re just friends now, nothing more.”

Benny felt a rush of joy, an overwhelming sense of relief that made him want to laugh out loud. Y/N wasn’t going to marry Michael. She wasn’t going to be with him, and maybe, just maybe, that meant Benny still had a chance.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t know what to say… I feel like an idiot.”

Kathy smiled, leaning back in her chair. “You’re not an idiot, Benny. You care about her. And now that you know the truth, maybe you can stop sulking and actually do something about it.”

Benny nodded, a renewed sense of determination filling him. He wasn’t going to let this chance slip away. Not now, not after everything he’d been through. He still had a shot with Y/N, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

Benny’s heart pounded as he made his way to the stone bridge, the familiar path both comforting and nerve-wracking after the days he’d spent avoiding it. The evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth. As he approached, he saw her—Y/N—leaning against the bridge, a book in hand, her long black hair gently blowing in the breeze.

The sight of her filled him with a mix of emotions: relief, nervousness, anticipation. He hadn’t seen her in days, and now that she was here, he found himself unsure of what to say. But before he could overthink it, Y/N looked up, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“Hey there, I haven’t seen you in a while,” she greeted him, her voice light and welcoming.

Benny rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face. “Yeah, I’ve been a little out of sorts,” he admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed as he said it. He could tell she noticed the awkwardness in his tone, but there was no judgment in her eyes, just a quiet understanding.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her gaze softening. “How have you been?” she asked, her tone genuinely curious.

Benny took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “It’s been… rough, I guess. But I’m here now, so I guess that’s something.” He chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension he felt inside.

Y/N nodded, as if she understood perfectly. “I get that,” she said, her eyes drifting back to the water beneath the bridge. “It’s been a whirlwind of a week for me too, but it’s nothing to worry about. Things are better now.”

She let out a small sigh, one that seemed to carry the weight of everything she’d been through. Benny watched her closely, noticing how she seemed both relieved and tired, as if she had finally come out the other side of a storm.

Then, she smiled at him, a bit of mischief in her eyes. “Boy, I really could use a cigarette right now.”

Benny’s heart skipped a beat at her words. He quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack, flipping it open. Before he could offer her one, Y/N shook her head, smiling. “You know what? Let’s share one. I’ve been trying to cut back.”

Benny’s cheeks flushed at the suggestion, a warmth spreading through him that he hadn’t expected. “Uh, sure,” he stammered, feeling strangely shy. He handed her a cigarette and struck a match, the tiny flame flickering between them as he lit it.

As she took the first drag, she held the cigarette out to him, their fingers brushing slightly as he took it from her. Benny felt his heart skip another beat at the small contact, a sensation that seemed to linger long after the moment passed.

“Thanks,” Y/N said, exhaling slowly, the smoke curling up into the evening air. She leaned back against the bridge, visibly relaxing as the nicotine worked its magic.

Benny took a drag from the cigarette she’d just handed him, the taste of it mingling with the faint trace of her on the filter. The silence between them was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. But there was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to ask.

“You mentioned it’s been a crazy week,” Benny began cautiously, his voice low. “Is everything okay?”

Y/N took another drag when he passed the cigarette back, her eyes focused on the horizon as she blew out the smoke. “Yeah, it’s just… a lot of stuff happening all at once. Family, expectations, trying to figure out what I want.” She paused, as if searching for the right words. “I guess I had to face some things I’ve been avoiding.”

Benny nodded, feeling a pang of empathy. “That sounds tough.”

“It was,” Y/N admitted, her voice tinged with a vulnerability that Benny hadn’t heard before. “But I’m glad I did. It’s weird, but even though it was hard, I feel like I’m finally starting to figure things out. Like I’m not just going along with what everyone else wants.”

“That’s good,” Benny said, genuinely relieved to hear it. “You deserve to do what makes you happy, Y/N.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes softening as she smiled. “Thank you, Benny. That means a lot to me.”

He felt his chest tighten at the way she said his name, so gentle and full of warmth. He took a slow drag from the shared cigarette, using the moment to steady himself. “And, uh, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. I mean, I’m not great with advice or anything, but… I’m a good listener.”

Y/N’s smile widened, a light laugh escaping her. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her tone teasing but kind. “And you know, you’re not as bad as you think. Talking to you… it’s nice. It’s easy.”

Benny felt a warmth spread through him at her words, a sense of connection that was almost intoxicating. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had made him feel this way—like he mattered, like he wasn’t just another face in the crowd.

For a while, they stood there in silence, side by side, smoking and watching the sun dip lower in the sky. Benny found himself stealing glances at her, the way the fading light played off her features, the way her hair framed her face.

Finally, Y/N broke the silence. “I’m glad you came back to the bridge tonight, Benny,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his once again. “I missed seeing you around.”

Benny’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed to hear those words. “I missed you too,” he replied, his voice quiet but sincere.

In that moment, he felt like maybe, just maybe, things were starting to fall into place. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but for now, he was content just being there with her, sharing a cigarette and a quiet conversation on the bridge. It was enough.

As they finished the cigarette, Y/N took one last drag and then extinguished the butt against the stone of the bridge, her eyes drifting over to Benny’s motorcycle parked nearby. She seemed to study it for a moment, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Your bike is beautiful,” she said softly, the admiration in her voice unmistakable.

Benny followed her gaze to his motorcycle, his pride and joy. He had spent countless hours maintaining it, making sure it was always in perfect condition. But hearing her compliment it—it meant something different, something more. Her words stirred something in him, giving him the push he needed to finally take a step forward.

He swallowed, feeling his nerves dance in his stomach, but he knew he had to say it. Now or never, he told himself.

“You wanna go for a ride?” he asked, his voice coming out steadier than he felt inside.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the offer. For a moment, she looked uncertain, almost as if she were weighing the idea in her mind. “I don’t know, Benny,” she began, her tone hesitant. “I haven’t ever sat on one. What if I fall down?”

She let out a light, nervous laugh, and Benny felt his heart swell at the sound. It was such a rare, beautiful thing to hear her laugh like that, and he couldn’t help but savor it, wanting to bottle it up and keep it with him forever.

Y/N continued, her laughter turning a bit more playful, “You’ll be imprisoned for murder charges if I fall.”

Benny grinned, her words easing the tension that had been building up inside him. She had a way of doing that—making him feel like everything was okay, like they were just two people enjoying each other’s company, with no expectations or pretenses. It was something he cherished, something he didn’t want to lose.

Taking a deep breath, Benny stepped closer to her, his heart pounding in his chest. They were inches apart now, and he could see the slight surprise in her eyes as she looked up at him. But there was no fear, no apprehension—only that same warmth, that same trust that had been slowly growing between them.

“I won’t let you fall down,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet, unwavering certainty.

The words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away—the world, the bridge, the evening sky. All that mattered was her, standing there with him, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from her.

Y/N’s gaze searched his, as if she was trying to see into his soul, trying to understand the depth of what he was saying. She didn’t move, didn’t pull away, and that gave Benny the courage to continue.

“I promise,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and Benny could see the conflict in her eyes—the fear of the unknown, the hesitation of stepping out of her comfort zone. But there was something else too, something that mirrored the feelings he had been wrestling with for weeks now: a longing for connection, for something real and true.

Y/N’s lips parted as if she was about to say something, but instead, she just nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement that spoke volumes. Benny’s heart soared at her silent agreement, and he felt a rush of warmth and protectiveness wash over him.

For so long, he had been watching her from afar, admiring her beauty, her quiet strength. But now, she was here, so close that he could see the delicate strands of hair framing her face, could feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath.

In that moment, Benny realized that this was more than just a crush, more than just infatuation. He cared about her—deeply. And he wanted to show her that she could trust him, that he would be there for her, no matter what.

“Okay,” Y/N finally whispered, her voice shaky but resolute. “Let’s do it.”

Benny smiled, a wave of relief and joy washing over him. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, and led her toward the bike. Every step felt like a victory, every second a confirmation that this—whatever it was between them—was real.

As they reached the bike, Benny handed her a helmet, his fingers brushing against hers for a brief moment. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a shiver down his spine, a reminder of how much he had wanted this, how much he had longed for this connection.

“Trust me,” he said again, his voice soft but firm, as he watched her slip the helmet on.

She looked at him, her eyes shining with a mixture of excitement and nerves, and Benny knew that this was a moment he would remember for the rest of his life. As she climbed onto the bike behind him, her arms hesitantly wrapping around his waist, he felt an overwhelming sense of purpose—a determination to protect her, to make sure she was safe.

With a deep breath, Benny started the engine, the familiar roar filling the air. As they took off down the road, the wind rushing past them, he could feel her grip tighten around him, and it made him smile.

He had promised her that he wouldn’t let her fall, and he meant it—with every beat of his heart

As they drove through the winding roads, Y/N's arms wrapped tightly around Benny's waist, her grip firm yet tender. Benny couldn't help but revel in the sensation of her closeness—the way her body pressed against his, the warmth of her embrace seeping through the leather of his jacket. Each twist and turn of the road only brought them closer, her hold tightening with every slight movement of the bike.

But it was more than just the physical closeness that made Benny's heart race. It was the way her warm breath grazed his neck with every exhale, sending a shiver down his spine. He could feel the gentle rhythm of her breathing, almost in sync with the hum of the engine beneath them. The sensation was intoxicating, a sweet torture that made him wish the ride would never end.

Every now and then, Benny would catch a faint whiff of her scent—something soft and delicate, like fresh flowers or a hint of vanilla. It mingled with the crisp evening air, creating a heady mix that made it hard for him to focus on anything other than her. He had driven this route countless times before, but tonight, it felt entirely different, like he was experiencing it all for the first time with her by his side.

Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and an instant, Benny slowed the bike to a stop. They had reached their destination—a secluded spot on the outskirts of town, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the world. As the bike came to a halt, Benny gently patted Y/N’s hands, signaling that it was time to dismount. She loosened her grip around his waist, and he reluctantly let go of the warmth and comfort of her touch.

Benny swung his leg over the bike and turned to face her, offering his hand to help her down. Y/N accepted it, her fingers intertwining with his as she carefully stepped off the bike. Her eyes were wide with a mix of wonder and exhilaration, her cheeks slightly flushed from the ride. Benny couldn’t help but smile at the sight—she looked radiant, almost glowing in the dim light of the setting sun.

“This way,” he said softly, still holding her hand as he led her toward the edge of the clearing.

The place he had brought her to was a hidden gem, a spot he had discovered long ago but had never shared with anyone—until now. It was a small, grassy hill overlooking a vast expanse of countryside, where rolling fields stretched out as far as the eye could see. The landscape was bathed in the warm, golden hues of the setting sun, casting long shadows that danced across the ground.

In the distance, a river wound its way through the fields, its surface shimmering like liquid gold under the fading light. The gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze and the soft chirping of crickets created a serene, almost magical atmosphere. It was a place of peace and beauty, a perfect escape from the world—a place where time seemed to stand still.

Y/N’s eyes widened in awe as she took in the scene before her, her breath catching in her throat. “It’s… beautiful,” she whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

Benny nodded, his heart swelling with pride and something deeper, something more profound. He had wanted to share this with her, to show her this place that had always brought him solace. But seeing her reaction—seeing how much she appreciated it—made it all the more special.

He watched as Y/N slowly walked to the edge of the hill, her gaze sweeping across the horizon. She stood there for a moment, soaking it all in, before turning back to him with a soft smile. “Thank you for bringing me here, Benny,” she said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.

Benny shrugged, trying to play it cool even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “I’m glad you like it,” he replied, his voice betraying the warmth he felt inside.

She took a step closer to him, her eyes locking onto his. For a moment, they stood there in silence, the world around them fading away until it was just the two of them, bathed in the soft glow of the twilight. Benny could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken connection between them growing stronger with each passing second.

He wanted to say something, to tell her how much this moment meant to him, how much she meant to him. But as he looked into her eyes, he realized that he didn’t need to say anything at all. It was all there, in the way she looked at him, in the way she smiled, in the way she had held onto him so tightly during the ride.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the landscape in shades of pink and purple, Benny knew that this was a moment he would never forget. And as he stood there with Y/N by his side, he couldn’t help but feel that, for the first time in a long time, everything was exactly as it should be.

As the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in deep purples and soft pinks, Benny felt a surge of urgency in his chest. The serenity of the scene around them, the quiet beauty of the countryside, and the warmth of Y/N's presence all combined to create a perfect moment—one he knew he couldn't let slip away.

His heart pounded against his ribcage, a drumbeat that echoed in his ears as he watched Y/N standing there, gazing out over the landscape. She looked so peaceful, so content, and yet Benny could see the lingering traces of something else—something that mirrored the loneliness he had felt for so long. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for, the moment he knew he had to seize before it was too late.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he took a step closer to her. His nerves jangled, but he pushed them aside, focusing instead on the truth that had been growing inside him for weeks now. He had to tell her. He had to let her know how he felt, even if it meant risking everything.

"Y/N," he began, his voice quiet but firm, "there's something I need to tell you."

She turned to face him, her expression curious, her eyes soft and open. Benny could see the concern in her gaze, the way she searched his face as if trying to understand what was going on inside his head. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, but he knew there was no turning back now.

"I’ve been coming to this bridge every day, watching you, admiring you from afar," he continued, his voice growing more confident as he spoke. "At first, I didn’t know why. I thought maybe I was just drawn to the peace of it all, to the way you seemed so content here. But the more I watched you, the more I realized it wasn’t the bridge that kept bringing me back. It was you."

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, but she remained silent, letting him continue.

"I don’t know how to explain it," Benny said, running a hand through his hair, "but you’ve become something I can’t get out of my head. Every day, I find myself thinking about you, wondering what you’re doing, how you’re feeling. And when I saw you with Michael, I... I realized how much it hurt to think that you might not feel the same way about me."

He paused, taking another deep breath as he searched for the right words. "Y/N, I don’t know if this makes any sense, but I think... I think I’m falling for you. I don’t know how or when it happened, but it did. And I just had to tell you, because I can’t keep it to myself any longer."

There it was, out in the open, hanging in the air between them like a fragile thread. Benny held his breath, waiting for her reaction, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of his chest.

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Benny felt a flicker of panic, wondering if he had made a mistake, if he had just ruined everything. But then, slowly, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and her eyes softened with something that looked almost like relief.

"Benny," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I had no idea you felt that way."

His heart skipped a beat at her words, but he forced himself to stay calm, to let her finish.

"I’ve been coming to that bridge because it’s the one place where I can think, where I can be alone with my thoughts," she continued, her gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "But lately, I’ve noticed you too. I’ve seen you watching me, and I couldn’t help but wonder why."

She took a step closer to him, her hand reaching out to gently touch his arm. "And now that you’ve told me how you feel... I think I need to tell you something too."

Benny felt his breath catch in his throat as he waited, his entire world narrowing down to this one moment.

"I’ve been feeling lost," Y/N admitted, her voice tinged with sadness. "This whole arranged marriage thing with Michael... it’s been weighing on me, making me feel like I have no control over my own life. But when I’m at the bridge, and when I see you... it’s like everything else fades away. You make me feel seen, Benny, in a way I haven’t felt in a long time."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with something that made Benny’s heart swell with hope. "I don’t know what this is between us," she said softly, "but I think I’d like to find out."

Benny felt a wave of relief wash over him, followed by a surge of joy so powerful it nearly took his breath away. He reached out, taking her hand in his, and squeezed it gently.

"I won’t let you fall, Y/N," he said, echoing his earlier promise, but this time with a deeper meaning behind the words. "Not now, not ever."

And as they stood there, hand in hand, with the last light of the day fading into night, Benny knew that this was only the beginning of something beautiful—something worth fighting for, something worth cherishing.

As Benny stood there with Y/N, the world around them seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of them and the soft, twilight air that surrounded them. The intensity of the moment made time feel like it was stretching out, each second laden with emotion.

Y/N’s gaze was fixed on Benny’s, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of the fading light. The unspoken connection between them grew stronger with each passing moment, an invisible thread pulling them closer. Benny could see the slight tremor in her lips, the way her breath quickened as she leaned in ever so slightly. It was as if they were both caught in a magnetic pull, irresistibly drawn to each other.

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N’s hand gently cupped Benny’s face, her touch warm and soft. Her fingers traced the contours of his cheek with a tenderness that made his heart race. Benny’s own hands, trembling with anticipation, moved to rest on her waist, pulling her closer.

And then, as if by unspoken agreement, their lips met. The kiss was gentle at first, a hesitant brush of warmth and affection. But as their lips lingered, the initial shyness gave way to a deeper, more passionate connection. Benny felt an explosion of sensations—a heady mix of sweetness and urgency, a melding of breaths and heartbeats that seemed to synchronize perfectly.

Y/N’s lips were soft and pliant against his, her taste a delicate blend of the cigarette they had shared and something uniquely her. Benny lost himself in the sensation, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The kiss deepened, their lips moving together with a newfound intensity that conveyed everything they had yet to say.

Benny’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the realization that he was completely, utterly lost in this moment. He was a goner now, overwhelmed by the rush of feelings that surged through him. His hands tightened around Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer, as if trying to merge their bodies into one.

The world seemed to dissolve around them, leaving only the pure, unfiltered connection between their lips. Benny could feel the warmth of her breath, the gentle flutter of her eyelashes against his cheek, and the unmistakable spark of something profound and undeniable. Every touch, every movement was a confirmation of what he had felt all along—a deep, consuming affection that had finally found its expression.

As they slowly pulled away, their foreheads resting together, Benny looked into Y/N’s eyes with a mixture of wonder and longing. The kiss had changed everything, had crystallized what he had known deep down but had struggled to express. In that moment, Benny knew that whatever lay ahead, he was completely and irrevocably committed to Y/N. He was a goner now, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Y/N looked up at Benny, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. Her voice was soft, almost shy, as she asked, "Am I your girlfriend now, Benny?"

Benny’s heart surged with an overwhelming mix of relief and joy. Without missing a beat, he looked deeply into her eyes, his expression filled with both affection and determination. "Fuck yes!" he declared, his voice raw with emotion.

In that instant, he pulled her into another kiss, this one more urgent, filled with the intensity of everything he had wanted to say and feel. Their lips met with a fervor that spoke volumes, as if this kiss was a declaration, a confirmation of everything they had just shared. The world seemed to disappear around them once again, leaving only the passionate embrace and the certainty of their newfound commitment.

As they finally parted, Benny’s face was lit up with a wide, genuine smile. The joy and relief in his eyes were unmistakable, and he couldn’t help but pull Y/N closer, his arms wrapping around her with a possessive, yet tender, affection.

With Y/N now officially his girlfriend, Benny felt as though he was floating on a cloud of elation. The weight of uncertainty and longing had lifted, replaced by a profound sense of contentment and excitement about the future. The world seemed to shine a little brighter, the colors more vivid, as if everything was aligning perfectly in his favor.

Benny’s mind raced with dreams and possibilities. For the first time, he could envision a future beyond the constraints of his solitary existence. The thought of having Y/N by his side, of building a life together, filled him with a sense of hope and purpose he hadn’t felt before. He could imagine waking up next to her, sharing quiet mornings and adventures, and eventually, maybe even starting a family. The idea of creating something lasting and meaningful, of having a family to call his own, seemed within reach.

As he looked at Y/N, he felt a surge of gratitude and excitement. She was his anchor, his "old lady," and with her, he saw endless possibilities. The future no longer felt like a series of uncertain steps; it felt like a journey they would embark on together, hand in hand.

Benny's thoughts drifted to the simple joys he wanted to share with her—the laughter, the shared dreams, the comforting routine of everyday life. The thought of building a home and a family with Y/N brought a warmth to his heart that he hadn’t known was possible. In his mind, he pictured a future filled with love and stability, a stark contrast to the tumultuous past he had known.

With Y/N now firmly in his life, Benny’s world was brimming with potential. He was eager to embrace this new chapter, to cherish every moment with her, and to make the dreams he once thought unattainable a reality.

[queerponcho]

Transfixed | part 3

previous part | part 4

collage made by me with pictures from pinterest

moonknight!system x female!reader

a/n: AHHH- Thank you all so much for reblogging, liking and commenting on my past chapters!!! I just reached 50 reblogs and it honestly means the world that people are embracing a newbie like me (✿◠‿◠)

Warnings: no use of Y/N, fluff, NOT beta read, gushing about the moonboys, flustered awkward dorks, plot-twists, Jake being a menace, (eventual smut, the chapters will be marked individually), inaccurate depictions of DID, egyptian mythology and religion (although I did extensive research I took liberty in changing some things to adhere to my plot...), if I missed anything or made any spelling mistakes pls don't hesitate to tell me!

Summary: Steven and Marc have a little...carfuffle when Jake finally lets them front again, after days of taking over. The date plans are set and both parties eager to meet soon but are we surprised when things don't go as planned..?

2,200 words

Steven at home

‘I can’t believe this- how does this even happen Steven?’

‘Mate, I don't know! You were there weren’t you? You know how it happened…’

‘So you’re tellin’ me that any pretty girl can just sit there and you will literally tell them all about our personal business???'

‘How else was I supposed to find out about Jake huh?? Say that he’s my identical twin brother and then have to explain myself-'

‘Steven you would never have had to explain anything! Because this was supposed to be ONE conversation over a non-committal coffee- not a damn first date.’ Marc replies sternly. He looks at Steven in the glass of the fishtank and notices him looking deflated and guilty. Great- now he feels guilty for making Steven feel guilty. ‘I-I am sorry man, I shouldn't've gotten this mad, you know how I am about…personal stuff.’ Marc says sincerely. He really has been trying to be better at communicating, it’s been a feat to get here but he would do anything to make Steven's life easier. ‘It’s alright Marc..you’re right I should call off the date’ Steven says while looking at his hands, remembering your touch on his shoulder. The way you made him trust you so easily, even though he barely knew you. How desperately he wanted to get to know you an- ‘Steven, you know we share a brain right?’ Marc says trying to stop Steven from swooning any further. ‘Look- clearly you like her and she seems to like you as well, so who says this won’t turn out well?’ ‘well- you know: “we share a brain”’ Steven says, mocking Marc's previous comment. ‘Okay okay I get it-  I messed up. I’m sorry. There, will you let me help you now?’ Marc looks at Steven expectantly.

Days passed since they had returned home after you left them in the cafe. Steven was pretty sure Jake had taken over after leaving the coffee-shop but he was finally fronting again after a few days. Steven squints his eyes at Marc but relents ‘alright fine, I don’t know what to text her…I think she might be waiting for me to initiate conversation…’ ‘You realise we wouldn't have this issue if I had fronted and you wouldn't have had the chance to fall in love like a desperate teen-boy’ ‘I thought you said you lay off with the mean comments! And i am NOT in love-’

‘yeahyeah, you’ve never had a girlfriend have you? You must be reeaaally nervous…’ he adds in a singsong voice. Marc won’t let up, he’s being dragged into this mess so he might as well have a bit of fun. ‘Okay now I know you’re just takin’ the piss- are you gonna help me or not?’ Steven says fully aware of his embarrassing situation. ‘Alright, you text and I tell ya how to start, alright?’

‘Oh bollocks- uum okok I-I can do this..’ Steven is fronting now sitting on the office-chair and stares at his phone screen, starting with a simple introduction.

steven is typing...

‘Hiya- it’s me Steven!’

He had written, deleted and rewritten the message about six times before finally sending it.

You answered very quickly, you’d been waiting for him to text since you got home a few days ago. Processing everything that happened between you and steven- and well, Jake.

‘hi:) glad to hear from you. I wanted to apologise for leaving so abruptly, but it was all a bit much to process and i was running super late for work haha…i hope you understand’

‘Of course luv. If you’ve got any questions you can always ask, I hope you know that.’

‘i do’

‘i was actually hoping to ask you some questions on that date you promised me;)’

You seemed a bit more forward over text and Steven did not mind it one bit, since it was just the push he needed.

‘Right! I thought we could meet friday? There's this great vegan restaurant, I'd love to take you there?’

‘sounds great! could you pass me the address of the place?’

‘No need luv- I’ll pick you up.’

‘oh!’

‘that works too’

You hadn’t realised the age gap until this moment. They were probably around 10 years older than you with you being in your mid-twenties. You did notice the wrinkles and silver strands when you first saw Jake but hadn’t really thought about the fact that he was about a decade older than you. Just now as he offered to pick you up did you realise the generational difference. You didn’t have an issue with it, you’ve always liked your partners to be a bit older so this definitely wasn’t a turnoff. If anything it only amplified your attraction.

‘I’d love your address’

‘Whenever you get the chance to send it:)’

‘right! sending it now…’

You send him your address. 

‘Thanks luv. Alright, I’ll see you Friday at 7pm then?’

‘yes! see you tomorrow steven<3’

He sat back, setting his phone on the sink. ‘Alright there's your date’

‘Thanks for taking over, Marc- couldn’t have done it alone’

‘Relax Steven- this was just texting. But you realise I can’t just take over during the date, right?’

‘Of course I know that…doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stand by just in case…’ 

‘So- wait, what are we gonna do with Jake's notebook?’

‘I uuhm couldn't find anything besides drawings and sketches of her…I mean at least we had those, otherwise we would’ve never found out about him loaning that book.’

‘By the way…we know Jake likes her as well, by getting to know her better, we have a chance of actually luring Jake out-’

‘That might be true but that's not our goal! I- I actually like her…she might become my first proper girlfriend, I don't wanna mess this up.’ Steven is adamant on getting to know you, very hopeful of the connection he feels towards you. An almost magnetic pull he felt between you, one he has never felt with anyone before.

Marc chuckles at the reminder but reassures Steven, ‘And we won't, I promise, you will do fine Steven’

Friday

It’s 4 am. You’ve been trying to sleep for the past four hours but the thought of getting to see Steven and possibly Jake later today was not letting you relax. If anything it was causing a very persistent tension…in places you really dont wanna delve into. In fact, you’re trying really hard not to think about that tension, which might be the exact reason as to why you can’t seem to find your way to a peaceful slumber. You try to distract yourself by thinking of how this all even started. The way Jake intrigued you since the beginning and had you speechless every time he appeared. And you think about steven- steven who's the polar opposite to jake and is this shy sweetheart that can’t seem to even look you in the eyes but somehow managed to bluntly ask you out on a date. You keep thinking about them and their differences and analyse them, not noticing your eyes slowly shutting closed and your thoughts slowly forming into vivid dreams based on your memories with the boys…you sit up in your bed abruptly remembering your texts with steven. Realising you had shared your private address with a fucking stranger…you hold your head in your hands and push your palms into your eye-sockets trying to calm down. You don't actually know shit about these men…you really should’ve told your friends about them cuz literally no one knows about these encounters. But truly it was all so bizarre and absurd that you really didn’t want your friends to spoil it for you by using anything close to logic or realism. To maybe argue that they could have anything untoward in mind with you. 

You lay back down and finally feel a wave of exhaustion hit you. You want to believe that they actually maybe even like you…of course there is a possibility that Steven only asked you out to find out more about Jake. oh and marc, was it? You wonder what he might be like and if he's anything like his alters. You turn from your clock having hit 5am and finally force yourself into sleep.

You wake up to your alarm blaring and prepare yourself for work. You start the day groggy and tired due to only sleeping four hours. But just the thought of your date tonight has you motivated enough to hurry up and catch the next bus.

Moonboys POV

Marc woke up around noonish since Steven took forever to finally fall asleep. Lately he’d been better but last night he was as jittery as a six year old the night before christmas. Currently standing in the kitchen brewing himself a cup of black coffee and prepping his mug with two brown sugars. ‘So loverboy, what are you planning for tonight?’ He says while wearing an amused smirk on his face.

‘Okay well first off, cool it with the nicknames yeah? And secondly you literally texted it for me yesterday. We are goin’ to my favourite restaurant.’ Steven replies proudly while also ashamed for not even having the balls to text you himself. ‘About that…I don’t think that place is open right now- in fact I think all the restaurants are closed today, no?’ Marc remarks and pours himself the long awaited bitter brew. ‘Wha-Whatareyousayin mate??’

‘Well’ He clears his throat ‘when I woke up I saw today's date and remembered that today is that weird holiday, the only thing open are convenience stores and the 24-hour Tesco’ he says, his voice laced in an amused tone and takes a slow sip of his sweetened coffee. ‘Bollocks- what am I gonna do?...I could cook?’ ‘Steven’ ‘No, I-i can't even make a- a salad! How the hell am i supposed to cook for her if I can't cook marc?!’ he says panicked ‘Steven’ marc sternly interrupts, carefully putting his half empty mug on the counter 

‘I can help you. I may not be amazing at it but I can remember a few things from- from what our dad taught us.’ Marc and Steven rarely talked about their past but recently they were kinda forced to deal with it. Just the fact that they, let alone Marc, can mention anything from that time so casually is kind of a huge step for them. 

Marc and Steven spend the rest of the day planning, buying and preparing the food for the date. The time comes when Steven has to take over the body to get ready to pick you up. He finds a shirt in the back of his closet- same oversized cut as his others but a bit less casual and more sleek looking than the usual shirts he wears. His hair is as unruly and fluffy as usual despite Marc insisting on sleeking it back. He convinces him to use some curling cream he had found in the back of the bathroom drawer.

Steven applies it sceptically, coming to the conclusion that it does look pretty good. He makes his way to your address making sure to ring on the right door. Basically buzzing from anxiety, Marc is doing everything to keep him calm and rehearse with him what he was gonna do and say when you ringed him in and opened your door, knowing full well, that all the preparation would fly out the window when he actually met you…Jake is silently watching this all transpire and cant help but be amused at all this, not admitting that he was actually a bit nervous himself.

You came back from work tired BUT extremely excited to get ready. You had to stay a bit longer than anticipated and thus only had about one hour to get ready. Hopping in the shower as quickly as possible you try to calm down under the warm streams of water hitting your body, melting all the tension out of your back, shoulders and sore legs. Work had been exhausting and this shower was proving to get difficult to leave. But the alarm you had set to remind yourself of the time, successfully cut your relaxation short. You quickly exited your shower wrapping your body in a fluffy white towel. Wiping the steamy mirror to see your reflection more clearly, you start getting ready. Adding whatever products you use to your hair and applying sweet smelling lotion to your body, basically doing any- and everything to make you feel as confident and ready as possible for your date, who was supposed to arrive iiiin…twenty minutes?!

You hurried your makeup routine and rushed to your room quickly picking out an outfit you felt sexy in but also had a grounding and comfy vibe. You threw on a beige knitted sweater, which had an oversized fit with a mini-jean skirt. Paired with sheer brown tights, thigh-high beige cashmere socks and brown leather knee-high, high-heeled boots. Finishing off the look with your favourite jewellery and accessories, you look over at the clock. It's 6.50pm and you are just adding the last finishing touches to your look and making sure you've moved all the important things from your ‘work-bag’ to your ‘going out purse’ when the door rings. ‘He's here’ you mutter to yourself, running to the door making sure it's him and pushing the button to the intercom. ‘Yes, hello?’

a/n: hope yall liked this chapterrr- in the next chapter you'll be able to read all about the date and i am SO excited for yall to read about it *squeals* don't mean to toot my own horn but GURL it's so good i already wanna post it ♪(´▽｀)

The lovely people in my taglist: @lilladyblink14 @lemongirl5910

please notify me if you want to be added/ removed from the Taglist<3

[your-mums-nuts]

The thing I love about Protective!Ted in relation to tedbecca is not the whole ‘caveman angry because someone upset his woman’ but rather, how his anger and dislike for Rupert, and the way that he handles it, signals to (a very mistrustful) Rebecca that his charm and his kindness is not some farce he shows absolutely everybody.

Over time, we learn that Rupert started out charming. He told Rebacca all he wanted was to talk to her, he made her feel special. So when Ted comes in every morning to bring her a batch of homemade biscuits and just, hang out with her. She’s understandably hesitant, because that’s how Rupert got her, and she doesn’t yet understand the difference between charming and nice.

But when Ted faces off against Rupert (eg the gala, playing darts) his responses to her being insulted, belittled and spoken down to, all reveal a level of uncontrollable, genuine care.

Rupert would’ve easily brushed off any insults towards his wife with some charm and good natured teasing, he probably even joined in, the fucking guy. Meanwhile, Ted’s reactions to Rupert insulting Rebecca are always abrupt and defensive. He loses his cool, he says something he’s not supposed to, he reveals something he’s not supposed to, he becomes a guy that even we, the audience, are not used to. But his protectiveness never comes from a place of typical, masculine possessiveness or jealousy. (Okay, maybe a little jealousy. A girl can dream)

In the charity-gala episode, Rupert causes immediate stress for Rebecca. So Ted, not even knowing the full extent of it yet, visibly dislikes this guy from the moment they meet. Even when Rupert’s charming the pants off the crowd and raising charity ‘for the children’ Ted continues to react uncomfortably in his presence, no matter how friendly he is.

Then, when he does get the extent of it, (Rebecca crying, Rupert being the one to cancel the musical guest) he lets that dislike out, openly taking Rebecca’s side. Which isn’t surprising, but is still very sweet.

In the dart episode, Rupert reveals he’s gonna be in the owners box everyday. Ted doesn’t like this at all, but he doesn’t go off his own reaction, he observes Rebecca’s reaction to gauge her feelings on the matter. Rebecca is clearly unsettled and uncomfortable, and you can kind of see Ted mentally go, ‘yeah no, she’s not cool with that, that’s not happening.’

And then even before they play darts, first and foremost, Ted checks if Rebecca would like to leave. Now, we know his character hates conflict, especially after his train-wreck marriage, so we know that he would like to leave. But when Rebecca decides to remain in a bar with her horrible ex-husband, his child-bride and a room full of people who adore him, which is a little masochist-y even for me, he doesn’t even hesitate.

Her reasoning is very English. ‘Make yourself suffer out of obligation to polite society’ type shit. But instead of making her feel silly or ridiculous or forcing her to leave, Ted goes out of his way to ease Rebecca’s suffering and make Rupert leave her alone, even if it causes him discomfort.

Now, I know that Ted is a very caring character and a lot of this can be chalked up to him being a good friend. But with the way they present Ted and Rebeca’s relationship (he calls her boss, she calls the shots, she’s more authoritative) To see him take over for her, without thought, whenever Rupert upsets her, reveals more intimacy and depth to their relationship than we previously understood. And to have her be grateful, and in some instances, downright delighted by this display of care and protectiveness, reveals something else entirely.

Anyway I read twelve protective!Ted tedbecca fics last night and this is what’s left of my brain.

[hyuuukais]

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ SUNSHINE AND STRAWBERRIES

pairing ☆ lee felix x fem reader

synopsis ☆ Y/N is a new streamer. after months of planning, and her best friend & now fellow streamer han jisung convincing her, she makes a twitch and youtube account. thanks to jisung giving her a shoutout to his own huge following, she gains some unexpected overnight fame. but what was more unexpected was waking up to see her long-time favourite comfort streamer _sunshine.bbokari_ following her.

warnings ☆ food mention, mention of stalking in an unserious way

[TAGLIST -> CLOSED]

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

☆ mostly written chapter, 3 screenshots ☆

CHAPTER TEN ☆ THE STREAM

The stream starts off smoothly, fans of both of you trickling in during the waiting screen. You had never played Overcooked 2, but watched the gameplay of it enough times to know what to expect. At least, from the game. You had no idea what to expect when it came to playing with Felix. Jisung had tried to help resssure you, saying to think of Felix as 'just some guy'.

Kinda hard when you've been looking up to him for years.

He started his YouTube channel young, around 14. It didn't start as asmr, but with gaming. You quickly found yourself addicted to his videos, loving the way he described things. It helped that he was someone your age, someone relatable. After starting to stream, you'd stay up most nights to watch with Kai or Jisung, sometimes falling asleep to his voice.

And now here you were, five minutes away from the most anticipated moment of your life.

Another concern of yours was what the chat would be like, especially considering the initial hesitation and hate you had recieved just from being friends with Jisung. It hurt to see, but you felt secure in your friendship. No amount of hate could make you doubt it.

"Y/N?"

The interruption made you look up, seeing Felix's icon light up as he spoke.

"Y/N? You there?"

"Yes!" You cringed at your loud response. "Sorry, yes, I'm here."

He laughed. "Before we start, I just want to say I'm happy you agreed to this! I know we barely know each other still."

That was true. You had no idea what made Felix so excited to get to know you. Had Jisung said more to him than you thought? Actually, you don't even know how close those two were if you thought about it.

"Well, I've only had the biggest crush on you since I was like 14," You blurted, silently cursing yourself. Why didn't you think before speaking?! "Oh my god, that's probably the weirdest thing I could have said to you! I'm so sorry!"

"Ehh, I'm used to weird people," His smile was obvious in his voice. "You'll fit right in with my other friends."

Before you could ask what he meant, it was time to begin.

-

About an hour and a half in, you decided it be best to take a break. Both of you did what you needed, coming back with a snack. You advised the chat to grab something before reading questions or comments.

"Y/N, you can start," Felix stood suddenly, holding up his phone. "Chan is calling, I gotta take this!"

"Oh, okay!" You watched as he disappeared, your nerves coming back to you.

Most questions were for Felix, which you obviously couldn't answer, but there were a lot of comments about you both.

"'Your dynamic is so fun to watch, I'm glad I stopped in'," You smiled. "Thank you so much, aw. There's a few people who've said similar things, so thank you too."

You kept reading positive comments, laughing and feeling more at ease after expecting the worst.

"'Y/N you must be feeling pretty good with'... oh," The smile on your face faded and you looked down.

The comment read, 'Y/N you must be feeling pretty good with your success, too bad it's only because of your... 'friends'. You're so boring on your own.'

There were a few people agreeing, saying you were too quiet, that people only liked you for who you associated with, that you'd never be so popular on your own.

It hurt.

When Felix came back, you tried not to show how you were feeling, easily falling back into laughing along with him.

"Okay, last question!" He announced. "Let's see here... 'hey Lix, did you know about Y/N's old fan account?'"

You nearly choked on your drink.

"Actually yes, I did."

You blush furiously, looking wide eyed at his face in the corner, mouth hanging open. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes in embarrassment. Before you could say anything. Felix let out a big sigh and a chuckle, shaking his head.

"Fun fact about me... I love secretly interacting with my fans. I may or may not have a secret account..." It was his turn to blush with the confession. "I have a few favourite accounts and," His voice went quieter, "Y/N this is actually so embarrassing to admit to your face, but yours was one of them. When you suddenly stopped posting, I... I was honestly kinda heartbroken. Of course I didn't know it was you at the time!"

For a few moments, you were quiet. What he said came crashing down on you, and suddenly you couldn't stop laughing- no- cackling. He liked your fan account? No, you were one of his favourites?

The idea was so absurd.

"Stop laughing!" He scolded, but his face betrayed him with a wide grin. "It's not- it's not funny! I wanted the world to swallow me up when I found out you were friends with Han considering I'd been lowkey stalking you on the internet for like 3 years!"

Tears streamed freely down your cheeks, and the chat was blowing up. You could barely breathe, coughing to catch your breath.

"Is that why you were so eager to meet?" You asked once you finally calmed down.

"I wanted to put a face to the name," He shrugged, his own laughter calming down. "I mean, I already knew what you looked like I guess. But still! I never expected the chance to meet you."

The chat kept blowing up, but it was finally time to continue what you were here for -- gaming. After a few more frustrating hours, yelling at each other and attempting to be strategic on who does what (but failing horribly), the stream ended.

At the end of the night, your heart felt full. During your years of being a fan account, you worried Felix wasn't who he showed, but tonight and all the texts up until now proved he was even better.

notes ☆ FIRST WRITTEN PART !! also i'm so so excited to get more into the rising stars plotline bc as much as this is a fun fluffy felix x y/n fic, it's also just as much abt y/n on her own! the actually relationship between y/n and felix may be a bit of a slow burn friends to lovers kinda thing bc personally i eat that shit up. but dw!! there are going to be so many cute parts with the two of them. also are we glad the stream was good ?!?! y/n already needed a break LMFAO

taglist ☆ @marcillfll @toplinelix @neri-ner @tfshouldidohere @imasimplol @samvagejkflxhrt @yennifersgeralt @aestheticsluut @cherryuqii @tenebrisirae @roseidol @veryjeongintxtkid @amara-mars @nobuttpics @bmnyy @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @ellelabelle @gini143 @mrsseals16 @veedoesntknaur

pink means it won't let me tag you

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his girl - ch. 7 **

You might want to put aside some time for this, I somehow managed to write 10k...and the second half is like all smut, almost.

Took me a while to get this out, it was kinda meant to be a filler chapter but then I wanted to add more so I ended up moving things around in the story line so now we've got this one. Next chapter will see their relationship move forward with leaps and bounds and then we get into the really juicy bits!

Please enjoy and if you do, please reblog so that more people see the fic, I'll love you always if you do

If wanna catch up from the beginning, here is chapter 1 of The Pilot and his girl

Chapter 8

Tag list: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer

Sometimes you think back on other guys you’ve dated. The guy who wanted to be able to call you up whenever he wanted sex and always got mad when you weren’t around to supply, the college guy who never wanted to touch you in public, the older guy who ‘forgot’ to mention his wife and two year old son, the guy who cheated on you and then messaged all your friends and told them he’d dumped you because you’d cheated on him with his boss. And that didn’t even cover all the ‘normal’ guys who just wanted to play the game, date and have sex but never commit or say what they actually felt or introduce you to their friends or family. 

And then there was Frankie Morales. Sweet, loving, loyal Frankie who never seemed to hide what he was thinking or wanted to play games. Who never made it difficult or made you guess what he felt or what his intentions were. He was just always happy to be with you, to see you and to let the world around you know that he belonged to you and no one else. Who would kiss you in public just because he felt like it, took your hand as soon as you were near, and never hesitated to include you in his plans. Being with Frankie was easy and you finally started to understand that dating someone shouldn’t be non-stop drama, it should be easy and that’s how you knew it was right. 

And Frankie slipped into your life as easily as he let you slip into his. After your first few dates he made it clear that he would happily spend as much time as he could with you, the only other priority in his life being his daughter and you happily took a back seat to her. Frankie was always a bit low when he came back from seeing her, or she’d spent a weekend with him, his guilty conscience about not seeing her enough always on his mind. But he was also full of stories about her, his eyes beaming, a wide, proud, smile on his face, as he told you about what they’d done, the things she’d said and how much she’d grown or what new skills she’d learnt. She was the centre of his universe and you didn’t mind, she grounded him and made him happy and a better man. Both for her and for you. 

When Frankie wasn’t working or went to see Lucía, your weekends were spent mostly in each other’s company. He’d pick you up on Friday evening and take you out ‘properly’, as he said. He’d show up in his truck, freshly showered after work and in a clean shirt. If he’d ditched the cap you knew he’d made plans for a more upscale restaurant. If the cap was firmly pressed down over his, still very, unruly curls, you knew he was taking you on one of his special Frankie dates. 

The first time you’d expected maybe a cool food truck or local BBQ place when he said he’d made ‘special plans’, your expectations from previous guys were not exactly high. But instead he’d taken you to a secluded spot up on a hill, parking the truck and walking with you through the forest on a small path until the trees fell away to a cliff overlooking a lake. Stuck into the ground was a small sign that read “Reserved - Morales” that made you giggle at the thought that he’d hiked up here earlier, just to place the sign. Frankie had then produced a thick blanket from his backpack, a lantern, a camping stove, various containers and bottles and proceeded to cook you dinner while the sun set behind the forest on the other side of the lake. When dinner was done with, and you’d expressed your deep astonishment at how romantic he was, Frankie blushing to the tips of his ears, he’d wrapped you both in the blanket and leaned back against a rock with you tucked in against his chest. 

“You’re setting the bar very high for all the other guys, Francisco Morales,” you hum as you feel the cool tip of his nose brush against your cheek. 

“What other guys, hermosa?” he mutters, lightly kissing the tip of your ear. 

“All the other guys in general,” you lean into his warm lips skating along your neck, “once word gets out this is how Frankie Morales treats women, who’s gonna want a regular guy?” 

Frankie chuckles quietly, his rich, warm voice close to your ear. “I don’t treat women like this, only you, solo tu hermosa mujer.

“See, there you go again, setting the bar impossibly high,” you smile and push your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck, scratching his scalp and drawing a soft moan from him. 

When the night became too cold even for the blanket and the Frankie shaped furnace at your back, he’d held your hand as you walked back, his powerful torch shining the way through the pitch black forest. At any other time the thought of walking through a dark forest would’ve made you slightly panicky, but with Frankie’s warm hand in yours and his broad shoulders in front of you as he easily navigated the path back to his truck, you felt as safe as you did at home in your bed. 

It was easy, being with Frankie was the easiest thing of them all. 

…

You woke up with a groan on Sunday morning, six weeks or so into dating Frankie. You’d been out the night before with friends and now you were paying the price; dry mouth, headache and that horrible shaky feeling as you moved your limbs. You were definitely never, ever drinking again. You were in Frankie’s bed but he was absent so with a groan you pushed the covers aside and sat up carefully. 

As you sat on the side of the bed, contemplating death, you heard Frankie’s bare feet coming down the hall, pushing open the door. 

“Morning, my little ‘I’m not drunk’ girl,” he smiled, far too cheerful and you groaned again and fell back into bed, pulling the covers with you as Frankie chuckled. 

“Just stay in bed, hermosa, I’ll get you some water and coffee, and breakfast whenever you feel up for it.” 

“Thank you,” you mumble from under the covers. 

“Anything for you, I love you,” he says as he bends and kisses the covers over your head. 

Oh yeah, you said that last night too.

…

Towards the end of your night you’d met up with Frankie and his friends at a bar. Your friends  were heading home, and you probably should’ve done the same, but you wanted to see Frankie and you’d promised to call him before you went home. He was the designated driver for the evening, as most evenings. Frankie didn’t like tempting fate with too much alcohol after he got clean from the coke. 

“Mi hermosa, hi,” came his warm, smiling voice over the phone when he picked up, and you immediately heard someone shush loudly in the background. 

“Sssshhhhh, everyone, ssssshhhhh, it’s the girlfriend, sssshhhhh!” The drunken voice of Benny was easily recognisable in the background.  

“Hi Frankie boy,” you cooed, definitely a little bit more than tipsy, “and hi Benny,” you giggled. 

“Tell her to come here,” Benny’s voice was suddenly very close, “I need her as my wing woman!”

“Benny, for fuck’s sake!” It sounded like Frankie had to pull his phone away from his friend as he shuffled away from the table they were all at, chairs scraping across a floor. 

“Sounds like Benny’s a little bit drunk, baby,” you give him a tipsy giggled again. 

“Sounds like you’re a little bit drunk too, cariño,” Frankie chuckles. “Do you wanna come over, we’re at the usual place.” 

“Only if you want me to, I don’t want to crash boy’s night.”

“You should definitely come over, I wanna see you this drunk,” he laughs as you protest and claim to be only slightly tipsy. “Get yourself in an Uber, and send me the details so I know when you get here.” 

“Ok, Frankie boy, always so responsible,” you pout and give him a salute before you remember he can’t actually see you through the phone. 

“Just be safe, hermosa,” he smiles before he hangs up. 

He’s waiting outside for you when the Uber pulls up, opening the door of the car and giving you a hand as you step out. 

“Hi sweetie,” you purr, wrapping your arms around his neck, stumbling slightly on the curb, as Frankie catches you around the middle. 

“Hey there, not drunk girl,” he smiles down at you and accepts your wet kiss to his lips with a chuckle. “How’s your night been?” 

“S’been good, everybody came, even Hannah who always cancels because her kids are sick.” you say as Frankie guides you towards the door of the bar. “And we got free drinks from a bunch of guys who were trying to hit on us, but their loss, because we’re all taken,” You pull him close and place a kiss on his cheek, “You’re my Frankie boy.”  

“Did you accept their drinks?” Frankie’s got a worried look in his eyes that you don’t notice as you shrug your jacket off as the heat of the room hits you.” 

“Yeah, sure! It was free drinks. It’s not like they were gonna get anything in return.” 

“Cariño, you shouldn’t accept drinks from random men in bars, what if they slip something in it? You’ve got to be careful.” He’s got his arm around your waist, walking you towards the table where the guys are. 

“Wait,” you stop halfway across the bar, poking his chest with your finger, “you were gonna buy me a drink when we met, are you saying I shouldn’t have accepted that?” 

“Uh…I mean…” Frankie flounders, “technically, I guess, no?” 

“You’re so cute when you blush, sweet Francisco,” you gush, wrapping your arms around his neck again and standing on your toes to kiss the tip of his nose, “I know I shouldn’t accept drinks from random guys, baby. But free drinks!” you grin again and Frankie can’t help but chuckle when he sees your delighted grin. 

“My tipsy girl,” he smiles, “we should get some food in you.” 

“Nachos!” you exclaim as Frankie puts his hand on your back and ushers you towards the table and the guys again. 

Pope pulls you in for a bear hug as Frankie pulls out a chair for you, and Will gives you a grin from across the table. 

“Hey, there she is!” Benny whoops as you sink down on the chair, “My wing woman!” He attempts to high five you but you’re too focused on telling Frankie you want the biggest serving of nachos they’ve got, and Benny’s hand slaps down on your shoulder instead, making you jump. 

“Jeez, Benny, calm down,” Frankie scowls and knocks his hand off your shoulder. “I’m getting nachos for the drunk girl, anyone else want anything?” he asks. 

“Nachos and drinks, if you’re offering,” Pope says and Frankie nods, heading back towards the bar. 

“I’m really not drunk, just a little bit tipsy,” you tell the three guys as Frankie walks off. “He’s being very overprotective.” 

“I heard that,” Frankie calls from over his shoulder, making you giggle loudly and snort.

“Well, you’re in good company here,” Will nods at Benny who’s slightly red eyed appearance betrays that he’s by far the furthest one gone at the table. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Benny taps your arm excitedly, looking at a table towards the back of the bar, not paying attention to his brother, “Can you help me get that blonde over there? Like, walk over to her or something and tell her I’m great in bed and she should totally let me buy her a drink.” 

“What Benny?! No!” you protest, “I’m not lying to some poor woman, I don’t even know if you’re good in bed.” You give Benny a slightly unfocused once over, “Are you any good in bed?”  

“I’m totally good in bed!” he insists, “I’d prove it but you know…Fish would literally kill me dead.” 

“Ewww!” you exclaim, sending Pope and Will into a laughing fit as Benny blinks, trying to figure out if he should be insulted or not. “Sorry! That came out wrong!” you grab on to his arm, “I mean, you’re cute and all but just not my type, I like - “

“We know what you like,” Pope interrupts with a grin, “you like ‘em dark haired, brown eyed and tanned.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you as you snort out a laugh. 

“I mean, I can’t deny that, but I like my men taller and with less body hair, Santi,” you smirk and Pope tries to look insulted. 

“Ouch, going after my height, evil woman,” he huffs, but he’s still laughing. 

“You got the right one then,” Will chuckles, “Frankie’s got less body hair than a hairless cat.” 

“Why the fuck are you talking about my body hair?” Frankie says, coming back to the table, sending Benny and you into a laughing fit and Will just waving his hand. 

“Forget it man, not important.” 

Frankie raises his eyebrows and gives his head a slight shake as he sets down the nachos and drinks for the table, although you’re also getting a large glass of water. 

“Are you riling them up, cariño?” he asks, smiling down at you as you try to pull him down for a kiss that he willingly gives, your lips tasting of tequila and wine, oh, you’ll be hungover for sure in the morning. 

“I’m innocent,” you smirk, looking anything but and Frankie chuckles. 

“Move, baby, sit on my lap, there’s no extra chair.” 

You happily oblige, sitting sideways across Frankie’s lap, his warm arm around your waist, holding you tight. 

Nachos and beers are soon gone and Pope gets everyone a new round, getting Frankie a Coke that he tries to make you drink instead of the beer Pope got you, but not having much success. Benny’s trying his luck with the blonde across the room and Will and Pope decide to shoot some pool while you and Frankie watch from the table. Despite there being several empty chairs now you stay on Frankie’s lap, his legs are slowly falling asleep but he won’t make you move, he’s got you tight against his body, and your arm is draped across his shoulder, absentmindedly dragging your fingers through the curls around his neck at the edge of his cap. He hums contentedly as your nails scratch his scalp and you feel the rumble in his chest. Looking down you see his eyes slip closed, he always has trouble keeping them open when you play with his hair. He’s not asleep but his muscles relax and his head slumps forward, leaning against you. 

Gently you pull his cap off so that you can run your fingers through more of his hair, Frankie mutters his consent and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, warm through the thin fabric of your top. His soft curls slip under your fingers as you run them through his hair, the buzz of alcohol in your system making you sleepy, Frankie’s warm body making you feel safe and content. You bend down and press a kiss to the top of his head and with your lips still close to his hair it slips out.

“I love you.” 

Frankie’s eyes snap open and he pulls back from your chest, looking up at you, searching your eyes to see if you mean it or if you’re just too drunk. 

“What did you say, hermosa?” he asks softly as you look down at him, a small, uncertain smile on your lips. 

“I’m sorry…” you waver, “it just slipped out, it’s too soon and I’m drunk and it’s -” 

“I love you, I love you too,” Frankie interrupts, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest as he pulls your lips to his, “don’t be sorry,” he mumbles against your mouth, “I would’ve said it weeks ago if I had the guts.” 

His hand slips behind your neck, holding you to his lips, as you wrap your arms around him. His heart is racing, he can feel your smile against his mouth as you press yourself against him and it feels like millions of tiny bubbles are gathering inside his chest, pushing up through his throat and making him grin like a fool against your soft lips. The kiss turns sloppy as you both start to giggle, foreheads leaning together, you look into his warm, brown eyes that are crinkling at the corners. 

“I love you, Frankie,” you say, still smiling so wide you feel like your face is splitting but happy tears are threatening to spill out. The way Frankie is looking at you makes you feel like he just wrapped you up in a blanket, tucked you against his chest and enveloped you with his love, making you his axis point. 

“I love you too, hermosa,” he replies, “I love you so fucking much, I wanted to tell you when you took my hand after I told you about all the shit in my life, but I was scared it was too much. And when you still wanted to be with me and the first morning you woke up with me, you told me how amazing you think I am…” Frankie reaches up and strokes his thumb over your cheek, catching a tear that’s escaped from your eyes, “I almost said it then too, I really wanted to tell you then, but I chickened out..” 

“You should’ve said it all those times, Frankie,” you say, putting your hand over his, still on your cheek, “I would’ve said it back, but I thought it was too soon. I thought you’d run a mile if you knew how fast I fell for you.” 

“Not in a million years, hermosa, never.” He pulls you in, catching your lips in another kiss, slow and searing, making you part your lips so that he can taste you, despite all the alcohol. You feel his tongue, soft against your own, as he moves to kiss you deeper, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, holding you firm against him as you hold onto his shoulders, and push your fingers into his hair. You’re in your own bubble, only you and him, and the noises of the bar fades away as you hum against his mouth, the taste of him, his tongue, overtakes your hazy mind. 

…

You stay under the covers, you can hear Frankie moving around his kitchen, making coffee. You remember him taking the guys and you home last night. The truck had been full, the guys in the back and you tucked into Frankie’s side in the front, falling asleep against his shoulder as he dropped the others off first. You vaguely remember Frankie gently scooting you out of his truck and picking you up. You’d woken up when he had to put you down to dig out his keys, his soft voice telling you to stay awake as you leaned on him. Finally he’d gotten you both into his place and he’d tucked you in under the covers of his bed, the last thing you seem to remember is him taking your shoes off. 

Now he pads back into the bedroom with a bottle of water and a large coffee. 

“Here, cariño, drink the water first.” 

“Thanks, Frankie, you’re more than I deserve, I was way too drunk last night,” you moan, gratefully taking the water bottle from him. 

“You’re a very cute drunk,” he smiles and sits down on the edge of the bed as you pull yourself up, leaning against the headboard and taking a long drink of water. 

“And I love you too,” you say, putting down the water and taking his hand, “I remember that part at least.” 

Frankie chuckles and pulls your hand to his lips, kissing your palm, “I was a bit worried you’d said all those sweet things and then forget about it. 

“Never, Frankie,” you smile, “how could I? I just wish I hadn’t blurted it out when I was drunk...” 

“It was very sweet, hermosa, alcohol clearly makes you honest. I need to remember that,” he pulls you towards him with a big grin and you lean against his chest, breathing into his clean t-shirt, fresh cotton and the smell of just him underneath it. If you weren’t so hungover you’d pull him back into the bed with you, he feels good next to you, warm and solid, his little belly soft to the touch as you absentmindedly run your hand over it and listen to his heartbeat under your ear. Frankie’s hand is rubbing up and down your back and you can feel his breath against the top of your head where he's leaning his chin. 

“I wanted to ask you something,” he says after a little while of enjoying just sitting together in silence. The slight hesitation in his voice makes you lift your head and look up at him. He’s got that worried look in his eyes, and it makes you mirror his look, raising your eyebrows in concern as he goes on; 

“Lucía is supposed to come here next weekend, she’s staying Saturday and Sunday. And you can say no if you think it’s too much but, but I really want you to meet her, if you want?” 

“You know I’d love to meet her, Frankie” you say, sitting up so that you can look properly at him. His expressive eyebrows immediately shoot up in a relieved look. 

“I know, I just wanted to make sure,” he says, “I’ve…I’ve never…let her meet a girlfriend before and I wanna make sure you’re fine with it too.” 

“I’m absolutely fine with it, sweetie,” you rub his arm, wanting to reassure him that it really was fine. “If you want, we can start easy though, maybe? Just tell her I’m a friend of yours or something and we keep the PDA to a minimum around her?” 

“Yeah, I was thinking that too,” he agrees. “I haven’t talked to her mom yet either, it’s not like I need her permission for it or anything, but you know, just so that she hears it from me and not Lucía afterwards.” 

“I won’t stay over at your place when she’s here,” you stretch your arms up, yawning big and Frankie pushes the coffee mug into your hands with a smile. “We’ll just hang out a bit,” you say, “I don’t wanna intrude on your father - daughter time, I know you feel like you don’t see enough of her as it is.” 

“You could never intrude, cariño,” Frankie protests, “hang out with us as much as you want. Although, four year olds can be a bit rowdy so you might need to work on your stamina,” he chuckles. 

“I know how to handle four year olds,” you grin, “I just buy them the loudest toy I can find and be their new best friend.”

“That’s just evil, just pure evil,” Frankie groans, “every parent's worst nightmare, you would never.” 

“I would never do that to you, Frankie,” you smile and accept his hand as he pulls you out of the bed. “But my brother’s kids, absolutely.” 

“Remind me to never piss you off, cariño,” Frankie chuckles as you make your way into his small kitchen where he’s got breakfast laid out. 

Right from the start Frankie had claimed he couldn’t cook and his mom’s brownies was the only thing he could bake. You’d quickly figured out that the ‘can’t cook’ line was more a show of Frankie’s insecurity rather than an actual thing. And he excelled at breakfast, making both blueberry pancakes, omelettes and smoothies so good you’d rather have his breakfast for every meal of the day than anything else. The first time you had his pancakes, made from scratch and not a box mix, you’d eaten four in one go and not even felt bad about it. Frankie’s smile when you kept asking for more was worth the bloated feeling you had for the rest of the day. He admitted he’d taught himself to make them because they were Lucía’s favourite food and the thought of Frankie looking up pancake recipes online to be able to serve his daughter her favourite food made you almost teary eyed. The more you got to know him, the more you saw of his big heart and soft side, the more it became difficult to equate the man you now knew, with the man who had been in Delta Force and displayed such skill at violence in the bar that horrible night. 

There was one thing that betrayed his background though, his nightmares. Frankie said he had them less these days but there were still several nights where you’d been woken up by him thrashing around in the bed, crying out incoherently. A few times you’d been woken up by Frankie throwing himself on top of you when his sleep hazy mind thought there was a threat in the room and you had to be protected. Sweet on one level, but on those nights it took you both a long time to go back to sleep, Frankie’s adrenaline spiking high and your own heart rate going through the roof after being so brutally woken up. You were grateful that he seemed to need to hold you as close as possible on those nights, it made it easier for you to fall back asleep with his heavy arm draped across your waist or chest, pulled in so tight that you could hear his heartbeat, feel it slow down as he calmed. 

The next morning he’d wake up in a dark mood, feeling guilty about scaring you and bringing his issues into your life. You soon figured out that the best way to get him past his sullen thoughts was to pull him down on the sofa and make him lay back, resting against you. That way you could hook one arm around his broad chest, make him tip his head back on your shoulder and then scratch his scalp with your fingertips. His mind would stop racing, he would feel your heartbeat under his body and your fingers softly scraping through his curls, slowly realising that you weren’t leaving, that he wasn’t scaring you away by showing you the darker sides of himself. 

“I’m sorry, cariño, I’m such an idiot, it’s just me and my stupid brain causing trouble,” he mumbled while your fingers worked through his hair. 

“You’re not an idiot, Frankie,” you gently admonished him, “you know why your brain gives you nightmares, you’ve been through more than anyone should have to endure, “ you press a kiss to his head and he leans towards you. 

“My sponsor always says I should tell people close to me what’s going on when I start spiralling out of control, but that’s always been the hardest thing.” 

“Why is it hard?” you ask, still brushing through his soft curls, willing him to relax against you. 

Frankie shifts under your arm, turning so that he can press his face against the side of your neck, you feel him inhale deeply as he stretches his arm across your chest and pulls you closer. 

“It took me a long time to figure this out,” he says in a low voice, “I feel like I fail when I lose control, fail my family, my friends, anyone I wanna be close to.” His voice is muffled, pressed up against you as he hides his face, “I feel guilty about failing so I don’t ask for help and then it gets worse, I fall into to bad habits and that makes me feel like more of a failure and that makes me feel even more guilty and then it just spirals out of control.”

“What do you think will happen when you tell those you love about losing control?” you ask in a soft voice. You’re leaning your cheek against his head, feeling his breath fan across your neck and chest as he draws a deep breath. 

“That you’ll leave me, see what a fuck up I am and realise I’m not worth the effort.” You can barely hear his low whisper, it cracks at the end, and your heart clenches, your hands leaving his hair as you wrap your arms tight around him, burying your face against his soft curls. 

“Never, Frankie, never.” You squeeze him, willing him to understand how much he’s come to mean to you in this short time. “I don’t know what happens in the future but I can promise you that I’ll never leave you because I think you’re not worth the effort. And don’t say that about yourself, you’ll always be worth the effort, Frankie,” you lean back, putting your hand on his chin and tilting it up so that you can look at him, his eyes are distressed, the usually soft look, pained and tight. “I’ve already told you I think you’re the best man I’ve ever known and even if you spiral out of control and your demons get the better of you, I won’t leave because I know how good you are, what a great man you are and what a great father you are to Lucía.” 

Frankie closes his eyes as you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, a long breath escaping with a shudder, as if he’d been holding it in.

“I’m always scared I’ll fuck things up with her,” he says when you pull back from his lips. “How am I gonna be any kind of role model to her when this is what I’ve done with my own life?” 

“Frankie, you idiot,” you smile softly at him, and he looks confused. “You’ve had a passion for helicopters since you were a kid right?” He nods and you continue, “So you found a way to become a helicopter pilot, a very difficult profession that takes enormous dedication and skill. You then got sucked into the fucked up system of the military, and saw some horrible things. Things that any normal person would consider fucked up and have trouble processing, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess, bu- “ 

You stop him, “You didn’t get any adequate help to deal with your PTSD so you found a way to deal with it yourself. A stupid way, sure, but you had the willpower to get your shit together when it became about someone else but you, your daughter.” 

Frankie just nods, his eyebrows pulled up in that tight little knot you’ve seen so many times. 

“Don’t you get it?” you say, “you’ve already proved to her, before she was even born, that she’s the center of your universe and that you’ll do anything for her and that she can do anything she wants. All she has to do is to look at how you’ve managed to get through some of the most fucked up shit.” 

Frankie looks at you as you stroke the lines between his eyebrows with your thumb, smoothing them out. “Frankie Morales, you’re amazing, and if you keep thinking you’re not I’ll have to smack you,” you smile at him and you see the corners of his mouth twitch up, “or I’ll get Pope to smack you,” you say and Frankie smiles properly, his face changing into that soft smile you’ve always loved. He drops his head down on your chest again, his nose pressed against your throat. 

“I’d like to see him try,” he chuckles as he wraps his arm around you and pulls himself on top, looking down at you. 

“Thank you,” he says, using your real name as if to emphasize, “I don’t know what I did in my last life to deserve you in this one.” 

“Maybe you saved my life somehow,” you smile and stroke your thumb over the bare patch in his scruffy beard, “and now you get to have incredible sex with me as a reward.” 

“Yeah?” he smirks, pulling up one corner of his mouth, “Maybe I wanna claim some of that reward right now.”

…

On Friday night, before Lucía’s coming to stay, Frankie picks you up for your date wearing no cap, but a white dress shirt with his dark jeans. You open the door and do a double take, holding out one hand in front of you to stop him, as you shamelessly admire the view. 

“Damn, Frankie…” you purr, letting your eyes travel down from the v of the open neck, the smattering of freckles dark against his tanned skin and white cotton, the wide shoulders that stretch the fabric when he crosses his arms, leaning on the door frame with a smile, his forearms on display where he’s rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, and all the way down over his slim hips and lean thighs under the black denim. 

“Are you taking me out to dinner, or are you delivering yourself for dinner?” you ask, giving him a wicked smile as you hook your finger into his shirt and pull him closer. Frankie chuckles and brushes his lips against yours. 

“Maybe I’m here to make a meal out of you…”

“Cheesy,” you giggled into his mouth, “but I’ll definitely remind yo-” 

He cuts you off with a kiss, pushing his hand into your hair and sealing his lips to yours, licking against your bottom lip before he gently sucks on it. A jolt of electricity immediately shoots down your spine and settles between your legs, the sheer promise of what he could deliver had you trembling. A moan escapes you as he pushes you against the wall and lets his thigh spread your legs, the friction shoots another jolt through your body and Frankie knows exactly what he’s doing. You can feel him move his thigh, the thick muscles giving just a taste of what his fingers would do later, and with a crooked smile he pulls back, both from your lips and your legs. 

“Frankie…” you moan, chasing his lips, but he chuckles and takes your hand, pulling you towards the door. 

“Let's get actual dinner before I make a meal out of you, my greedy little girl.” 

With a pout you follow him out the door but when he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses your neck in the elevator on the way down you melt, you were never really upset. “Who says I’ll keep my hands off you, hermosa,” he murmurs, “the restaurant is really dimly lit.” 

…

The place Frankie has picked is a new place you’d mentioned a while back and you squeeze his arm tightly when you realise that he’s made a reservation especially because he knew you wanted to go. He’s even requested a table at the back where the restaurant has a few tables in small window nooks overlooking the river. The waiter seats you and lights the two candles in the windows and in the small hanging chandelier over your heads, casting the whole table in a soft light. 

You sit down in the middle of the plush bench that curves under the windows, and Frankie sits down close to you, rather than opposite. You’re sharing a corner at the table, and even though there’d be more room if you sat at opposite ends, none of you are moving, least of all Frankie. Instead you feel his hand on your leg, slipping up under the edge of your dress, as soon as he sits down. His hand is hidden under the table cloth and although he lets his hand rest on your thigh for now, you’re fairly certain he won’t let it stay there.

The waiter returns to take your orders and while you’re asking about the fish dish Frankie’s fingers start moving, gentle little circles on your thigh but steadily moving up along your leg. You steal yourself to not let his touch get to you while you talk to the waiter, sitting perfectly still in your seat as you ask about the evening’s special. You can feel his fingers creep further up your leg, starting to tickle the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. From the corner of your eye you can see Frankie innocently studying the menu but you can also see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. As the waiter finishes with your order he turns to Frankie and as soon as the waiter’s eyes are off you, Frankie squeezes the inside of your thigh. Not hard, but enough to make your limbs clench together as you shudder from the jolt of heat that shoots through you, settling between your legs. Your involuntary spasm makes the waiter look at you again and you pretend to reach for the breadbasket as Frankie struggles to keep a straight face.

As soon as the waiter leaves Frankie turns to you with a mischievous grin and moves his hand further up your thigh. 

“Hermosa,” he purrs as you try to scowl at him, “your skin is so soft and grabbable right here.” He kneads the plush flesh of your inner thigh as you try to ignore the way it feels as he sinks his fingers into you. 

“You’re a menace, Francisco Morales,” you glare and he leans in on the table, propping his chin up with his free hand, so that his mouth is only inches from your lips. He continues to draw shapes on your skin as he looks at you, his face softening into an innocent look, big brown eyes looking at you like he’s only adoring his girlfriend, not slowly moving his hand up to brush the edge of your panties under the table.

“Why would you say that, cariño?” he asks, smiling as you clench your jaw when his finger tips nudges at your legs, beckoning you to spread them, and you obey without hesitation. “Am I distracting you from the nice view?” You scowl at him again but you can’t hide your smile and Frankie closes the last bit of distance between you and nudges the tip of his nose against yours, letting it brush along your cheek as he captures your lips with his. 

The kiss is soft and demure, anyone looking will only see a couple in love sharing a tender kiss, a sweet moment together. Frankie’s free hand takes your hand on the table and your fingers entwine, but under the table his fingertips are slowly brushing over the thin lace in your panties, feeling the dampness his touch is creating. He traces the slit under the fabric and grazes over your clit, making you quake against his lips, and you feel his mouth pull up in a smile. His tongue quickly darts between your lips as the pad of his thumb rubs with more pressure against the spot, pulling a soft moan from you as you lean into him. With a chuckle Frankie pulls away, moving his hand down your leg, and when you open your eyes to protest you see the waiter walking over with your drinks.

“I’m gonna get you back for this, you know,” you mumble and Frankie gives you a look of perfect innocence as he thanks the waiter for the drinks. When he leaves Frankie takes a sip from his beer and over the brim of his glass his eyes crinkle at the corners in a smile. 

“I think I’d like that, cariño, why don’t you try right now?” 

“No, I think I’ll pick a moment you’ll enjoy less,” you smile back at him, taking a sip of your own drink. 

Frankie leans forward, his hand falling below the table again and you quickly cross your legs as his hand touches your knee. 

“Ah, c’mon, cariño,” he coos, caressing the top of your thigh, edging under the hem of your dress again. 

“Keep your hands on the table, Francisco,” you give him a stern look that only makes him grin and scoot closer, leaning in so that he can skate his nose along your jaw, his lips brushing up against your ear, his hot breath tickling you. 

“Mi hermosa,” he mumbles, his lips barely touching your skin, “I want to touch you, feel if you’re as wet as I think you are.” He moves his mouth down and you feel the tip of his tongue slip out and lick across the spot he knows makes you shiver whenever he touches it. “I wanna to feel your sweet pussy tighten around my fingers as you think about what I’m gonna do with my mouth later.” 

His words make your eyes close as a shiver goes down your spine, heat pooling rapidly between your legs. And Frankie knows, he knows exactly what his dirty talk does to you. And now he continues to whisper how he wants to push your dress up over your hips, spread you before him and taste your sweet pussy, all the while his hand gently nudges your legs apart under the table. You feel heat rising in your cheeks as his fingers brush up over the soaked material in your panties. He’s telling you how good he knows you taste, how he loves the feeling of your pussy clenching around his tongue as he pushes into your tight hole. 

“I know you love how my nose rubs against your clit when I bury my face between your legs, hermosa,” he murmurs and you bite your lip to stop a moan escaping. Outwardly he’s still just whispering sweet nothings to you, a loving boyfriend nuzzled against the neck of his love, under the table his fingers have slipped past your panties and are pushing into your pussy, his thick index and ring finger stretching you. You lean forward on your elbows, tilting your head towards him, hiding your face from the room. Frankie’s teeth scrape against your skin as he curls his fingers back inside you, rubbing against the spot he always seems to find so easily. The thrill of him fingering you in public has your cheeks burning, your jaw is clenched tight to stop yourself from panting. Tension is building inside you as Frankie’s breath fans over your skin. 

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” he whispers, “I wish I could get down on my knees and lick you, tug that sweet little clit of yours into my mouth, make you come on my face just like I did - “

Frankie suddenly pulls back, footsteps approaching your table, his fingers slipping out of you as he sits up. 

“Alright, I’ve got the grilled tuna for the lady and the lamb racks for the gentleman,” the waiter says, placing plates on the table. 

You’ve still got your face turned away, cheeks burning as you calm your breathing. Frankie’s hand comes up and genty cups your chin, a soft smile on his face, as if you say he’s got you, and not at all sorry that he’s got you on the edge of an orgasm in the middle of a crowded Friday night restaurant. 

…

You barely make it to the truck once you're done with the meal. The thrum of your near orgasm is still humming through your body and Frankie’s warm arm around your waist, holding you close, makes you want to duck into an alley and risk getting caught for public indecency. You stop him and cup his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss, letting your tongue slip between his lips as his large hand cups the back of your head. You feel his other hand sliding up your back, pressing you against his chest and you lick into his mouth, tasting him and the chocolate he had for dessert. Heat shoots through your body as he presses his hard on into you, he’s trying to create friction to give himself some relief but the way your body reacts, a low moan slipping out, only makes him harder. With a groan he pulls away, grabbing your hand and almost drags you the last bit to the truck. 

It’s parked on a side street and you pull him against you again when he takes you around to the passenger side. Slipping your hand in between you, you palm his cock through his jeans, Frankie grumbles, dropping his head on your shoulder and letting his mouth kiss your neck.

“I need to get you home, hermosa,” he murmurs, his face buried in your hair. “I wanna get you out of this dress so badly.”

 Letting your fingers trace the outlines through the fabric, you circle around the tip pressed against the zipper and Frankie’s breath hitches, his teeth sinking into your neck, sucking against the skin. Behind your back he opens the door to the truck and manoeuvres you so that he’s got his arms at your waist. With casual strength that takes your breath away he lifts you up, setting you down on the bench seat, and for a second you think he’s going to climb up after you. Instead he stops, one foot up on the step, his gaze dropping to where your knees fall open, he’s got a perfect view and his eyes go dark. His hand grabs your thighs, pushing you further into the truck and pushing them wider, the tip of his tongue comes out and licks his bottom lip, before he tears himself away, looking up at you again and inhales deeply as he steps down and closes the door. 

You can’t help but giggle at the effect you had on him and he notices your smile when he pulls himself into the driver’s seat. 

“What are you giggling about, cariño?” he says, buckling in and starting up the truck. His hard cock is straining against his jeans, and you scoot closer to him, cupping your hand around it. 

“Nothing,” you say, “nothing at all, sweetie,” but you smile when you see his jaw clench as soon as your palm presses against his cock and his voice is strained when he replies.

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna have to park the truck somewhere dark before we get back to my place.” 

“Would you like that, Frankie?” you ask in a low voice, leaning in so that your breath tickles his neck and you see goosebumps break out on his skin.

“If you’re asking if I wanna fuck you in my truck, then, fuck yes. But let's save that for a date where I can do it properly, and not in the corner of some Costco parking lot.” His voice is a dark rumble as he looks over at you, pausing the truck at a stop sign. His unruly curls are creating a halo lit by the street light behind him and it reminds you of the first time you were in his truck. Him driving to the airfield with you and you’re struck by how much has happened since that first day with Frankie. 

“Remember when we were first in your truck together?” you ask, mirroring the gesture you did then, lifting your hand to push it through the soft curls on his head. 

“I do, vividly,” he smiles, leaning into your hand, “I told you to do that again when we weren’t in any vehicles I would crash.” 

“You also said you wanted to kiss me.” 

“I did, and I wanted to kiss you right then, but it took like three more tries before I got my chance.” Frankie chuckles as he puts the truck in drive again. He lifts his arm so that he can put it around your shoulders, pulling you in, and you take your hand from his cock, not wishing to cause any accidents, resting it on his thigh instead. 

“Put your hand back there as soon as we’re inside the apartment, please,” Frankie says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, making you giggle and squeeze his thigh. Your sexual energy is still thrumming in your nerves but they simmer lower as you lean against Frankie, feeling a different kind of energy in your system. 

This man makes you feel safe, comfortable and wanted. You drop your head against his shoulder, relishing in the way his sheer presence wraps you up in a cocoon of happy content, as if his solid, calm energy makes your body relax and sink into him. Frankie’s own self doubts and nerves never seemed to seep out of him, he pulled them into himself, you could see in his eyes when he was pulled under by his negative thoughts, but the energy he gave to you was always solid, like a rock holding you steady. 

“You’re my rock, Frankie,” you say, as you wrap your arm across his waist, hugging him tightly. 

“Your rock, cariño?” he smiles, dropping his eyes from the road for a second to look at you. 

“You’re solid like a rock, making me feel calm when I’m with you, like you can handle whatever happens and keep me safe.” 

“I don’t know how much of a rock I am, I’ve struggled with keeping myself steady for most of my life,” he says, his voice a little doleful. 

“I know, but somehow you still manage to make me feel like you’re the most stable person in the world.” 

“You mean boring,” Frankie snorts, “should I be insulted?” 

You slap him playfully and shake your head, “Anything but boring, Frankie, just…you make me feel calm, and relaxed, when I’m with you. And happy. Very, very happy.” 

You feel him tighten his arm around your shoulders, “Mi amor,” he mumbles, his lips pressed to your hair as he keeps one eye on the road, “you make me very, very happy too.”

…

The mood changes as you get to Frankie’s apartment, riding up the elevator he nods up at the security camera in the corner and you resort to snuggling into him, keeping everything PG. But the second he’s got you over the threshold he cages you in between his arms against the door, his long body pressed up against yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck as his mouth finds yours. 

“Longest fucking dinner of my life,” he murmurs against you, his hips are flush against your belly and the hard line of his cock twitches between you. “Would’ve pulled you out of there and actually fucked you in my truck if I hadn’t waited three weeks for that reservation.” 

“You’re such a romantic, Frankie,” you smile, grabbing hold of his curls and pulling him back a little so that you can see his dark eyes, his eyelids half closed and a greedy look on his face. 

“Put your hand back on my dick, please, hermosa,” he husks, rolling his hips so that you can feel his cock more firmly. Keeping a hold on his hair so that you can look at him you snake your other hand between you and cup it over the hard bulge in his jeans, stroking it firmly with your eyes locked on his. His lips curl up almost as if he’s in pain and a dark groan slips out between his parted lips as he keeps his eyes on you, his pupils are wide and half hidden under his eyelids. You repeat the motion, adding your nails, rasping them over the bulge and Frankie’s head falls back. 

“Fuuuuck….” he moans, louder this time, “fucking feels so good but I’m about to break the zipper, cariño,” he pants. 

You tug at his hair, “Eyes on me, Francisco.” The use of his full name snaps him back as you palm him again, using your nails, and the look in his eyes sparks something inside you. Leaning in, close to his ear, you nip lightly at his earlobe, pulling a soft gasp from him. 

“Frankie,” you whisper, “do you like it when I tell you what to do?” The groan from deep in his chest is answer enough, and when you lean back, looking at him again, his jaw is clenched and he’s got a strained look on his face. 

“Tell me what to do, hermosa,” he grates out, his hips still against your palm cupped over his aching cock. His eyebrows are tightly knitted, his dark eyes fixed on your as he swallows hard, but he doesn’t move. 

You smile, the thought of having Frankie obeying your orders turns you on more than you thought it would. He’s always in control when you have sex, apart from the last few minutes when he loses himself, pumping into you as he chases his orgasm, he’s always in control. He always makes sure you come once or twice before he thinks about himself, he’s always thinking about how to give you as much pleasure as possible and seems to get as much out of it as you do. But he’s always called the shots, until now. 

“Frankie…” you purr, pulling your hand up from his dick to stroke your fingertips over his patchy beard, “this is new, I can call the shots tonight?” 

“Yes, baby, tell me what you want me to do,” his face is less strained now that your hand isn’t caressing his aching cock but his tone is still a dark groan

“Take me to your bedroom, Frankie,” you say, testing the waters, although this is hardly a difficult one. 

With a swift motion he bends and puts his arm behind your knees, the other at your back, picking you up as your arms wrap around his neck for purchase and he walks through the dimly lit apartment.  

“With the risk of sounding like a cavewoman,” you giggle, “your strength always turns me on, I forget how strong you are until you pick me up like I weigh nothing.”

“Maybe I should pick you up more often,” Frankie grins, pushing open the door to his bedroom. “Tell me, what do you want me to do with you now?” 

“Put me down,” you say and he gently sets you down on your feet and you sit down on the edge of the bed, giving him a mischievous smile. 

“Take your clothes off for me, Frankie.” 

He grins and starts rolling down the sleeves of his white shirt before unbuttoning it, revealing more tanned skin as he moves down. 

“The thing is,” you say, your eyes shamelessly watching him slide the shirt off his wide shoulders, “you’re always in control when we have sex. Making sure I come first, making me come several times before you even let me touch you.” Frankie gives you a proud smirk while his hands undo his belt and slides it out, dropping it on the floor next to the shirt. “And tonight, I wanna do the same to you.” You watch as his hands still, his zipper halfway down. 

“Don’t stop, Francisco,” you tell him. “You take your pants off at the last moment, when you’ve already got me spread out on the bed, coming down from you eating my pussy. I wanna watch you properly this time.” At the mention of him eating you out he narrows his eyes and you see the pink tip of his tongue peek out between his lips, his eyes dropping to the hem of your dress. 

“Maybe later, Frankie, if you’re a good boy,” you smile and his eyes find yours, the greedy look in them almost makes you want to drop your game and let him take control again. But instead you watch him push his jeans down over his narrow hips, catching his socks at the same time as he steps out of them. He stands up, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his snug black boxers, looking at you with his head tilted to the side and a crooked grin. 

“Want me to keep going?” he asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

You bite your lip, it’s hard to keep a straight face when he’s looking so good standing in front of you and he knows you’re cracking. “I didn’t tell you to stop, Francisco,” you manage to press out. 

The boxers are stretched over his rigid cock, doing nothing to hide the sheer size of him or how aroused he is. When you first had sex with him he was a bit self conscious, both about his body and the size of dick. Any qualms about this size you’d dispelled the first time, he knew you loved how he filled you up and you let him know it, loudly. His hang ups about his flat butt and soft belly were harder to dispel, but now he’s standing in front of you without any nerves, confidence oozing from him as he drags his boxers down his hips. He keeps his eyes on you as they slide over his cock, making it jump out as the elastic pulls over the tip. You’re flitting your eyes between his boxers and his face, your tongue peaking out without you noticing, licking your lips as he drops the boxers and strokes himself a few times with languid passes. 

“Lie down on the bed, Frankie,” you order him, standing up so that he can stretch out and lie back. He puts his hands out for you, trying to pull you down on top of him but you smile and slip away from his hands. 

“Patience, Frankie boy,” you purr and swat his hand away from your leg as he grins. 

You’ve still got your dress on and you see his cocky smile fade away as you give him the same view you just got. You’re wearing the black wrap around dress he loves and as his dark eyes watches, you untie it at the waist and let it fall open, pulling the ribbon out of the dress. 

“Hermosa,” Frankie moans, “you’re so beautiful, come here, let me touch you, please.” 

Shrugging it off your shoulders you step back up on the bed and straddle Frankie’s thighs, his hard cock jutting up towards his stomach just in front of you. 

“Not yet, my sweet Frankie,” you coo, “I know you want to taste me, make me come with your face buried in my pussy, but not yet.” 

Frankie’s jaw clenches and you can see his hands grabbing hold of the covers as you sit down. He’s desperate to touch but determined to let you guide him this time. The black lace panties and bra you’re wearing aren’t helping, it’s his favourite set. You’d asked for his advice when you bought it a few weeks ago and his cock had twitched when he thought about seeing you in it, wrapped like a present for him. Now you’re hovering above his erection, wearing that set, leaning down over him as your hand closes around the base. 

“Cariño,” he grumbles with a shiver as your breath ghosts over the head of his cock, it’s already weeping, drops of precum collecting at the slit. “Please…” 

“Please what, Frankie?” you smile, leaning closer to the tip, sticking out your tongue, keeping your eyes on him. His eyes are black, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at where the tip of your tongue traces the slit of his cock. When you make contact he moans, his hips bucking up involuntarily. 

“Please, hermosa,” he pants, and you lick your tongue over the head, collecting the salty liquid as he groans and bucks his hips again. Your mouth sinks over him and he’s fisting the covers, fighting the urge to grab on to your head, instead he watches as his aching cock disappears between your lips. He can feel the head gliding along the inside of your mouth as you take him deeper, your tongue licking along the length, teasing along the swollen ridges and veins that thrum with heat. Saliva drips from your mouth, down over his cock and you use it to slide your hand up and down him, easing the friction over the part that’s not in your mouth. 

Heat is building fast in his belly, your mouth is a hot vise around his cock, taking more and more down your throat as he gasps and groans, screwing up his eyes when he can’t watch, when he gets too close to coming. He’s rambling as he shivers underneath you, praising your mouth, your tongue, your hands. When your nose brushes against the wiry curls at the base of his cock, the head bumping the back of your throat, he cries out, begging you for release. 

“Please, you’re so good to me, let me…oh fuck you feel good,” he stutters, his voice catching as you close your mouth around him, dragging your lips along his length as you increase the pressure.

“Fuck…your mouth…hermosa, your mouth, make me come, let me come in you.” He opens his eyes again, looking down at you as you sink your mouth down over him again, you can taste his precum on your tongue, more of it leaking out. 

His hips are jerking up, he’s breathing fast as he whimpers and you lift your eyes to him, meeting his gaze. Seeing him like this, his mouth hanging open as he whines, looking wrecked, he screws his face up as if he’s in pain, makes you shudder, your panties are soaked, every one of his moans and whines going straight to your core. 

You sink down deeper over him, your tongue licking every inch of him as you take as much as you can, letting his cock brush against the back of your throat again as you move your mouth up and down his length, stroking the slick base with your hand coated in his precum and your saliva. 

Frankie lets out a broken growl, “fuck, cariño, ple…please…I’m gon - “ his stuttering turns into shout as you feel the first burst of thick liquid coat your tongue, he’s jerking his hips, his hands fly from the sheets and tangle in your hair as he pumps himself upwards, your mouth closing tight around his pulsating cock, milking his spend as it shoots out of him. Frankie’s whole body tenses up, his back arching off the bed, the corded tendons on his neck stretch and tremble when he throws his head back, a cry as if he’s in pain tearing itself from his throat. 

You continue to stroke him through his climax, looking up at him, seeing his throat strain as he pants, groaning through his high. His thrusts grow slower and you let your mouth drag along him, softening your lips as you let him pump the last of himself over your tongue, ending with a small kiss on the tip of his sensitive head. He relaxes and looks down at you again, seeing your mouth come off him and you wipe the back of your hand over your mouth. 

“Help, I can’t move,” he groans softly and you smile at him as you crawl up his body and lie down in his arms. 

“I liked that,” you say, wrapping an arm over his chest as he pulls you in close. “I see why you like eating my pussy first, it’s a rush to have that power.” 

“Don’t get used to it, cariño,” Frankie smiles, “I’m not giving it up so easily.” 

“I’ll get Benny to teach me how to bark orders like in the military, you seem to like me bossing you around.” 

“Only because I let you,” he pokes his finger into your side, “I wanted to see if you had it in you.” 

“Bullshit!” you splutter and almost sit up, but Frankie’s arm tightens around you and pulls you back down. “The second I used your full name you caved.” 

“I hated hearing my full name in the army, it meant I was in trouble. But when you say it, cariño lindo…I melt.” 

“I know, Francisco Morales,” your giggle turns into a squeal when he suddenly grabs your arms and flips you over. 

“Ahora, mi hermosa,” he murmurs as he sinks his mouth to your neck, “now it’s your turn.”

Chapter 8

[greenaswildfire]

How being "Team Dorne" has shaped my opinions on hotd (and later my convictions as Team Green)

Alright, first of all, I'd like to state that Dorne is one of my favorite regions in ASOIAF. Book Dorne I mean, mostly because of fan theories because if we rely only on Martin we will never see what Dorne is planning.

Being Team Dorne also means I'm not fond of dragons and Targaryens/valyrians in general, so why all of a sudden I was convinced by the Greens, who also have dragons/Targaryens?

Well, here are the reasons based mainly on hotd and book spoilers/theories I've read:

3-They're losing dogs: everybody knows at this point that the Greens will always be sabotaged by writers, even in their already few victories. I guess that when one is ff writer or reader, one sees right through other people's creative choices and detects reasons/impacts/intentions more easily. That's what I feel with hotd, after years writing as a hobby such "automatic analysis" it's habit atp, I feel Team Green as the cornered rats of a japanese old saying: the cornered rat will bite the cat. The more they're sabotaged by the writers, the more I'll like them. Dorne also has always been seen as weak, a dying land taken by rhoynar immigrants, but yeah, they were the only ones to repel Targaryens and their dragons. They were also seen as losing dogs when actually they're incredibly badass.

2-Dorne is a much, much, and I say, MUCH better version of the Dance of the dragons, without dragons! How is that possible?!

-Arianne Martell is ASOIAF's version of Rhaenyra, but ofc, a way better version of her. She's cunning, resourceful, her "my father doesn't love meeeeeh, my birthright is threateneeeed" convictions are hard to change, she wants to prove herself, she has quite a lot of connections, she resorts to seduction and manipulation if needed to convice people to join her crazy plans, but at the same time, she worries about them if things go wrong, which means she's aware of her actions/choices and how it impacts others, and when Doran finally tells her the truth, she stops acting like a spoiled brat and finally starts acting like what one expects of an heir. She's flawed, she's human, she wanted her father's approval like Aegon wanted his parents affection.

-Arys Oakheart was Myrcella's kingsguard and Arianne didn't hesitate to use him and bring him to her side (or try to), it reminds me of Cole and how he was also used and later discarded by hotd!Rhaenyra. Arianne at least had a masterplan in mind and it took half a year, Rhaenyra just wanted someone to play and forced herself on Cole. In the end, both knights spend their remaining days trying to make up for the vows that women lead them break: Arys protects the real Myrcella who is missing now, and Cole fiercely keeps fighting for his found family in the Dance. It is said that both die deaths without honor, but what do we mean with "without honor"? Imo, from the moment you have a clear purpose in mind, a reason to fight, a reason to die for, it is not an honorless death/fight anymore. If "death with honor" to you means only "death by dragonfire" than yeah, their deaths were bland and honorless. But both knew what they were getting into, and accepted death anyway for the sake of their causes/reasons.

-Oberyn is quite a comparison to Daemon: there's a moment when Oberyn beds the paramour of an Yronwood guy. And to make things worse, he kills the man in a duel "by accident" :D Oberyn ends up exiled in the free cities and when he returns, it's to avenge Elia and her children. Uncles, always chaotic uncles, and iirc Arianne also found uncle Oberyn attractive :D

-Quentyn is a parallel for Aegon: as result of Oberyn's deeds, House Martell was kindly forced to send Quentyn to be fostered by the Yronwoods (You have to send your elder son to be fostered by an andal house. which happens to be the biggest rival of your house.. maan, huge seed for dance here). In other words he's a hostage, but Quentyn even considers Anders Yronwoods like a father, he's grown there after all. Like Aegon, he doesn't want to be the Prince of Dorne like Arianne thinks he wants. He wants a lot of things, but to rule is not one of these things. And when he's sent to find Daenerys, she isn't in Meereen anymore, but just like Aegon who wanted to prove himself, he tries to tame a dragon so he wouldn't return empty-handed. It is said that Quentyn didn't survive, but if we consider how Aegon II was hard to kill, certainly Quentyn is also alive. Burnt, but alive. I don't remember which dragon he tried to tame before, but it would be nice if he came back with Viserion, his cream colors and clingy behavior would be a nice parallel to Sunfyre and Aegon.

-Other interesting aspect is how Arianne claims that Anders Yronwood is Criston Cole reborn and he'll help Quentyn usurp her birthright just because. But guess what, the name of one of her chapters is essentially the same as Criston's (Queenmaker/Kingmaker), and she is the one who tries to crown Myrcella. We know almost nothing about Anders, so it's hard to judge his character based solelly on Arianne's or 'Quentyn's opinion. Regardless, it shows how Arianne is aware of History, and how she thinks things happen again and again.

-It's also interesting to compare Daemon-Viserys, and Oberyn-Doran. Daemon and Oberyn are both seen as the dangerous elements of the House, while Viserys and Doran the weaklings. Doran, however, is waaay smarter and resourceful than Viserys, Viserys was too dumb for his own good, he didn't know how to play the game. Doran does know, and that's why he's also dangerous: if you're strong, feign weakness. Sometimes I even think that Doran rhymes more with Otto because of that.

-Arianne's trip to honor the marriage pact and meet fAegon rhymes a bit with Rhaenyra's travel to find a husband. In hotd Rhaenyra ignores all the suitors and gets stuck with Laenor. I imagine the same will happen with Arianne and after getting all the infos she needs from fAegon and the golden company, she turns fAegon down.

And most importantly:

1-Feminine empowerment...: do we have feminine empowerment outside Dorne? We do, all female characters play the game of thrones the best they can. But in terms of western concept of empowerment and freedom, Dorne is considered one of the main elements of femininere presentation in ASOIAF. It's also no secret that Targaryens/Valyrians have g3nocid3d rhoynars and their customs in the past. Watching how Rhaenyra struggles for the implementation of the rhoynar custom of primogeniture that her ancestors had helped destroy for centuries in Essos screams "Karma" and I love it. You're the good deeds and the bad deeds of your ancestors, you can't choose. You'll inherit their rights, but also their duties and misdeeds.

These parallels have contributed a lot to the way I consume hotd, because really, I can't, it's hard to take hotd!Rhaenyra's attempts of feminine empowerment seriously no matter how much Condal and Hess force me to believe that Rhaenyra is a compeling character with a total valid reason that justifies her santity and her "call to adventure" as valyrian savior of Westeros.

And it's a shame, because I see how much effort is put on this show.. not much in terms of writing ofc, but as for the rest? Nothing less than stelar.

Anyway, as usual, Team Green is doing great with the few glories they are allowed to have and I'm sure the actors will keep doing a great job. Condal, Hess, directors: let the actors work, they can capture nuances that could save the writing just like our brilliant Diana Riggs (RIP) had done with Lady Olenna in GOT's last seasons. Just saying.

[fandomworld9728]

Dance With Me, Kiss Me:

"Oh Alastor, stop hiding in the corner and come join the party."

The party in question was a celebration for their victory against the Exorcist Army and had been the princess' idea. A way to thank those who helped in the battle and to raise moral.

Alastor had to admit, it wasn't a half bad idea. The residents' moods had improved tremendously after the rebuilding of the hotel and during the process of putting together this clam bake. It had even turned into an impromptu bonding activity for some of them.

Which is the reason the radio demon was standing in a corner away from everyone, nursing a drink. He had found himself getting a little too close to the King of Hell. Most sinners would give anything for that chance. Alastor on the other hand? It scared him.

Once they started to have an actual conversation, it was frightening how easily Alastor had spilt his guts to the other man. As if they had been close for years. Charlotte was correct in her insistences that the two were similar and would get along if they just gave it a chance.

Their distaste in modern technology, mainly television, was one of the main bonding points. The other... had been their lack of interest in romance and carnal desires. It had led to the deer demon confessing to the fallen angel how much he hated kissing and his horrible experience with the action.

"Then how do you know for sure?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"How do you know for sure if you dislike kissing? All you have to go off of is that one bad experience."

As much as Alastor hated to admit it, and he would never say this out loud, Lucifer had a point. Not that he was eager to lock lips with someone. However, their talk got him thinking. And not just about kissing.

"I am contemplating my next move. Tell me, my dear, what is your stance on our king? Do you believe him to be trustworthy?"

If there was anyone's opinion he valued down here in Hell, it was Rosie's. She was an excellent judge of character (not counting her many ex-husbands) and had a talent for reading people.

"Well now, what a surprise. Finally making a move to add the other member of Hell's royal family to your plans? Let me see."

Getting her teasing out of the way, Rosie let her eyes scan the room for Hell's King. She knew something had been up with her friend since she saw him. And if he was coming to her about it on his own, she wasn't gonna mess with him about it. Not too much anyways.

Finding her target off on his own, Rosie took a few moments to watch him before turning back to her fellow Overlord.

"I may not know a lot from personal experience about our lovely ruler, however, if there were anyone here in Hell to trust... honestly it would be Charlie. That being said, do remember who raised that sweet girl."

~

Leaning against a wall, Lucifer lightly swirled his drink in his hand and took the chance to people watch. It's something he's enjoyed since he first came into creation. Now, the fallen angel was usually the life of the party, but that was because those parties were with the other Sins and upper-class Hellborns.

He didn't want the guests to feel like they had to walk on eggshells when they should be having fun. So, he stayed as a wallflower and made sure no one caused any trouble. One less thing for his little girl to worry about. This also gave him time to think about his conversation with Alastor.

Turns out talking to the radio demon was easier and surprisingly enjoyable when he wasn't intentionally trying to piss the king off. So much so, that the two openly discussed their experiences with intimacy.

"So, you had not so great times with that kind of stuff too?"

"Indeed. A former friend of mine, Vox, showed me how unpleasant and repulsive kissing can be. Not to mention the time I grew up in."

"Oh yeah. Dating culture was a lot different back then. What had he done to make kissing so gross to you?"

Lucifer knew as soon as Alastor hesitated that a line had been crossed. That seriously pissed him off. He had half a mind to go find that piece of scum and handle the sinner himself.

No one deserved that. Not even murderers who cannibalized their victims and seemed to love to poke and pick at the devil to get a reaction out of him. Who has done other horrible things in his life and afterlife. Before he could get too spun up from the memory, a hand came into view, outstretched to him.

"Care to dance, majesty?"

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