#and then they hit you with the fucked up shit and you just stare into space for half an hour processing it all
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willaminareads · 2 days ago
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too busy
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PARING: exhusband!drew x reader
SUMMARY: you and drew had been divorced for a little under a year now. while drew had your two kids this weekend, zach unfortunately let it slip, that mommy had a new "friend". drew was anything but thrilled.
WORD COUNT: 667 words
WARNINGS: possesive drew, angst, fluff, cursing, kids.
WILLA SPEAKS: hey! this is my first fic, on this blog, and i'm so excited!! please note that english is not my first language, so if any mistakes occur, i'm so sorry! enjoy<3
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you stand outside his door, waiting for him to open it. you were a little nervous. you didn't exactly have a reason to be, but you were.
"y/n," drew says as he opens the door. "hi, baby, come in. the kids are in their playroom." he ushers you inside, hoping you didn't notice he let the nickname slip. old habits die hard.
you smile softly at the nickname but quickly stop once you notice. this is your ex. hell, not even just your ex—your ex-husband.
you follow him inside his new house. you liked it, though it did remind you of the house the two of you once shared.
"can i get you anything?" drew breaks the silence.
"you have tea?" you ask softly.
"the kettle is already on, sweetheart," he responds in the same soft tone. god, he knows me so well, you thought.
he finds a cup for you and starts preparing the tea. silence falls between you. it wasn't awkward per se, but not exactly pleasant either.
drew is the first to break the silence, still keeping all his attention on your tea. "zach says you've got a new friend." his tone is sharp, not at all soft like the one you'd heard just a couple of minutes ago.
a quiet "oh," was all you could muster up. you didn't know what to say. i mean, what could you say?
he turns his attention to you, handing you the cup of tea. "yeah, that was my reaction as well," he says bitterly.
you sigh. "come on, drew, don't do this." guilt written all over your face.
he lets out a dry laugh. "i didn't do shit, y/n."
"i'm allowed to move on, drew," you say softly, catching his gaze.
"the fuck you are," he sneers, placing his hands on the countertop. "i can't, so you don't get to either." his statement hangs in the air as you stare at each other.
you scoff. "no, you don't get to do this, drew. you fucked up. you didn't have time for us," you say, knowing how to hit him where it hurts.
"don't say that." he looks down, unable to meet your eyes.
"why not, drew? it's true," you state. "you were too busy with your big dreams, and, i mean, it worked out for you," you say, waving your arms slightly. "you have everything a man could want," you taunt.
"you know that's not true," he glares at you.
you shrug. "you can't have your cake and eat it too."
he scoffs at your comment. "right, okay. you're getting on my nerves, y/n," he bites. "you know how much i wanted to make this work. you know how much i love you—"
you cut him off. "loved."
"no, fuck that, and fuck you for saying it," he raises his voice at you. he doesn't do that often. "i'm sorry..." he takes a deep breath. "you know that i still love you. i just want another chance, y/n. let me show you that we can make this work," he says softly, reaching for your hand.
you shake your head at him. "we can't put the kids through another divorce, drew," you say softly.
"we won't," he says. "come on, y/n. we can make this work."
you sigh. "drew..."
"please," he says, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek.
"there's no new guy." drew stares at you, a little confused, waiting for you to continue. "that friend zach says he saw me with?" drew nods along. "it was chase."
"chase? as in my co-star chase?" drew asks, utterly confused.
"yeah... he and maddie came by to help me build a dresser." you bite your lip, your nerves taking over your body.
"oh," he falls silent.
"drew?" you ask.
"so, no new guy?" he asks with a glint of playfulness in his eyes.
"no new guy." you confirm.
"so... do you wanna marry me again..?" he asks.
"drew!" you exclaim with laughter as you smack his arm.
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mywritersmind · 6 hours ago
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MARKS ON YOUR BODY - LN4||OP81
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summary : In which it starts with strip poker and ends with questions about a specific hidden tattoo and some secret piercings. Or, Lando and Oscar are both hot for you and let you know it.
listen up : zakbrowndaughter!reader 18+ not fully smut but pretty suggestive (at least for me who doesn’t write smut lol) i’m blushing. STRIP POKER PHOTO INSPIRED!! tramp stamp and tits pierced??🙂‍↕️
words : 1425
⋆。‧˚⋆
“Alright Lan, You wanna stop?” Oscar eyes Lando who’s in pants only. The only way Lando would lose strip poker is if he distracted me too much with his body.
He laughs, “Fuck no!”
“Fuck yes.” I throw down my cards and yawn, “I’m bored of winning.” Oscar had so many pieces of outerwear that he’s lost multiple times but still is wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
Strip poker is my game apparently, maybe the possibility of the guys being naked fueled my fire.
“I swear you’re cheating.” Lando shakes his head.
Oscar’s laughing as I scoff, “I do not cheat! Just accept defeat, Norris.”
He leans against the table, “I’m not losing to you, Brown.”
“I think it’s too late for that, Lando.” Oscar fiddles with a card in his hand as I lean my head back. Apparently, my hair moves with me and Oscar’s brow shoots up, “You have a tattoo?”
I blink, “Uh yeah.”
“What!?” Lando practically screams, “Let’s see.”
I move back my hair to reveal the tattoo that’s behind my ear, it’s a tiny 8 for the number I grew up racing with. “That’s hot.” Lando nods as Oscar hits his arm, “I want to get a tattoo.”
“No you do not!” Oscar argues as Lando sends him a dirty look.
He turns back to me, his arms crossed against the table so his biceps pull my attention, “Did it hurt?”
I shrug, “Yeah, but some of my others hurt more.”
Lando’s jaw drops, “You have more? How did we not know this?”
I laugh again, “I hide them from my dad.”
“Really?” Oscar asks, seemingly surprised at my sneaky nature.
The corner of my mouth pulls upwards, “You wanna see the rest?”
His eyes are deep as he nods and taps the card against the table. “I’m assuming they’re easy to hide.”
I sigh and hook my finger to the bottom of my shirt, pulling it upwards. He's right, of course. All of my tattoos aren’t easily seen by my father.
I pull my shirt until I reach my sternum. Lando’s smile dulls as his eyes zero in on my skin, clearly not wanting to miss anything. I have a star design that goes in a line with little details around it.
Oscar leans his head back against the headrest, biting his lip and checking me out. I don’t think he’s ever looked hotter.
Lando’s hair is a mess but in the sort of attractive way that makes you want to pull it. The two of them are my greatest desire with bright orange caution tape put up by my father.
Zak Brown hates when I'm with the two of them, no matter which, he doesn’t trust me. But coming back from the FIA awards, they offered me a ride since we were all going back to england, so it was only polite to accept.
I drop my shirt and I swear I see Lando’s mouth fall into a frown. “Damn… didn’t know you went against daddy’s orders.”
I smirk, “He hates tattoos…Thinks they’re trashy. Which is ironic because...” I stop myself before I can go on, trailing off and grabbing my water to play it off.
“Because what?” Oscar asks.
“Um…” I don’t really know what to say and I feel quite overwhelmed with these two men staring at me.
“You have one more. Don’t you?” Oscar’s trying to hide his smirk but is shit at it. Lando looks to his teammate, then me.
“Now we have to see.” The curly haired man stretches his arm on the table, his muscles rippling and making me bite my lip.
“Okay.” I situate myself so I'm sitting on my feet. I pause, looking at both of them for a second. The whole thing is so oddly erotic and ridiculously hot.
I turn around in my seat, pulling down the back of my sweats ever so slightly so my tramp stamp is in view. I look over my shoulder to see their reactions because neither of them say a thing.
Oscar is staring, face blank and directed at my lower back. Lando’s mouth is open just the slightest bit, his arm draped over the back of Oscar’s seat. It’s not huge, just thin lines that make up a butterfly and some swirls to compliment it.
“Fuck.” Lando whispers, Oscar looks at him but doesn’t tell him to stop, just mumbles along with his friend. “Yeah.”
“You like it?” I know they do. I’m not blind.
The two are staring at me like i’m fucking edible and the way they look right now, I might be. “I’d be an idiot not to.” Oscar says as I turn back around, my shirt still pulled up and my hair to one side.
“I think this is the first time Lando’s been speechless.” I joke as his eyes meet mine again and his cheeks go pink. “Am I making you nervous, Norris?”
I expect him to roll his eyes or scoff, but he just breathes out and says, “You’re really hot, Y/n.”
“Can’t argue with him there.” Oscar wipes a hand over his mouth before tapping the table, “I wanna see it closer.”
I realize that he means he wants me to sit on the table. “Not even a please?” I tease but I'm already turning and setting myself down on it.
I’m about to adjust my pants but Lando’s hand does it for me. His skin is cold and holds my hip as his fingers dip below my waistband.
“Why a butterfly?” Oscar asks, leaning against the table to get a better look. I lean back and rest against my arms as they look.
“Thought it was cute.”
Oscar laughs a bit, “How often do you mark your body because it’s cute?”
Lando slides out of his seat, moving into mine so I'm facing him. He doesn’t even ask, just slides a hand onto my hip and another on my shirt, pulling it up to see my sternum.
Oscar switches with Lando so he’s now holding the back of my sweats. I let my eyes train down Lando’s chest… his abs… his arms. He’s fit as fuck and the way he was acting during strip poker, he knows it.
I go back to Oscar's question, realizing I got distracted by Lando in front of me. “Very often actually, piercings too.”
This prompts Lando to push my hair behind my ear, admiring my jewelry, “How many do you have?” He sounds almost out of breath.
“Twelve.” His fingers drift over my earrings, counting.
“You only have five on each, though.” As soon as Lando says it, I hear Oscar shift in his seat.
I don’t even wait for Lando to catch on, I just grab his wrist and have my shirt go up with his hand. Lando lets out a noise, close to a whimper.
He stares at my bare chest, the only thing on me is my jewelry decorating each nipple.
I hear Oscar stand, his hand gripping my hip tighten as he gets closer. He’s looking over my shoulder, I lean back a bit so he has a better view of my tits.
Lando’s hand is resting on my neck, pushing my shirt against my skin, I can feel his pulse beat faster under my fingertips.
Lando’s gaze shifts to Oscar as the brown eyed man stares back at him. I feel like they’re having some telepathic conversation that I can’t understand, until Oscar looks back at me.
His eyes are darker, the air filled with tension. As my eyes flick to Lando, I see his chest rise and fall. I get it now.
My hand slips to Oscar’s face, his jaw and cheek warm against my touch. I hesitate purely to see how his breath hitches, then I kiss him.
Lando swears as Oscar’s tongue dips into my mouth, he freezes between my legs. I break the kiss with Lando, hooking my leg around his waist to pull him in closer.
“Are you still nervous?” I whisper as Oscar moves his lips to my neck. Lando looks like he’s dreaming, his head turning side to side slowly as I smirk.
He kisses me, softer than Oscar at first but he becomes sloppier when I start being affected by Oscar attached to my neck.
The aussie mumbles against my skin, “This your end goal all along? Strip poker… tattoo tour… fuck?”
I lean my head back and laugh, “No. I guess I'm just lucky.”
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4theluvofsapphos · 3 days ago
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┊┊★ ⋆ PAYRAISE (NSFW) ⋆ ★┊ ┊
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Mean Boss!Agatha x Personal Assistant!Reader
plot ~ you piss off your boss when you threaten to leave and she convinces you to stay the way she always does.
Ao3 Link: here!
AN: 300+ of you voted and some 30% of you guys wanted some Mean!Boss Agatha and Reader spiciness! I hope you guys enjoy. it will probably be kinda OOC I can't see Aggie being this mean in any other universe :,P tags: [[MDNI! 18+]] harsh/absuive language, Agatha basically committing work place harassment, degradation/praise, manhandling/rough, fingering (r receiving), mentions of drunk angry emailing, hair pulling (r receiving), choking (r receiving), titles 'mistress' (a receiving), blackmail(???) or coercion
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"I'm leaving." You barked, slamming your resignation papers down on the table with a splayed hand.
You glared at your 'employer', if you could even call her that. She was your boss, but she was also your girlfriend, but she wasn't really. She took you out on dates, she let you borrow her coat. She fucked you.
God, did she fuck you.
But that wasn't enough to keep you around any longer. She had thrown you around since day one, pulling you in with her charm and her sweet smile, only to spit in your face and push you back out the second you got too close to her heart.
She was sat at her desk, arms folded as she stared at her computer screen, no doubt reading over the angry email you had sent her before coming into work the previous night while drunk off some cheap vodka. She made no move to look up, her glasses sliding down her nose as her irises flitted across the choice words you had sent to her.
"I said I'm-"
"You can't. You won't" She retorted, gaze flicking up to glare at you with a pointed expression. There it was...that malice. That disgustingly possessive glowering that she did when she wanted to make you do something. It made your stomach turn and flip with butterflies...or were they wasps?
"No, Agatha. You can't make me stay anymore. You treat me like shit, you work me to the bone. You abuse me, you've made my life a living hell just because you wanted to. Just because you'd rather die than be vulnerable with me."
The brunette's pointed gaze twisted into a snarl and she stood up, her chair sliding back with a loud rattle as its wheels hit the back of the room.
"You're naive, you know that?" She spat, her blue eyes drilling into you with so much hatred-- and something else. Hurt.
You leaned over the table, your index finger jabbing into her sternum as you spoke, emphasising each accusation with a painful poke.
"You're just hurt I don't want to deal with your bullshit anymore. You've finally run out of young girls in Westview to play around with and you're mad about it."
You scowled as she stood, grabbing your forearm and shoving you back. She wasn't that much taller than you, but you wore flats, where she wore heels, and she was able to-- like she always did- look down on you. Peering down over the bridge of her nose, she sneered at you.
"Hurt?" A sharp laugh, a laugh of condescension,"You're the one close to tears, y/n. Don't look at me like I'm the one who hurt you when you are the one who doesn't know when to fucking stop."
You felt your face heat up at the older woman's pointed observation, your lips pursing and brow furrowing as you tried to keep the squeeze in your throat from reaching your eyes. You blinked hard, the tears managing to disperse on your waterline so she didn't have the pleasure of seeing them fall.
"Whatever. I'm leaving." You mumbled, folding your arms to try and comfort yourself and turning on your heel. Before you could get even two steps in, a sharp pain tugged at your scalp, your head throwing back as your hair was forcefully tugged on.
"I can change your mind, y/n..." That honeyed voice oozed into your mind, enveloping all of you and dissolving your common sense. Logically, you knew how this would end. She would fuck you, apologise, and then kiss you and expect you back at the same time tomorrow. Maybe she'd even text you to ask you on a date that coming weekend.
You knew it was her tactic.
She knew it worked.
Those slender fingers moved to cradle the back of your neck, spinning you around so you were face to face again. You were both leaning over her desk, Agatha having pushed her laptop aside in the time that you two had bickered.
"Agatha." You warned, your tone low and shaky.
"Y/n..." She murmured back, her lips pulling into that mischievous little smirk that melted your resolve every time.
With a simple look to the desk, you knew what she was asking. You crawled up, legs coming to swing over and hang off the ledge of the large wooden desk as Agatha settled between your legs. You looked up at her with angry eyes, the annoyance in you clashing with the puppy love she knew you were always eager to give her. "I'm sorry...." She crooned, the hand on the back of your head coming to trace its knuckles along your jaw, rubbing affectionately against your warm cheeks.
Tears welled in your eyes at the apology, not because she meant it-- but because you knew how much of a fool you were being right now.
"...It- Just--" You wiped away your tears, grabbing Agatha's shoulders and crashing your lips against hers in an upset, messy kiss. She hummed against you, hand coming from your jaw to the small of your back, her other hand holding the nape of your neck so she could dip you lower. You felt her tongue forcing its way into your mouth, and you let it happen. The tears fell down your hot cheeks as she huffed and moaned quietly into your mouth. You let her take control. You always let her have control. With a whine that managed to squeeze from your throat, you wrapped your arms around her, fingers interlocked on the small of her back as she pulled you back to your seated position. The fire in your belly was stoked by the look she gave you, lipstick smudged and lips swollen as her hooded gaze caught on your sad eyes. "So you forgive me?" She teased, licking the excess saliva from her lower lip and raising a brow. You didn't reply, simply spreading your legs slightly and leaning back. With a little huff, you looked away, gaze falling to the floor-- feeling your entire body begin to heat up when those strong hands spread your legs wider, pushing your pencil skirt up over your thighs and revealing your panties. "Playing pouty, are you? I'll make you talk, angel." She hummed, one hand keeping the thigh that she wasn't leaning against open, while her other one came to brush her knuckles over your growing wetness. Embarrassment creeped up your neck and reddened your face even further as you whined and keened under her knowing hands. Her gaze flitted up to meet your reddened features,"Something wrong?" She wondered, the pads of her fingers pressing against your clothed clit, its sensitive and puffy state making your entire body stiffen and jolt at the touch.
"Please..." You gasped, thighs attempting to close around her hand but failing to do so. Her grip was iron clad on your thigh and you didn't mind one bit. "Please, who?" She purred, leaning in and pressing her chest to yours as you shied away from meeting her burning eyes.
Agatha didn't like that. Her hand flew up to grip your throat, squeezing firmly and getting your attention instantaneously. Your eyes widened and snapped to hers, fear prcikling up your spine-- pleasure following soon after.
You liked being handled roughly, but this was the first time Agatha had ever been this aggressive...though you couldn't say you disliked it.
"Please, who?" She asked again, the edge in her voice bordering on a growl as she squeezed ever harder. Your vision began to fuzz at the edges as she leaned in, her hot breath puffing against your face. Her other hand was still pressing firm against your clit, occasionally moving in a tight circle.
You keened at the feeling, back arching and pushing you further into her presence. Your gaze held hers, your voice croaky and trembling as you spoke.
"You-- fuh-- You, Mistress." You managed, whimpering when her fingers tightened, before loosening enough for oxygen to flood back into your body. You gasped for breath, ashamed when you felt yourself dripping. "God, look at you...such a little slut for everything I give you. You say you want to be treated better-- but look at the mess you make when I give you what you say you don't want?"
She hooked her fingers around your underwear, opting to pull them to the side instead of taking them off. Her other hand returned to your thigh, bottom lip pulling between her teeth as she revelled in the glistening cunt she knew belonged to her.
"Ag-- Mistress- please please...want you..." You mewled between pants and whines, trying to buck your hips up to meet her fingers. Agatha, ever the tease, pulled her hand back.
"You will take what I give you." She warned, eyes flashing with anger.
You whimpered, hips stilling almost immediately. "Yes, Mistress. I- I'm sorry..." Your response was automatic, pitifully so.
A satisfied smirk settled on Agatha's face at your response, chuckling as she gathered your slick onto her fingers. Holding it up to you, you felt your body flash with shame and embarrassment for the third time this evening.
"Eat." She commanded, and you immediately leaned forward, taking her dripping digits into your mouth with fervour. Agatha watched, satisfaction painted across her face as you lapped at her fingers, sucking them dry as if it wasn't your own mess. Anything to please her.
"Good girl." There it was, that scrap of praise you always longed for. You keened again, back arching as pleasure rolled up your spine and through your core, toes curling in your flats as you stared up at her with big eyes.
She tore her fingers away, the hand on your thigh coming up to wrap around your middle and pull you close as she thrust two fingers into your wanting hole.
"Miss--tress-!" You choked out, your voice breaking and your head falling against her shoulder as you felt her start up a relentlessly brutal pace.
"I'm sorry, baby..." She rasped between thrusts, her arm working in hard, heavy pumps as she pulled you against her, embracing you as she fucked you. "Fuhh-- Mmms'okay...." You gasped out between cries and moans of ecstasy filled pleasure. Agatha seemed to like this response, working a third finger into your leaking cunt. She groaned when she felt your walls fluttering around her hand, every possessive bone in her body flaring up when she heard your voice going breathy.
"Do you forgive me?" She asked, knowing you were in no position to be handing out forgiveness. She was manipulating you right here and now, but you couldn't find it in you to care. "Aggie..." You cried, drool pooling on her expensive blazer as she slammed her fingers into you, palm brushing your clit with every ministration. You felt your mind going blank and your body felt fuzzy and hot...you were going to cum, and she wouldn't let you unless you forgave her.
"I wouldn't want to ruin your orgasm..." She mused, the threat clear on her tongue. You whimpered in response whining and shaking your head. "N-No! Nonono...no, Aggie please please...lemme cum.." You whimpered and grabbed Agatha's wrist, squeezing your eyes shut. "Well, do you forgive me, y/n?" She asked, speeding up her thrusts and chuckling when your other hand dug into her back, nails scratching at the wool of her coat. You growled in frustration, forcing the words to form in your mind.
"Ohh-- fuh...nmmYES! Yes yes yes, yeah I- Oh fuck! I forgive you, ju-just please let me cum! Please!" You babbled, thighs twitching and snapping shut around Agatha's hand as she latched onto your neck, your orgasm crashing into you at the possessive gesture.
Your entire body went stiff and numb, pleasure pumping through your overworked veins as you struggled against Agatha's form, her hand still working you through your orgasm. The pleasure slowly passed, your body spasming and jumping with every brush of your boss's palm against your clit. "Mm-Aggie...'nuff.." You mumbled, weakly pushing her hand away and whining when she only slowed down. She continued to fuck you until your thighs were coated with your own slick, your body slumped against Agatha as you took whatever she gave you.
"I'm so glad we could come to an agreement." She purred, finally detaching from your neck. You were sure it was going to be the biggest, angriest bruise you had ever seen by the throbbing pain in your neck.
Your body stiffened at the comment, and you managed to lean back and glare at her with disapproval. "That wasn't a proper apology, Agatha. You know it." Agatha only smiled, pulling her fingers from you and wiping them off on her blazer, the sticky sheen glinting in the fluorescent light. "I guess I'll just have to keep apologising."
You furrowed your brows at her, hating the way you could feel the heat in your core rising again.
--
no happy ending sorry guys </3 hope you enjoyed! love, rhubarb <3!!
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strnilolover · 12 hours ago
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vampire!matt accidentally breaks human!readers bed
you were in pure and utter bliss. normally matt wouldn’t go this fast—to afraid to hurt you—but not tonight.
your back was flush against your mattress, matt above you as his cock pistons into your sopping pussy. your hands grabbing his shoulders as your nails dig into his skin. one hand holding your hip as his other grabs the headboard—knuckles turning white from his grip.
“ha—fuck, y’feel so good baby. fucking amazing.” he grunts into your ear, head dipping lower to press his lips to your neck—teeth poking out, nipping the flesh. “such—ngh—such a good girl f’me, yeah?”
your head nods rapidly, gasping as your back bowed off the sheets—his cock hitting every spot inside your gummy walls. “words, love. wanna hear you say it.” he moans against your skin before leaning up. his pupils blown wide, the dark irises staring down at you.
“mm—m’your—ohmyfuckinggod!” you screech, your words cut short as he angled his hips just right. a choked sob leaving your lips as tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. it felt so good. matt just chuckled, sitting up as the hand on your hip holds you off the mattress.
his hips never stopped—incoherent babbles and skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. matt groaned as your walls clenched around him, his hand on the headboard gripping the wood frame tighter. suddenly a loud *snap* resonated, the bed falling beneath your bodies.
you gasped, as your body dipped—your attention being dragged away from the pleasure. but matt leaned back on top of you, hand leaving your hip to grip your face. “shh, love. focus on me yeah? worry ‘bout that later—shit.” his words pulling your focus back onto him.
you moaned in response—stomach pulling tight as you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching.
he’s definitely going to buy you a new bed later. but right now? it felt too good to stop.
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missdynamighttt · 1 day ago
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↳ ❝ THERE'S NO ONE LIKE YOU, SWEETS. ❞
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ synopsis: in which, you make what feels like the worst decision of your life—getting into a hot tub with your fake boyfriend, katsuki bakugou.
starring: fake boyfriend! katsuki bakugou x oblivious! reader ⍣ ೋ
disclaimers!: fake established relationship, prefers ass, humping/ grinding, a little degradation, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), sexual stuff in water
note: pro hero! katsuki drabble, usage of "woman", "sweets" "baby", "slut", fem reader, fake relationship trope, inspired by to all the boys ive loved before hot tub/ jacuzzi scene. I KNOW I HAVE A POLL, I PROMISE ILL GET TO THAT, JUST NEEDED TO GET THIS OFF OF MY CHEST💜💜
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╰┈➤ ❝ [this is so stupid...] ❞ you mumble, walking down the hallway to the pool area, your arms crossed as the cold winter breeze hits your skin.
somehow, kirishima talked you into confronting your 'boyfriend', katsuki bakugou, after he started ignoring you in the class 1A ski-trip/christmas party this year.
"c'mon, girl, hes probably waiting for you in the hot tub 'nyway. get in there, and get him!"
it was only supposed to be a fake arrangement between you two. to be honest, you're not even sure why hes mad. but he was.
the hand-holding, hugs and kisses started to feel too real, the closeness felt too intimate. it was all getting in your head so you distanced yourself from him, sitting next to ochako in the bus instead of katsuki.
katsuki needed to get his ranks up in the charts and you needed publicity. that was all there was to it. supposed to be, anyway.
you reach the pool area and thats when you see him. katsuki bakugo. in the hot tub. shirtless. and in swimming trunks. he's lounging with his eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed, letting the heat and jets of the tub ease his muscles.
you catch your bottom lip between your teeth. you draw closer to the hot tub, perching yourself on the ledge across from katsuki, not getting in the water because you had a night gown on. for now.
though his eyes are closed, a slight shift in his demeanor reveals that he's aware of your presence. even in his attempt to maintain a façade of calm, the subtle tension in his shoulders and the tightening of his jaw betray his awareness of you.
"katsuki?" you tilt your head, trying to get his attention.
when he doesn't respond, you scoff, crossing your arms.
"wow, katsuki, real mature."
his eyebrow twitches at the comment on his maturity, his eyes flutter open. he looks at you with an unimpressed stare, his expression a mix of annoyance and... something else.
"oh, because you're a real shinin' example of maturity," he retorts, his voice tinged with sarcasm.
you frown at him. "seriously, why are you mad at me? and don't go yappin' about how you're not mad, i can tell."
"why do you think?" he grumbles, unable to meet your eyes as his cheeks tinged pink.
"...you've been hangin' around with round cheeks all fuckin' day."
that was all he was mad about? is he.. no. he couldn't be jealous. he had no reason to.
"that... that shouldn't matter."
"well, it does matter, goddamn it," he mutters angrily as his scowl deepens, his jaw clenching in frustration.
"you don't get it, do you? you're my girlfriend, you were supposed to sit with me."
"fake girlfriend-"
"i don't give a flyin' fuck. you're still my girlfriend, woman, fake or not. i expected you to sit with me. and instead, what do i see? you hangin' out with fuckin..."
he lets out an exasperated sigh, raking a hand through his wet hair. he looks like he's trying to find the right words to express his feelings without coming across as too jealous or vulnerable.
"fuck. fuck, i'm... i'm not tryna control you, okay? but it bugs the shit out of me. it bugs me that you were hanging with round face. it bugs me that you sat next to her instead of me."
katsuki's gaze softens at your quiet, conflicted expression. he sighs again, his eyes briefly darting away from you before he continues.
"i... i even brought your damn favorite snacks in case you got hungry," he mutters, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "i thought, we could have sat together and, you know..."
you look up at him, a hint of surprise widening your eyes. you contemplate how to continue, trying to lighten the mood with a soft smile. "do you... still have some left over?"
katsuki scoffs at the attempt to change the mood, but can't help the brief spark of amusement that flickers in his eyes.
"no, obviously," he replies with a roll of his eyes. "i ate some and gave kirishima the rest after you decided to ditch me."
"rude."
"damn right, it was rude. tch, ditchin' me like that."
you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head, looking at him with a soft gaze. "i'm.. i'm sorry i didn't sit next to you."
katsuki's ears turned slightly pink as he hears your apology. he glances at you hesitantly before looking away again, trying to maintain his aloof demeanor.
"yeah, well, apology accepted, i guess," he mutters, his voice lacking its usual sharpness.
you nod, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. after a brief moment of silence, you gather your courage and shed your nightgown, revealing your bare skin as you slowly step into the warm embrace of the hot tub.
katsuki's eyes widen as you stripped, his heart rate speeding up at the sight of you in just a pair of black bra and panties. his eyes roam over your body greedily, taking in every curve and contour.
he clears his throat, his gaze is fixed on your figure as you step into the hot tub, the warm water enveloping you. he tries to keep his thoughts in check, but the sight of you like this, almost naked, is making it incredibly hard (like his dick).
"damn..." he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "what are you doing to me, sweets?"
you look at him with eyebrows raised, a soft smile formed on your lips. "hm?"
he takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. the water laps around you two, creating a sense of intimacy, and it only adds to the tension.
"seriously, do you have to look like that right now?"
"like what?"
"like... that," his voice is hoarse, gesturing vaguely at your form. "like you're tryna drive me crazy."
katsuki reaches out, his hand hovering just above your torso before finally making contact, his fingers gently carressing the curve of your waist. his hand felt so warm, almost competing with the heat in his eyes now mixed with his raw desire for you.
"damn it, woman. you're killin' me here..."
"can i apologize for that too?"
"i'll forgive you... under one condition," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. his hand slowly roams over your bare skin, exploring your body with a newfound confidence.
he pulls you closer, the water sloshing around you as he guides you onto his lap. his arms encircle your waist firmly, every contour and dip of your bodies fitting perfectly against each other. the corners of his mouth tug to a grin."sit here for me."
your eyes widen in surprise as you feel a rush of heat across your cheeks. you could feel his hot, raging boner, pressing up against your cunt through the thin, pathetic fabric you call panties.
a cheeky grin spreads across your face. "katsuki, is that...?"
he groans, his voice low and gruff with frustrated desire. "just shut the fuck up, sweets."
his hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you nearer, his lips crashing against yours in a heated, hungry kiss. his tongue dances with yours, greedy and demanding.
the kiss was intense, filled with pent-up longing and need and so much words both of you couldn't say.
he keeps you trapped against his body with his arms in the hot tub, his touch both tender and possessive.
"such a nice fuckin' ass.." he whispers, groping and massaging your doughy ass before pulling you back in for a deeper kiss.
your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair as you grind on his hard-on, a little embarassed as you feel your panties dampen more from the water and your slick but can't help but want him. need him.
"fuck," he groans, feeling his cock get so painfully hard just from you humping him. "you little.."
your breath hitches when you felt his hand slide down your inner thigh, tugging the pathetic g-string to the side. he enters a finger inside of you, seperating your folds, feeling your warm pussy and your wet slick in the midst of the water. "k-katsuki-"
"aww, this all for me, sweets?" he coos, watching you whimper as he rubs your aching clit.
you pout as you grind against his hand, desperate for friction. your teeth sink into your lip as he put a second finger, your eyes glistening with a mixture of desire and greed. "so what if it is..?"
"that fucking eager for me, huh?" he chuckles darkly, his fingers enveloped by the warmth of your pussy as he curls them inside of you. "gonna take it all for me, yeah?"
you nodded, clinging onto him like a lifeline, whimpering and mewling choked versions of his name. "fuck, fuck.. kat- katsu.. katsuki..."
katsuki groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his hand your hips grip you tighter, pulling you closer, while curling his thick digits against your sensitive spots, the sound of your lewd noises music to his ears.
"see my fingers fuckin' you, baby?" he mutters, his lips find your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your tender skin. "only i can make your pretty pussy feel this good, yeah?"
"mhm," you manage. despite the embarrassment, you can't help but give in to the heat building between you.
his eyes lock onto yours, his voice sultry and mean. "you know, you're such a fuckin' slut. lettin' me finger you like this where anyone can see us."
a loud moan escapes your lips as your pussy clenches around his fingers at the name. you couldn't help it. fuck, he was so, so mean. and you fucking loved it.
a cocky grin spreads across his face, letting out a low chuckle. "oh? you like it when i call you a slut?" he taunts, bringing a grin to his face at your reaction. "can't believe you're into that shit, sweets."
"it's your fault- fuck.."
"oh? blamin' me now?" he taunts, a cocky expression on his face. "thought you were more.. mature than that."
katsuki flaps his fingers faster inside of you, abandoning the slow, careful pace of curling he did earlier. your slick and the hot tub water moistens his fingers, yet you can still smell the faint hit of your cunt.
"katsukiii! fuck, fuck, fuck. too much, too much..."
"just look at you, sweets. takin' my fingers like a champ, such a good fuckin' girl," he coos, his filthy praises making your pussy clench around his fingers.
"bet you wanted this as much as i did, did you?"
"n-no-"
"bullshit. if you don't, tell me to stop right now."
"sh-shit, no.. don't stop, please.. please, i need you.."
"that's what i thought," his grin widens, his hand that had been resting on your hip moves lower, tapping your leg gently. "lift your hips up for me."
with a nod, you comply, the water rippling around you as it drips out of your legs, katsuki finally seeing your sweet little cunt without the transluscent filter of the water. his grip on your thigh tightens slightly, letting out a shaky exhale as he rubs your clit.
"you close, sweets?" he glances up at you, his eyes meeting yours, feeling you nod before he leans in for a long, lingering kiss.
"cum on my face, 'kay?" he utters softly after pulling away, leaning down on your sweet cunt before lapping his tongue away at your aching slit while still pumping his fingers full of you.
his tongue felt so good. he felt so good, it hurts. all you could smell was the intoxicating scent of your cunt and katsuki's saliva sloshed together.
"katsuki..." you can't help but let out a lewd mewl, whimpering as wave after wave of pleasure courses through your body.
"there's no one like you, sweets," katsuki groans into your pussy, the loud sounds he was making as he ate you out while he fucked his fingers into you was just so lewd. when it felt so good. when anyone could catch you doing this. "cum on my face, baby, c'mon.."
you shudder from the pleasure from his touch as you feel your release, chest heaving up and down as you catch your breath. though, his tongue kept flicking at your clit, pumping his fingers in and out of you as you ride your high.
your post-nut clarity kicks in. fuck, you just.. let katsuki bakugo, your fake boyfriend, not only finger you but you let him eat you out. it doesn't matter you were into him. he was still your fake boyfriend.
and not just anywhere, no. but in the damn hot tub. where anyone could've seen you. the worst part? you enjoyed it to your core.
before you can think loudly again, you feel his lips brush gently against your cheek. you turn to look at him, a little surprised at the sudden show of tenderness after the heated moment as your eyes meet. you take in the disheveled sight of him, his hair damp and wet as he catches his breath, your mind still trying to catch up to the events of tonight.
"sweets... my room. now. please."
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should i do part 2 guys lmaolmao hope you enjoyed 💜💜
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kooqitas · 2 days ago
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♡ [18+ mdni]!! # loss of virginity, rival to lovers (?).
you weren't surprised when seungcheol brutally threw you onto his bed. i mean, you spent the last few weeks fighting for any stupid reason that appeared. it was obvious that every unfounded hatred had something behind it. he kissed your neck in an uncontrolled way, biting and sucking the sensitive flesh as if he wanted to mark you. you spent most of the makeout in silence, knowing that if you opened your mouths it would only be to tease the other. it was a little pathetic, yes, but it was hot, and seungcheol was hot. fuck, you choked when you saw him take off his shirt, his strong arms completely exposed to you, the silver chain hitting your face. he laughed before grunting and kissing you again, pulling down his pants in a somewhat clumsy way. you just did the same, pulling your dress quickly and getting rid of your panties as soon as you saw him get rid of his underwear. okay, fuck, that was fucking big! you saw seungcheol grab a condom from the drawer, and you avoided thinking about how normal it seemed to him, and then he put it on, going with his glande in your cunt. the sudden act scared you, enough for you to stutter. "c-cheol!" you called him, receiving a look from man. "can you… take it easy? i… i'm a virgin." cheol's mouth opened in a perfect 'o', at that moment he removed his member from inside you, and at the same moment you protested, asking him to go back, just be… calm. "fuck, why didn't you tell me this before?" "you would give up…" "what? of course not, i just…" he shook his head, showing was better than telling. he removed the condom, but didn't get off your body, his hard cock was now touching your groin, while he sucked on the tip of your tits, the light bites on the hard nipple making you moan a little louder than expected, seungcheol lifted his head sometimes just to see you with your eyes closed while moaning, he went down kissing your belly, the wet kisses making your skin tingle. and seungcheol always checked on you, letting out a few laughs when their eyes met. "open" he said kissing your thigh, and you trembled, obeying. fuck, you'd never felt anything like that, the way his tongue went through every part of your cunt, the way he seemed to want to devour you. your moans and contortions becoming greater as he inserted one finger, and then another, and another... he kept 3 fingers inside you, and you clung against the sheets, wetting his hand. "cheol~" you groaned, as a request. and he laughed. you rolled your eyes. but the next second he took another condom, opened a tube of lubricant and poured it into it, there was not so much need, you were lubricated and the condom already had some lube, but he was worried. and then he entered, slowly, feeling you relax on his cock. 'so hot!' he moaned in your ear as he started to thrust, you couldn't even think. "you look so much prettier like this, under me, moaning" cheol was slow in his movements, yet precise, and you thought you were gonna die when his thumb went to your clit, making a pressure there that made you cum. "hold on a little, please" he basically begged, waiting for your nod to re-thrust, shit, you were so sensitive after cumming, your sly moans were making him crazy. he squeezed your left nipple and the loud moan you gave made cheol cum in the condom...
''damn... that was... fuck" he said, lying on your side after removing the condom. "who knew our academic rivalry would end... like this" you teased. "i was able to cum inside you then... i kind of won this game like hell," he laughs. "you only say that because you took my virginity, in fact, if you tell someone that, i'll kill you" "tell someone? damn, never! you're mine, i'll never tell anyone what happened here." "i am what?" "that's right. shhhhhh." he kissed you before you could say anything. "you need to pee" you stared at him confused. "something about needing to pee after sex, don't ask me, i don't know very well either, i saw it on tiktok" you laughed, getting up and going to pee, even if you didn't feel like it. when you went back to bed, you ended up in a silent agreement to sleep there, and that's how you fell asleep nestled in seungcheol's arms.
and that's also how you ended up having your first morning sex.
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meazalykov · 9 hours ago
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livestream
jule brand x gamer!reader
summary: a mistake will force the both of you to admit something.
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the familiar hum of your dual monitors fills the room as you settle into your gaming chair, adjusting your headset and taking a sip of water. 
your fingers tap against the desk rhythmically, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling inside you as the stream countdown ends. the chat is already alive, scrolling at a speed that’s hard to keep up with. you catch glimpses of messages—“hi y/n!”  “top streamer is back (kai wishes)”—and giggle to yourself. 
your audience is loyal, supportive, and somehow manages to make you feel connected even though you’ve been living halfway across the world from your home country of the united states for almost a year now.  
“hey, everyone!” you greet, voice warm and cheerful. you lean forward, adjusting the mic closer to your mouth. 
“how’s it going? what’s everyone been up to today?”  
a flurry of replies fills the screen. some talk about work or school, others ask what game you’ll be playing, and a few just spam emotes in excitement.  
“okay, okay,” you say with a laugh, waving a hand at the camera as if to calm them down. 
“before we jump into a game, let me give you a quick rundown of my day since some people in the chat are asking. it’s been a busy one, not gonna lie.”  
someone gifts you a sub, the notification popping up on the screen. you grin, glancing at the message: 
“how was your day, y/n?”
“see! my day? it was good!” you say, leaning back in your chair. 
“a little hectic, though. i went out for breakfast this morning at this cute little café downtown in wolfsburg—you know the one i mentioned last week? their cappuccinos are insane. afterwards i had to run around and grab some last-minute christmas gifts for my family back in the states. classic procrastination on my part.”  
you laugh softly, pausing briefly as you think about the rest of your day. you’re so comfortable, so used to chatting openly with your audience, that the words come out without much thought. 
“then, my girlfriend jul—”  
you freeze. your heart skips a beat as the realization hits you like a ton of bricks.  
“uh, i mean, my friend jule and i went out for lunch before her training session,” you say quickly, stumbling over the words as you try to backtrack. but it’s too late.  
the chat explodes.  
“DID SHE JUST SAY GIRLFRIEND???”  
“WAIT WAIT WAIT.”  
“i KNEW IT WAS JULE.”  
“not lynn wilms????”  
you can feel your face heat up as you glance at the chat. it’s moving so fast that you can barely make out individual messages, but the general vibe is clear: they caught your slip-up, and there’s no taking it back.  
“uh…” you laugh nervously, running a hand through your hair. “i… yeah, i fucked up, didn’t i? shit the stream hasn’t even really started yet ha ha” you mumble, more to yourself than to the chat, but of course, they hear it.  
the chat continues to erupt with a mix of excitement, shock, and jokes. some viewers are celebrating, others are teasing you, and a few are still trying to piece everything together.  
“okay, okay, calm down, everyone!” you say, holding up your hands as if that could somehow stop the chaos. “look, i think that’s enough excitement for one stream. i’m gonna go, even though i just got on, before i dig myself into an even deeper hole. i’ll see you all tomorrow, okay? have a good night!”  
with a click, you end the stream, the screen going black as you sit back in your chair with a heavy sigh.  
“oh my god,” you mutter, covering your face with your hands. your phone buzzes on the desk, and you already know who it’s from.  
sure enough, it’s lynn. 
lynn: I watched the stream. uh oh..
you groan, typing back quickly: yeah… i think i just outed me and jule to the entire internet.  
your phone buzzes again almost immediately, but this time it’s not a text. it’s jule calling. your stomach flips as you stare at her name on the screen, hesitating for a moment before answering.  
“hey…” you say cautiously, your voice small.  
“so… did you do what i think you did?” jule asks, her tone calm but with a hint of curiosity.  
“i’m so sorry,” you blurt out, the words tumbling out in a rush. 
“it just slipped out! i was talking about my day, and i wasn’t thinking, and then—”  
“y/n,” jule interrupts, her voice steady. 
“breathe. it’s okay.”  
“but we agreed to keep it private for at least a year, and now—”  
“y/n,” she says again, a little more firmly this time.
 “it’s okay. i know you didn’t mean to. honestly, people were going to figure it out eventually.”  
you fall silent, guilt still gnawing at you. 
“are you sure you’re not mad? because i feel awful, jule. like, seriously awful.”  
“i’m not mad,” she reassures you, her voice softening. 
“i promise. if anything, it’s kind of funny. you tried so hard to cover it up, but your chat is way too smart for that.”  
you let out a small, reluctant laugh. 
“yeah, they’re too smart for their own good but still, i feel like i messed up.”  
“you didn’t,” she says firmly. 
“it’s fine. really. now stop beating yourself up about it, okay?”  
“okay,” you mumble, though the guilt still lingers.  
the week that follows is a blur. the initial frenzy around your slip-up starts to die down, but the topic still pops up in your community and on social media. jule keeps things normal between you two, never bringing it up unless you do, which helps ease some of your worry. 
still, you can’t shake the feeling that you let her down.  
then, one afternoon, your phone buzzes with a notification from jule’s instagram story. curious, you open it, and your heart skips a beat.  
there, on her story, is a picture of you two from a few weeks ago. 
(pretend this is jule and you of course)
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your jaw drops as you stare at the post, reading and rereading the words.  
quickly calling jule, your voice a mix of shock and amusement. 
“you really just hard-launched us like that?”  
“well, people already knew, didn’t they?” she teases. 
“might as well...”  
the taller blond gets cut off as you laugh, the sound finally free of the guilt that’s been weighing you down all week. 
“you’re amazing, you know that?”  
“i do,” she says, her tone playful. 
“and so are you. now, can we move on from this?”  
“yeah,” you say, and this time, you mean it.  
masterlist
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ryuzakemo128 · 2 days ago
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MDNI 18+ Omegaverse Part 2
Part One
Note: Big things happens in this continuation.
word count: 1542
Ghost still remembered how you were standing on top of the building when you shot the tracking bullet into his shoulder. You didn’t aim to kill, maim? Sure. You don’t take lives. You just run from others and keep them tagged for as long as possible to know where they would be. You didn’t care if they were special operatives or the Queen of fucking England. No one had the right to have you or own you. Ever. 
“I still remember how Price thought you were seeing things.” Soap snickered, “I still can’t believe it.”
“Well, whatever it is, just produced a strong smell of vinegar and my nose is hurting.” Gaz complained, whined, even. Your makeshift solution is working to your advantage. Even if it's drowning your dirty, grimy baggy clothes under hot water and white vinegar. They’ll end up trying again quite soon.
As you got changed into clean clothes, your naked body came into the view of the door window. Which to Soap? It was like he hit the fucking jackpot. Watching you pull on medical scrubs. Soap saw your back tattoo, “The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labour lies.”
Soap yanked Price over to take a look at your tattoo. His hunch told him something, you weren’t just anyone, and you weren’t just a random omega the General wanted to contain. “I don’t think we know nearly as much about her as we think we do.” Soap told him, dragging him to the window and shoving the binoculars into Price’s hands. 
Gaz remembered your herbal cigarettes, the lavender burning and how Price would try to scold you for your habit. “And what? Leave you smoked up like a bastard in heat or somethin?” you told Price. Breathing lavender scented smoke into Price’s facial direction. Dodging his attempts to snatch the cigarette from you.
Price, at the time, growled, “What is with you? You’re slipperier than a greased-up pig at a county fair, and more elusive than the fucking Loch Ness monster.” The spunk you had before? Increased tenfold. 
“Look at you, tripping over yourselves still, fucking alphas who can’t track for shit huh?” you taunted with your walkie-talkie you found in the office. “Round And Round It Goes... Where It Stops, Nobody Knows. Round and round you go, when will I stop? Nobody knows.” 
You grabbed your stuff, and you left really fast, “Tell your mother I’ll fuck her soon.” you spoke into the walkie-talkie. 
“We’ve got to get to her before she’s gone. She’s a fucking ghost, we’ve been tracking her for months, and she’s always one step ahead of us. This might be our only chance before she disappears again.” Price told them. Soap was too distracted by the fact you flash banged him with your gorgeous fucking tits. 
Which Price had to admit? A smart thing to do when you’re dealing with four hungry, aroused alphas on your tail. Your tits were a flash beacon even after you headed out of the room with your gear. The limping of your leg and once soap has you in his grasp again? He wouldn’t let you go again. 
Crawling through the ventilator shaft, until you were dragged out by your feet by someone strong enough to get you out of there, and his deep voice hitting the base of your skull like a drum. 
Dragging you from the vent, one swift tug at a time. Before long, you were carried over to Price and Ghost. With Gaz stalking right behind him, intensely staring at you from behind Soap. He had you draped over his right shoulder and your belongings in his other hand. While Gaz carried your sniper and bone knife. 
Once Price taken a closer look at you, removing your shirt and replacing it with a clean, warm, dry shirt. As Price looked for one suitable. 
Soap’s eyes widened as he recognised the tattoo. He’s seen it once before. It’s an incredibly specific tattoo. Only one person he knew of had it. Someone who was thought to be dead. Yet here you were. Very much…..alive. Running around like a scared rabbit. Soap’s heart is racing. 
He knew you weren’t going to go with them quietly. Not with that tattoo.
“Guys, I think we might have stumbled upon someone important, she’s not what we thought she was.” Soap whispered to Ghost outside the medical examination room. 
Ghost looked at Soap sceptically, “What do you mean, Mactavish?”
Soap took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm, “The tattoo on her back. It’s not from a book, it’s from a person. The person who had it is... or was... a legend around these parts.” He paused, his eyes searching the room as if he could see through the walls. “Her callsign was Venom, one of the best snipers the military had, until she disappeared. She was thought to be dead after her last mission, but if this is her... she’s been hiding here all along.”
Price’s eyes narrowed as he digested the information. “Venom? That’s a name I’ve heard before. If she’s who you think she is, then she’s worth more than gold to Shepherd. We can’t let her go.” He turned to Gaz, his voice low and commanding. “Keep an eye on the exits, she’s clever. We don’t want her slipping away again.”
Still processing the information, his gaze sharp and calculating. “If that’s true, then we might have a bigger problem on our hands. Get a clearer visual, Soap, and make sure it’s her. We don’t want to spook her before we get a good look at her face and confirm her identity.”
Soap nodded, his eyes glued to the small window in the door of the medical examination room. “On it, boss.” He whispered back, his heart racing with excitement and a hint of fear. Venom was a legend, known for her sharp-shooting skills and unyielding spirit. If she had indeed survived, she would be a powerful ally or a formidable enemy.
Then she would be you, wouldn’t you? When he saw your face? Soap held the new photo with the one they have. They were a perfect match. You were indeed ‘Venom’. A legend from their annals of history straight into his sight. 
He felt his cock thicken, a growling in his chest, his animalistic instincts were now coming to the forefront.
“It’s her, boss. No doubt about it. She’s Venom. I’ve seen that tattoo before, on the back of the woman who trained me.” Soap said with a mix of awe and fear. “I don’t think anyone is crazy enough to be out here for this long. 
Price's eyebrows furrowed, “Venom… I thought she was dead. General Shepherd killed her.”
“So did everyone else,” Soap replied, “But she's very much alive, and she's in heat. We need to handle this with care. She's not going to come quietly. Or willingly for that matter.”
Price nodded in understanding, his mind racing with the implications of this revelation.“Alright, keep an eye on her. She's a ghost for a reason.” He turned to Ghost, “What do we know about her other than that she's a damn good shot?”
Ghost's eyes narrowed as he recalled the intel he had read, “Venom went dark after her last mission. Rumour has it she took out a high-value target that was off-limits. Her disappearance was sudden, and her file was sealed tighter than a drum. If she's the one in there, she's got a vendetta with someone or something, and it's not us.”
“But she's in heat,” Gaz pointed out, his voice thick with the same primal need Soap had felt earlier. “That….. That changes things completely.”
Ghost nodded, his voice a low rumble, “It does. She'll be more… vulnerable. Hesitant to trust.”
“Vulnerable or not,” Soap said, “We can't just barge in there. We need to earn her trust”
“But how? She’s not going to listen, and she’s stubborn like Price.” Gaz said, stroking his jaw, contemplating their next move.
“You’ve been out here the entire time?” Price asked you, both in awe, frustration and a little admiration in his tone. “You’ve been living out here alone all this time?”
“You make it sound far harder than it actually is. Did General Shepherd let you think that, or are you really that stupid enough to think it?” you answered. “With the right kind of knowledge, you can go far and wide. Took out the tracker from my neck, day one, surprised you pups are still working for that bitch.” 
General Shepherd. You were at odds with him from the sound of things. Whether that was a good thing or not? Another thing entirely. Another thing which now had to wait until they had you removed from this ancient building. Regardless of whether you wanted to leave it or not.
“So are you workin for him or what?” you growled. 
“That’s none of your fucken business.” Price snarled at you.
“I think it is and you’re going to tell me regardless of what you think or how you feel about it too.”
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starlightsuffered · 3 days ago
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My Girl
A/N - wrote this bc I’m cold and I miss the sun also I had a dream about it
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Info - fingering, friends to lovers, pda, a little sex, getting caught in heavy make out, tasting pussy juice, finger sucking
I popped a cherry into my mouth and noted how Timothée looked at my lips. The air was thick, though humidity was low. My ponytail brushed my shoulder as I turned to grab another piece of fruit.
I felt a tentative hand on my bare ankle. I pretended I didn’t notice. His thumb moved slowly over my skin.
Since winter, things had been very different. Timothée and I had been friends forever, but in December he’d become single again. On new years, he’d decided that we would kiss to usher it in. At that moment, everything had changed.
His moustache was gone, and his hair was now fluffy and tousled like it used to be. He’d been home spending time with his niece for a while. He hadn’t taken a new project for a while and I wished desperately that even a little of it was for me.
We’d reconnected in a heavy way. We spent days and nights together. He seemed to always be inviting me over. We shared bottles of wine and late night confessions. The alcohol always had us falling over each other with giggles. Then we’d take a moment and stare into the others eyes. Our friendship wore thin as one of us would inevitably push a lock of their out of the others face.
That was how we had lived for months. We’d walked that edge of the precipice so many times. I wondered if we were both waiting on the other to make the final move. I wondered if he’d find me less desirable if I broke first. I wondered what was taking so damn long.
“Would you rather,” he mused, picking up the game again.
We were having a picnic in the park. I wore a new sundress that he had barely removed his eyes from the entire afternoon. He was in jeans and over sized t-shirt. The sun had finally begun to warm New York City and he’d eagerly called me, begging for a picnic lunch in the fresh air.
“Kiss someone, or hug someone?”
“It depends,” I said, tilting my head to the side.
“Oh?” He asked as his fingers drummed on my leg. I wanted to pounce on him.
“Hugs are almost always good, kisses are only good with some people,” I shrugged. I threw a blackberry in my mouth now.
“Yeah?” He asked.
“What makes someone the right person?” Timothée asked in a dangerous voice. I gulped and looked up to meet his gaze.
“Someone who is kind, sexy, matches your energy, knows you well, cares for you the correct way…” I trailed off. I felt a burning between my legs even though this was just a conversation about kissing. He always launched me into neediness so easily.
“And am I-“ he sucked in a deep breath. If he was breathing harder, I wasn’t breathing at all. He was preparing, I could tell. He was closer to that precipice than he’d ever been. He was going to jump.
“Am I the right sort of person?” He whispered.
I leaned back on my elbows. Ever so slightly, I spread my legs. His grip became tighter on my ankle. His eyes darkened and he watched me as if I were stripping instead of leaning back casually.
“Yes,” was all I breathed.
He lurched forward, a desperate hunger in his eyes. My back hit our fuzzy blanket. His mouth was glued to mine. His large hands held my face. I was hot all over as our tongues danced together. I couldn’t have cared less who would see us.
His hand moved to my thigh and went up, lifting up my dress. I gasped into his mouth.
“I love you, fuck I love you, I’ve wanted this so long,” he heaved, he was panting as he grabbed at every bit of my skin. My leg wrapped around him. I pressed myself into the feeling of him, memorising it.
“I want you, I need you,” I repeated myself over and over. He mouthed over my neck. His long fingers crawled to my pink panties.
“Shit!” He sucked in a breath when he felt my wetness.
“You’re perfect, I can’t breathe, I don’t want to,” he told me. I was keening and arching as his deft fingers plunged into me. He curled them in my wet heat.
“You’re so pretty in this dress. I can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispered, kissing the hot skin of my clavicle.
I loved how he worshipped and praised me, as if he hadn’t been around a million celebrities. He could see me as less or not be interested at all. Yet, he touched me like one would touch a deity. I was in heaven.
“Mmmmm,” Timothée moaned as he lifted his digits to his mouth. His fingers were so slick. I watched him mesmerized by the beauty.
“Baby, you’ve got to taste yourself. Come on pretty girl, it’s ambrosia,” he coaxed. He looked love sick and hazy. He smiled dreamily as his finger were sucked by my needy mouth.
“Atta girl,” he whispered. He was kissing me again now. My bottom half was almost completely bare. The grass was on my ass and my dress was hitched up around my waist. Timothée’s hands dipped into the cups of my bra. He massaged as he kissed me and kissed me and kissed me.
“What are you two doing,” asked a harsh voice. A park ranger took in our heady gazes and the tent in Timmy’s pants, and the way I was scantily clad.
“Get up!” He snapped gruffly.
Timothée had Trouble moving from his hard on. He was pulling me along desperately. He’d left behind the blanket, the lunch, all in an effort to get to his car.
He whips open the door and pulls me on top of him in almost one movement. Out kisses are sloppy and hot. His hands are up my dress again. I could hardly catch a breath.
“Fuck me, there will be pictures everywhere,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he actually cared that much.
“Fuck that,” I giggled as I nipped at his lip.
“Fuck me,” he moaned, a request.
“Absolutely,” I agreed. I pushed my panties to the side and he pulled out his cock. I sunk down and settled into the place I was meant to be.
“My girl,” he groaned as I began to bounce and he began to thrust.
“My girl forever.”
@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming @lovelyrocker
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ye4gerism · 7 hours ago
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This has been on my mind for a while and I’m kinda surprised no body really wrote about it but could you please do one were reader basically gets into curly’s ass about jimmy but it kinda leads into a lil heated argument you can chose if it ends on a good note also have a good morning, day or night 😊
𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊, 𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐒, 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 - 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
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author’s note sorry for the radio silence. i’ve been suffering from writer’s block. working retail during the holidays will do that to you. anyway, enjoy this ficlet.
You were starting to wake. Through your eyelids, you noticed how the room around you began to brighten up. You let out a groan and turn onto your side before proceeding to tap your hand on the side where Curly normally slept…and yet you felt nothing there. Your eyelids flick open in horror.
Curly's side of the bed was empty. You sit up, frantic. Where was he? You look at his dresser, then yours - no note. You scan the room and there isn't any sign that he's gone.
You scoot off the bed and go downstairs. As you descend, you can hear his voice. You follow it into the kitchen where you finally see him standing there, still in his boxers, one hand on his hip, and the other holding his phone against his ear. He looks frustrated, must be that pony job he always complains about.
Curly acknowledges you with a smile before focusing once again on his conversation. "No, that makes no sense! I already told you I was coming here!"
You walk up behind Curly and lean against his back. Your hands run up his torso, feeling up his pectorals and his abs.
“Alright, Jimmy,” he says.
Of course.
You pull away at the sound of that name. You didn't really like how Jimmy presented himself; there was a strange amount of jealousy from his end and he could just never be happy for others. There was already a mutual dislike for each other but your boyfriend, Curly being Curly, takes his job too seriously and lets it spill into his personal life. He thinks he can H.R. his way into making you and Jimmy friends or, at least, respect each other.
Curly hangs up and turns around to greet you. "Good morning, sweetheart." He lights up with these words, no sign of being bothered by his conversation. You decide not to say anything at first. If anything, you were a little annoyed - if he was going to wake up before you, you'd at least hope he'd go out on a run or maybe surprise you with a sweet treat or flowers. You open the fridge in search of something to eat. Milk, eggs, leftover pomegranate.
"Babe?" Curly's head pokes over the fridge. "I said good morning."
You decide to eat the pomegranate for breakfast. Wouldn't want it to go bad.
"I bet it is. How's your boyfriend?" you ask. Curly's face drops. You close the fridge and take a seat by the island counter.
"Hey, don't walk away from me. What's up with you?" he asks. You shoot him a look, then your eyes move to his phone. Curly eyes follow yours and it hits him once his eyes settle on his phone.
"Please don't start. Not this morning."
"Oh, so you're aware. Perfect!" You place your cut pomegranate back in the bowl. "My question is just why? Why do you give him so much...control?"
"Control? I am my own man, you know. Captain of my own ship." You must have hit a nerve because Curly normally doesn't get defensive like this. Using his title to make him seem better? Not a usual practice of his.
"You deliver shit! People at NASA get to brag about going to space to explore! You don't. So don't let your ego get in the way of me questioning your relationship with your idiot friend."
He was Persephone, Jimmy was Hades, and like Demeter, you only had Curly for the spring and summer.
You both stare intensely at each other for a moment and it was the 'let's just hop in the sheets and fuck it out' intensity. You both were genuinely pissed at each other. 
"I'm going to step out," Curly says breaking the silence. He starts to make his way up the stairs. "Yeah, avoid the question of Jimmy, like you always do!" you yell at him.
"Shut up!" He's halfway up the stairs. Your head cocks back. "Did you tell me to shut up?" He's never spoken to you like that - you're not even sure he's spoken to anyone like that.
Curly realizes what he's just said and is equally as shocked by his own mouth. He rushes down the stairs and reaches out to you. When he's close, you turn your body away. "Hey..." he pleads.
"Curly...please go. Go anywhere. I don't know. Go call Jimmy or something. Just get out of my sight." You push your bowl of fruit away from you. Still refusing to face him, you continue, "I will not allow you to talk to me like that. Especially, especially, if we're talking about Jimmy. You must be out of your fucking mind."
He lingers before finally giving in. "Ok...I'll step out for a bit." Curly hesitantly places a hand on your back. You don’t tell him off or recoil. “I’m sorry and…and I shouldn’t have said that to you.”
Of course, he wasn’t going to acknowledge the actual problem - Jimmy. So you choose to let it go because it’s all you can do. Curly gives you the day to yourself before coming home for dinner. A bouquet of your flowers and tons of kisses make up for the quarrel for now.
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grlsbstshot · 1 day ago
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NEON LIGHTS
Pairing (Original Characters):
Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)
Chapters:
Neon Lights Masterlist
Chapter Synopsis: while imani processes her lingering pain over jameson’s constant betrayals, jameson reels from her inattention. torn between loyalty to her best friend and processing her own feelings, genie grapples with guilt and anxiety while ej does his best to take care of her. sloane attempts to celebrate the split between jameson and imani but genie intervenes.
Warnings: toxic relationship, them b words! (watch them b words!), explicit terminology, dirty talk (kinda), usage of the n-word (if you white and read it, you owe us $20) -- if we missed anything, let us know!
Word Count: 5.6k Divider Template: @cafekitsune
Notes: 
The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.
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1 week after Sloane's party
Jameson leaned against the kitchen counter, his phone clutched in his hand as he stared at the screen in surprise. The image of Christian reflected back at him and he briefly wondered when he even started following that nigga. A quick glance to the left-hand corner told him it was Imani's Instagram account. Imani? With Christian? He couldn't even see that bastard's face but knew he was probably happy as fuck to be with Imani.
Look who came to visit.
The caption made his stomach churn. There was nothing downright explicit or implicated more but the simple fact that she had taken the picture, thought of the caption, and posted it? It made him sick. He knew for a fact she couldn't stand him. After things ended abruptly between Christian and Genie, Imani hadn't seen it for him. Ever. But now they were close enough for him to visit?
Texts left on read. Calls that went straight to voicemail. The silence was deafening.
Jameson immediately left the app and went to his messages, texting her a blitz of...admittedly emotional responses. She still hadn't responded to any of the ones before. He put his phone face down on the counter, trying to rein in his temper. He didn’t need to read the comments to know what they said. Fans were undoubtedly cheering it on. Shit talking about how 'cute' he probably was. Wondering if she had finally replaced him.
What if she had? What if the space where he stood was going to belong to another person? Not just Christian -- anybody? That was enough to turn his stomach.
Jameson's hand clenched into a fist and he turned around, hitting the first thing he saw...which so happened to be EJ's fridge. His fist dented the medal but it hurt him a hell of a lot more than it did the inanimate object.
“Ay, muhfucka! I got that imported from France. Watch that shit. What's your problem?” Jameson glanced up to see EJ rounding the corner, a cup of coffee in his hand. He couldn't quite blame his best friend for being irritated but he was going through some shit.
“Her Instagram.” Jameson muttered, nodding toward his phone. EJ walked over, picked up the phone, and whistled low when he saw the post. “Ain't this a bitch.” He scrolled through the comments briefly before setting the phone down. “They have a ship name too. Chrismani sound stupid tho.”
Jameson glared at him and EJ quickly put the phone down, shrugging. "My bad, man." “What am I supposed to do? She’s not answering my calls. She’s ignoring my texts. And now she’s letting him—” Jameson cut himself off, shaking his head. He didn't know what the fuck the two had going on but either way, he didn't like that shit.
“Letting him what? Exist?” EJ raised an eyebrow. “Because that’s what it looks like to me. You give this nigga way too much power, man. Genie has a history with him, right? You know Imani. She not going too far with him."
Jameson frowned at EJ. He was right but he also knew..."Please. If you saw the girl you loved posted up with somebody else a week after ignoring your calls, you'd be tripping too." He didn't know what to do when it came to Imani. “She told me to choose. I could be friends with Sloane or I could be with her.”
EJ set his coffee down and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter as he stared at his best friend. “Okay? So Sloane's out. Now what?" Jameson began to rub his hand over his fist, rolling his eyes in agitation. "It's not that easy!"
EJ cocked his head, leaning against the counter as he stared at Jameson with wide eyes. "Fuck you mean it's not that easy? Lose a friend, gain a girlfriend. Besides, Genie don't like her and Genie likes everybody. That's how you know something is up with her."
Jameson sighed softly, reaching to snatch his phone off the counter again. EJ had a point. Genie and Sloane had fallen out around the time he and Imani had become serious. He never knew what happened but wanted them both to feel like they could count on him. He didn't want to take sides. His friend vs his sister? He didn't want to decide. "Sloane doesn't have anybody."
"She had a house full of people at that party last week." "None of those people give a shit about her." "And you do?" "Of course I do." "You want that girl?" "No! No. I'm so fucking tired of being accused of that shit. I've known her since she was fifteen. I knew her when she could barely look you in the eyes when she was talking to you. She was lonely as fuck. And she's still lonely. I'm sorry I feel guilty abandoning her."
Jameson saw EJ's face change. From confusion to understanding all in an instant and for some reason -- he hated it. "You keep saying you're 'abandoning' her. You're not, man. She's a grown up." Jameson braced himself, knowing what EJ was going to say next. "She's not you and you are not your father."
He shut it down within a second, shaking his head as he quickly moved out of the kitchen. His father was a forbidden subject. Nobody brought the man up. Not his mother, not the press. Nobody. As far as the world was concerned, it was just Anais and James Lucas against the world. "It's not about that, man. I just don't want to abandon my friend."
"Do you want Imani back?" EJ called out to him, following. "Of course I do." "Let Sloane go. You can't let her think Christian is the only muhfucka that cares about how she feels. Let her go."
Jameson stared at him, the words sinking in.
“You’ve got options,” EJ said, approaching him and patting his hand against Jameson's shoulder. “Write her a song. Send her flowers. Show up at the studio if you have to. You flew to fucking Italy within a minute. Why are you hesitating now? Don't sit there and let this nigga come take what's yours."
Jameson hesitated. “You think that’ll work?”
EJ shrugged. “I think it’s better than...you know. Punching my shit and stalking her on Instagram. You’ve always been a fighter, J. Don’t stop now.”
Jameson nodded slowly, his mind already spinning with ideas. EJ clapped him on the shoulder before heading out of the kitchen, leaving Jameson alone with his thoughts. He unlocked the phone in his hand and went back to Instagram, staring at the picture of Christian on her page. It was bullshit but EJ was right. He couldn't give up on her. He swore he never would.
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The texts came through fast, almost as if he didn't have to think about what he was sending. She didn't take any pleasure in his reaction. Not really. But Imani needed something to flip that damn switch in Jameson's mind. He needed to know she wasn't playing. The mention of Genie made her heart hurt though. She texted her before she posted the picture of Christian but there had been no response. There hadn't been a response afterward either and Imani was praying she didn't hold this against her.
She forced herself not to finish reading Jameson's texts. She closed out the messages and went back to Instagram. Cross-legged on her couch, the soft glow of her phone screen illuminating her face in the dim living room, she scrolled through the comments on her post.
The likes were climbing rapidly, as they always did. Thousands of comments flooded in, a mix of excitement, speculation, and blatant nosiness.
"With your bestie ex? Oh, messy Mani." "What about Jameson tho? 👀" "Girl, you’re glowing without him. Keep winning!"
Her thumb hovered over that last comment, her heart clenching. Glowing without him. Was she?
She tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her, leaning back against the couch. The praise and speculation didn’t fill the hollow ache that had been gnawing at her for days. It wasn’t about Christian—he was nothing. She felt absolutely nothing for the man. She got the vibe that he wanted something with her but Imani couldn't tell if he was delusional or just stupid to really think she'd give him the time of day after he was with her best friend. Then again...People thought that's exactly what she was doing.
The post wasn’t about him though. It was about the one person who wasn’t tagged, wasn’t mentioned, but was still present in every corner of her mind.
Jameson.
He kept letting her down. Choosing other people over her. She wouldn't him do it again. She closed her eyes, and the memories came rushing back like a tidal wave.
It was late, and the city lights outside their hotel room window shimmered like stars. She remembered sitting on the edge of the bed, the air thick with tension. Jameson stood in front of her, his hands trembling as he admitted the unthinkable. The night he ruined their relationship. All their problems went back to that one moment. “I slept with her.” he’d said, his voice raw and cracking. “I'm so sorry. Mani, I...I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. I was drunk. I swear to god.” Her heart had shattered in that moment, the weight of his words crushing her. She remembered the way her chest had tightened, the disbelief that had turned into anger, then grief. They were done, she knew that. He knew that. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? It's fuck me, huh?!” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. Her entire body shaking. “I trusted you. I gave you everything.” “Mani, please,” he’d begged, dropping to his knees in front of her, reaching for her hands. She snatched them away, trying to get up from the bed but Jameson grasped her by the waist, keeping her trapped. She pushed against his shoulders, twisting out of his grasp as tears filled her eyes. “I'm going to fix it, baby. I swear to god, I'll fix it. I'm sorry.” "Let me go! You can't fix this shit!" "Yes, I can. I can fix it. I'll be better." "Jameson. You just told me you fucked another bitch and you really think I'm going to give you a chance to fix it? We're done. It's over."
She opened her eyes, the memory dissipating like smoke, but the sting remained. She reached for her phone again, scrolling back to her post. The comments about Jameson were multiplying, each one a reminder of the life they’d shared and the pain he’d caused.
She couldn’t go back to that. She wouldn’t.
Her thumb hovered over the delete button for a moment before she pulled her hand away. No, she thought. Let him have to keep seeing it. Let him wonder. Let the tags in the comments be a reminder. “You won't get to the chance to play me again.” she whispered, her voice steady.
With that, she exited the app, her resolve solidifying. If Jameson wanted her back, he’d have to do more than beg. He’d have to prove he was worthy of her trust—and she wasn’t sure she’d ever believe that again.
Imani opened her texts, shooting a message to her engineer and manager. She had written so much shit when she was trying to get over the betrayal Jameson had done -- it was enough for albums. Why not use this pain to start a new chapter in her life? She spent so much of her time worrying about him. It was time to worry about herself. Her music. Her career.
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Genie had done her best to put it out of her mind. The picture was exploding all over social media. She'd been tagged in it almost as much as Jameson was and each time made her chest tighten. The knot of anxiety she’d been carrying all day pulling tighter. She promised to meet EJ for lunch and had arrived early, sitting primly and perfectly -- covered in Chanel. Her beautiful dark coils pressed perfectly and swept back in a french curl. She looked much better than she felt.
She had known Imani was going to post it. The text had come hours before, but Genie hadn’t responded. She’d stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. What could she say? No one knew the whole story of she and Christian. All she told Imani was that it was over. But shouldn't that have been enough? Of all the men to use to make Jameson jealous, why him?
She had complicated feelings about Imani playing with Jameson's feelings as well -- but it wasn't as if she didn't have good reason. He was her brother but he was an idiot sometimes. The image was out in the world and Genie felt that her silence was almost complicity in hurting Jameson. If the gossip was correct, Sloane was a thorn in their relationship and Genie knew a surefire way to get her out.
EJ finally arrived and Genie glanced up to see him making his way to their table -- led by the hostess. A smile curved her lips as the two maintained eye contact. She had never been so enamored with a man before. Even that crush she had on Christian had been bullshit compared to how EJ made her feel. They kept their relationship fairly casual. After their night at Sloane's party, he had been with her every step of the way, reassuring her and being patient with her. He was more than she deserved.
Before he sat down, he came to her side of the table and kissed her softly. It was a brief touch of his lips but the stiffness in her shoulders relaxed. She felt the tightening of her chest relax and for a minute, she felt like she could breathe. "Hi, baby." He told her softly, moving to take his seat as she poured him a glass of wine. His sharp eyes flicking to the phone on the table. “I guess you've seen it.,” he said, nodding toward it. “Jamie isn't too happy either.”
Genie hesitated, then nodded to confirm she saw it. “She said it was to make Jameson jealous, but…” She trailed off, placing the bottle back on the table. "I don't know. It seems so out of character for her. Mani can be petty but she doesn't waste her time with people she doesn't give a fuck about. I don't think she understands what she's getting into."
EJ nodded, lifting his hand to gesture to a waiter for a glass of water. He was totally different from her. He worried about their friends but Genie took it totally to heart. Probably because she loved them both. EJ loved Jameson -- she was sure he hadn't decided how he felt about Imani yet. "I told him to go get his girl back. But I kind of regret it now."
Genie prepared herself to defend Imani. Jameson was her brother but she wasn't ready to absolve him of his sins. Especially when the reason their relationship was so chaotic was because he cheated a year ago. "They love each other so that wasn't a mistake. They just...they can't seem to get it together.," she said softly. “This is going to make everything worse. For her. For Jameson. For everyone.”
EJ leaned back, studying her with a mix of concern. “Did you tell her that?”
“I...I couldn't." Genie sighed, then immediately regretted the admission. “I mean, I wanted to. But what was I supposed to say? ‘Don’t post him because he’s a jerk who’s going to ruin your life?’ I didn't want her to think I was jealous.”
EJ raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”
Genie opened her mouth to deny it, but the words caught in her throat. She had been jealous at the party. It had caused a twinge to her heart to see a man she used to want choosing other women over her. Women she loved deeply and respected. He had already taken Sloane. Now Imani? She had been scared. But as she gazed at EJ, she knew he was one of a kind. There wasn't a man like him in the world. How dare she be jealous over a man who wasn't worth it when one who was sat in front of her. “I’m not jealous. Anymore.,” she said finally, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I’m scared. For her. For Jameson. I don’t want to see either of them hurt. Between Sloane and Christian, their relationship could easily snap.”
EJ’s expression softened. He reached out and took her hand, brushing his thumb back and forth across her skin, “You worry too much about other people, Genie. It’s gonna tear you apart if you let it.”
Genie looked down at his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding her. “I can’t help it,” she murmured.
“I know. You got the kind of heart I love. But maybe it’s time you focused on you,” EJ said gently. “Let them figure it out. You’ve got your own life to live, Genie. Your own man to worry about."
"Oh? Are you my man?" "Didn't you cum on my face a few times? I could have sworn last night that you begged me to --"
Genie's eyes went wide as she peered around the restaurant to see if anyone heard him. No one did but her reaction made EJ laugh. She snatched her hand from his, reaching over to slap his wrist.
"Stop it! Don't say that out loud!" "It's true. You did. And you're gonna do it again when we leave here." "Is that all you're going to do?" "For now." "What if I want more?" "I gotta make sure you're ready. So stop babysitting everybody else and let me take care of you for a change." "Yes, sir." "Ooh. Keep that up. I like that."
She smiled faintly, though the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen. For the rest of the lunch, she and EJ didn't mention Jameson and Imani but her gaze kept straying to the phone. Thoughts of Christian and Sloane filtered through her mind. For her last act of babysitting -- she was going to make sure they didn't ruin Imani and Jameson's second chance. If they couldn't get it right, it had to be on their own terms. Not anybody else's.
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It was nightfall by the time Genie managed to convince EJ to let her out of bed. He asked her to let everyone figure their shit out but she had to get this out. Once she promised him she'd wash her hands of it after talking to Jameson, he gave her a kiss and let her go. Texting Jameson and telling him it was an emergency was probably dramatic but he shared his location with her. When she pulled up to the recording studio, he was waiting outside -- leaning against his Range Rover.
He watched her curiously as she parked and got out, lifting his hand to press to her shoulder as he escorted her inside -- like an annoyed but worried older brother would. When they were settled in a quiet, private studio, finally he leaned in and nudged her arm. "Talk. You kind of scaring me."
They sat in front of the mixing console, a track playing lowly in the background. Genie could tell it was one of his. She knew his voice anywhere but hadn't heard this song before. She understood a few words here and there but couldn't catch the rhythm of the song. Jamie looked tense, his shoulders stiff. She knew he hadn't been able to shake the thoughts of Imani and Christian from his mind.
“What’s going on?”
Genie hesitated, the weight of what she was about to say pressing down on her. She took a deep breath and shrugged out of her jacket. "There’s a lot you don’t know. Things I’ve been keeping to myself because I didn’t want to -- Well, I wasn't brave enough to do what Imani did. I didn't want to make you choose. But after everything that’s happened -- Imani, that post, the way Christian's been acting -- I can’t stay quiet anymore.”
Jameson’s expression darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes as he grasp her hands in his. “What did he do?”
Genie exhaled shakily, her voice trembling as she began. “Christian and I -- it was a fluke from the beginning. Maybe I was too presumptive but I...I told Sloane how I felt. She encouraged me to pursue him. So I did. I put myself out there." Tears filled her eyes as she thought of the way she had embarrassed herself. The sting of being rejected had faded but losing Sloane -- knowing what she had done? That would never go away.
"I found them together. At your afterparty for the Grammys. They were...Well, they were fucking. In your pool house. I didn't say a word. I turned around and left but I confronted Sloane afterward." Genie took a breath and forced herself to continue. "She didn’t even deny it. Said it was no big deal because...it wasn't like he wanted me anyway. He liked someone else. She knew and didn't tell me. I stopped talking to her that night.”
She felt his grip around her fingers tighten for a moment before they relaxed. The look on his face was...a lot like hers the night Sloane had shown who she was. Devasated. Confused. Disbelief. “She said that to you?”
Genie nodded, her throat tightening as tears fell. “I told Christian I was sorry. Can you believe it? I apologized for not being who he wanted. It was embarrassing. I'm starting to think who he wanted...was Imani.”
Jameson shook his head but all the pieces were falling into place. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding her.”
“Yes,” Genie said, her voice firmer now as she pulled her hands free and wiped her eyes. “And it’s why I think you need to let her go, J. Do what Imani said. Choose her. Sloane only cares about herself and she’s only going to drag you down.”
Jameson leaned back in his seat. “She was your friend. I wouldn't even know her if it wasn't for you. You loved her before anybody else and she...she did that to you.”
“Yes,” Genie said gently. “If anybody knows what it's like to see the best in Sloane, it's me. I always saw it. Until she showed me something else, Jameson. Don't wait until she shows you.”
He looked up at her then, a spark of anger in his eyes. "And Christian?”
Genie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don't know. He may really like Imani but she...she deserves better." She may be there to help Jameson fix things but she couldn't bring herself to tell him that Imani was just trying to make him jealous. Loyalty to both kept her conflicted.
They sat in silence for a while so Jameson could process everything. He was distracted, clearly overwhelmed, but she knew what he would do when he spoke next. "I love you, you know?" he told Genie softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You and your dad...you two gave me and Ma everything we needed to feel like a family. You're my sister, Genie. I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you."
She gave him a faint smile, tears filling her eyes again. For somebody who could write music, he had never been eloquent with her about his feelings. They irritated each other like siblings but she had never truly said it to him. "I love you too." Genie said softly. “I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you either. That's why Sloane has to get out of our lives. Now.”
Jameson nodded, agreeing without words. “I threw everything away with Imani to be loyal to somebody who didn't deserve it.”
Genie reached out, squeezing his knee. “It may not be over. Try it. Let her know you choose her. Over anything. Even if you guys don't work it out, at least you’ll know you did everything you could. But you can’t move forward if you’re still holding onto people like Sloane.”
He nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. “You’re right,” he said finally.
Genie smiled faintly, relief washing over her. “Good. Now, go clean up your mess.”
He gave her a small, rueful laugh. “I'm not good at that.”
“Get good at it.,” she said, standing and placing a kiss to his forehead...before slapping him on the back of the neck. Jameson flinched but only stared up at her. “Consider this my retirement from worrying about you and Imani. My man told me to stop.”
His brows furrowed as she turned to leave the studio. "What man?!" he called out after her. Genie ignored him and continued on to her car to get back home to EJ.
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God had to have a sense of humor. No sooner had he watched Genie zip off in her car, he'd gotten a text from Sloane. A dinner invitation. He had been seconds from texting a denial but he knew this message was better delivered in person -- so he agreed to show up. He spent the entire drive to her place stewing in anger -- pissed at her and himself. He had spent months bringing this girl around Genie, around Imani. Begging them to give her a shot. He hadn't even asked why she and Genie had fallen apart. He was a shit friend and a shit boyfriend.
The elevator doors slid open, and Jameson stepped into the hallway leading to Sloane’s penthouse. His jaw tight and he had no idea how to release his tension. He had no idea what he planned to say. There was so much in his head. All he wanted to do was yell at her. Make her give him a valid reason for the shit she'd been doing. The weight of Genie’s confession bore down on him, and the idea of confronting Sloane left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He knocked twice, his knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. Moments later, the door swung open, and Sloane appeared, her face lighting up like the sun.
“Jamie! Just in time! Dinner is almost done.” she exclaimed, pulling the door wide for him to enter. When he did so, she immediately wrapped her arms around him. “Hi. I missed you.”
Her perfume was light and airy. In another place, another time, he probably would have complimented her on it and told her that he missed her too. And that would have been the wrong thing to do. Becoming disillusioned with Sloane made him notice everything. The way she clung to him, the way she looked up at him with bright eyes, the darkened apartment, the Ella Fitzgerald album -- one of his favorites -- playing softly in the background. He stood stiffly, not hugging her back but it didn't seem to phase her. She took her time hugging him, only pulling back when she deemed it was over.
Jameson’s expression didn’t waver. “We just saw each other last week at the party, Sloane,” he said, his voice cutting sharper than the edge of a blade.
She blinked, momentarily thrown off by his tone. “I know. It still feels like it’s been a minute…”
Jameson stepped further away from her, his movements deliberate. He glanced around, noting the intimate setup of the dining table—a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a single candle flickering softly. The oven lit up with the smell of a dinner that he couldn't quite place. Genie had lit the match but everything was ablaze now. Imani's accusations were crystal clear in his mind. God, she had been right.
“I saw Imani posted Christian on Instagram,” Sloane said, her voice carefully measured. “I’m sorry…you don’t deserve that.”
Jameson’s jaw tightened as he stood with his back with her, trying to get a grasp on his anger. “Imani's mine to worry about.”
“I-I know,” Sloane stammered, moving closer to him. Her voice softened, dripping with concern. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Jamie.” She reached out for his hand, her fingers brushing against his. “You can call me if you need anything.”
Jameson didn’t move. His demeanor was rigid, his body language screaming discomfort. He didn’t bother to touch her hand, his gaze fixed on hers with an intensity that made her falter.
“Is everything okay?” Sloane asked, her voice uncertain. She tilted her head, her lips curving into a small, confused smile. “You’re not acting like my Jamie.”
"Did you fuck Christian?" he asked her abruptly, tilting his head to look at her. He saw it for a second. For one second, she looked caught off guard. She looked...exposed. But then the guard went up, her brow furrowed and she gave him a laugh. He could see her about to lie. "Don't. Don't you dare lie to me. I've had enough of that."
She hesitated but then moved away, heading back to the table. She tripped over her own heels and clumsily poured herself a glass of wine. Jameson finally moved, the tension draining from his body the more he confronted her. Sloane lifted the glass to gulp down wine before Jameson continued on. "Genie told me everything." He watched her choke on the liquid, leaning forward as she coughed loudly and took deep breaths. "And I got to thinking -- if she could do that to her best friend...what else could she do?"
She turned wide eyes to him as she continued to try to catch her breath. "Christian was...a mistake." She gasped out, shaking her head. "It was just a night. We were drunk! We got carried away!"
He heard the same mistakes he gave Imani and his stomach churned again, shaking his head. "You destroyed someone who loved you. Better than anyone else. Do you think that excuse works? You hurt the kindest fucking person in the world. And you hurt her because you could. You humiliated her! And you act like nothing happened! You didn't even have the fucking decency to tell her you're sorry!"
Sloane’s lips parted, but no words came out. She looked at him, searching for some sign of forgiveness, but all she could see was disappointment and anger. It's all he had left for her.
“I believed in you. Imani told me to choose and I...I said I wouldn't but I did. I fucking chose you because I thought you were a good person. I thought you needed me. A friend.” Jameson continued, his voice low and steady.
"I do need you!" "You don't need me! You want me. There's a fucking difference, Sloane!"
He heard his phone notifications go off but he ignored it. Even when it continued, he kept going. His gaze didn't leave Sloane's. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached out for him but he sidestepped her hand. She clenched her fingers tightly and sobbed quietly but he didn’t flinch. "Jamie, please. I’m sorry. I never meant—”
“Are you in love with me?” he interrupted, his tone weary. He didn't need the confession but he asked anyway. “If you ever cared about me, tell me the truth.”
Sloane froze before she gave the slightest nod. That nod hit him hard in the gut.
"You want to hear what I feel?" He asked her and watched as she closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. She knew he didn't love her. She couldn't bear to hear the words. But Jameson figured it out now. A hard lesson to learn but...he had to give them to her. "I love Imani. I love everything about her. I love her so much that I don't know how to live without her. She makes me want to be better. I love the way she loves Genie. I love the way she loves me. And I gave that up twice. I keep hurting her and I did it again. This time...for you. And I regret it."
The more he spoke, the more she cried. "I'm sorry I brought us to this. You can blame me for it. Not Imani. Goodbye, Sloane." He moved towards the door and she followed him. Her phone rang out loud and she hesitated, tears blurring her eyes as she turned back to the kitchen. He didn't stop moving.
As he reached for the handle, she called out, her voice breaking. “Jamie, wait—Please! Don't leave me.”
He paused but didn’t turn around. Guilt grabbed a hold of him again but he pushed it away, knowing that enabling Sloane would only hurt her further...so he opened the door and walked out. It clicked shut behind him and for a moment, he stood there, trying to catch his breath. He heard her scream, throw things across the room, and yell out for him -- but he pretended he didn't.
Jameson walked towards the elevators, the anger he had carried up with him left behind in her place. He fished his phone out of his pocket, pushing the button for the ground floor as he read each text that came through but one caught his attention: a text from EJ that contained a link to Apple Music and an article.
R&B Sensation Imani releases surprise EP, Diary
As he browsed the article, the elevator doors pinged open and an avalanche of notifications from Instagram came in. Even more than when Imani posted the picture of Christian. To make matters worse, he got a shit ton of texts from friends and acquaintances. Half of them were the fucking eye emoji.
"Shit." He muttered to himself.
37 notes · View notes
godmadeaterribleerror · 2 days ago
Text
More Than You Could Ever Know - Part 2
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Series Masterlist
Author's Note: Big bonus chapter for fans of Ben being obsessed with Her.
Title from All I Want For Christmas is You by Mariah Carey
Word Count: 9.2k
Chapter Summary/Warnings: Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Usual Warnings.
Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth rotting fluff, established relationship, Christmas Special
Part 1 - Part 3
Read on A03!
Ben wasn’t sure when stores got so fucking big. He’d seen big box stores before—despite what She insisted, he wasn’t a fucking dinosaur—but this was downright insane. It was a goddamn warehouse, and a poorly designed, maze-like one at that. There was no fucking logic to any of this shit, because Ben took a turn from what seemed to be an electronics isle and ended up surrounded by fucking cheese. It didn’t help that it was only him and Ryan, and they both needed Her for this modern navigation shit. But She was off doing her stupid surprise—Ben had tried to call it a secret again and She’d stuck Her tongue out and flipped him off—so they had to figure this shit out alone, together.
It wasn’t going that well.
“What the fuck are these.” Ben grunted, his eyes narrowed on the shelf in-front of them, filled with weird looking, round stuffed animals. And a mango. And one brown thing that seemed to be staring into his goddamn soul.
Ryan—standing at Ben’s elbows and tapping his fingers on the half-full cart—shrugged nervously. “I think they’re called Squishmallows?”
“Stupid fucking name. What’s that,” Ben gestured to the brown one. “Even supposed to be-“
“Pancakes.” Ryan mumbled. “I think?”
“Huh.” Ben glowered at the plushie, and realized Ryan had nailed it. Stuffed pancakes. She’d like stuffed pancakes. “Good work, kid.”
Ben grabbed the pancakes, tossed them into the cart, and tried not to drown in the hot, bright pride bursting in his chest at Ryan’s grin as he started to push the cart once more.
“Wait.” Ben halted Ryan with a hand on his shoulder, and pointed back to the shelf. “You want one?”
Ryan turned a little red, his voice a soft fucking whisper as his heart stumbled in his chest. “Yes, please.”
“Grab it and we’ll get moving.”
Ryan nodded, choosing one of the weird animals—Ben would figure out exactly what the fuck it was later, but his best bet right now was a cat—and they moved on through the store.
“We got your pants.” Ben scanned around the store, half his attention on what they were supposed to be doing and half on making sure no fucking pussies started filming them. “And the shit for dinner.”
“And Butcher’s shirt,” Ryan added, and when Ben glanced down at him, he was frowning at the cart. “Do you think he’ll like it? He has shirts.”
Ben shrugged. “Everyone has fucking shirts, Ryan. Butcher will just be damn grateful you got him something.”
Ryan hummed, sounding slightly unconvinced, his bod still tensed, so Ben kept talking. 
“And the asshole is fucking impossible to buy for. Trust me, kid, the shirt was a good idea. Butcher will like it.”
“Did you,” Ryan looked up at Ben with widened eyes. “Did you buy him something?”
“Have to. Got him for Secret Santa. And, fuck, don’t tell,” Ben muttered Her name. “I told you that shit. Supposed to be a fucking secret.”
“I won’t.” Ryan shrugged. “I mean, you’ll probably tell her, right?”
Ben snorted, because he would tell Her. The first damn thing he’d do when She got home was pull her into a long kiss and grumble against her lips that he’d told Ryan. And She’d hit his chest and give him a flat glare, teasing him about really not understanding the secret part of Secret Santa, and that would be it. 
And Ryan fucking knew that. He knew that She and Ben didn’t lie to each other, and that when she hit Ben it was never painful or angry, and when Ben rolled his eyes at Her it was because she was a pretty fucking brat with a smart mouth, and he wouldn’t have her any other damn way. Ryan knew they’d never hurt or be really mad at each other, and he was finally starting to fucking get that they’d never hurt or be mad at him. 
It was why, when Ben shook his head and kept walking—never going faster than Ryan could keep up with—the kid’s heart stayed even, and his face remained relaxed. Relaxed for Ryan, so still a little fucking small and nervous, but without panic or fear. And that was as much as Ben could ask for, because he wouldn’t have Ryan any other way either.
“What else do we need.” Ben asked, keeping his vigilant watch on the store around them as Ryan responded.
“Um, I need scrabble for Kimiko?” Ryan mumbled Her name, and Ben’s whole fucking body roared with love from the goddamn sound of it. “Needs something too- as well.” Ryan corrected himself, and Ben chuckled at his puffed-out chest and toothy smile.
“Good work, kid.” He muttered, patting Ryan on the back. “Got ideas?”
“For-“
Ben said Her name, and She glowed a little around his skull. He really fucking missed Her, and if he couldn’t sense that she was a least half-way across the damn city he’d go find Her. Keep his gaze away from Her stupid fucking surprise, but also keep Her by his side. Make Her help him and Ryan with this shit, because She’d know what to do. She always fucking knew what to do.
He’d missed Ryan’s answer. Ben had gotten so lost in the instinct of Her, alight in his body, that he hadn’t heard what the hell Ryan was trying to get her.
“What.”
“Butterfly bush.” Ryan mumbled, staring sheepishly at the cart. “I read about them in my science class? They’re plants that attract butterflies, and you said she likes butterflies? I dunno-“
“Ryan.” Ben snapped, making his voice stern. He didn’t know how to do that soft, sweet shit She did, but Ryan seemed to understand his own, harsher words just as well. Understand that Ben wasn’t fucking mad, just firm in what he said. “That’s a good fucking idea. They sell them here?”
Ryan nodded slowly, his heart slowing to an easy rhythm. “I think so?”
“Well,” Ben shrugged, looking around for some sort of sign that said Perfect fucking gift for amazing wife. “Let go find it.”
It took half a fucking hour, but they found the butterfly bush. Stashed in the back of the goddamn store, real damn pretty and all fucking pink and green. She’d fucking love it. Ben grunted that to Ryan, that this was a damn good gift, and the kid looked like he might explode with joy and pride. Christ, Ben might explode with joy and pride. They’d managed to get everything She’d asked them to—gifts, clothing, food—plus some extra shit like the pancakes, nobody had died, and he and Ryan were doing an amazing fucking job knowing Her. Ben had all his gifts for Her lined up, and they were fucking excellent, but the butterfly bush was a stroke of goddamn genius. Ben wasn’t sure where the hell Ryan got his brains from, because Ben wasn’t an idiot, but he wasn’t that fucking smart, and Homelander had been a goddamn pussy dumbass. Maybe the kid’s mom, Butcher’s dead wife, but a smart lady shouldn’t have married fucking Butcher.
She’d say people might argue that She shouldn’t be married to Ben, but that she also loved him and adored him, and didn’t really fucking care what random fucking pussies thought about them. That maybe Ryan’s mom had seen something better in Butcher, just like She saw something better in Ben. 
But that was why Ben was almost certain Ryan had to, somehow, against all fucking odds, be related to Her by blood. The kid was too generous like that, too kind like that, too fucking smart to be anything else. Ben could fucking see Her on Ryan’s face as they wandered through the store for Kimiko’s scrabble. See Her in the wide awe at all the stupid shit on the shelves, in the real, raw fucking happiness when they found what they were looking for. 
See Her in the slight, hopeful gape on Ryan’s face as the kid halted in front of a terrarium, tracking the turtle inside with bright eyes.
Fuck, Ben could hear Her in Ryan’s voice. Hear that soft, gentle nervousness She had when she asked Ben for something. The tone Ben could make himself say no to if he tried.
Shit.
“Can we get it?” Ryan whispered, pointing to the turtle, swimming real goddamn slow around its tank. “Please?”
Ben scowled. That thing was real goddamn small—easily crushable if he and Ryan weren’t careful—and alive. It was fucking alive. It would need to be fed and cared for, and fuck Ben if he was going to do that-
“I’ll take care of it.” Ryan added, and Ben realized the kid had turned to look at him. Look at him with fucking puppy eyes. “I promise. It’ll stay in my room, and I’ll feed it and watch it and clean its tank-“
“Ryan.” Ben grunted. “Why the fuck do you want a turtle-“
“I like them.” Ryan glanced back to the tank. “They’re really peaceful. And, um, I just think they’re cool. I’ve always wanted one.”
Ben raised his brows. “Always.”
Ryan nodded. “I, um, I couldn’t get one. Mom said it was because I was too young, but I think it was because of, of the thing-“
“Fine,” Ben grunted, glaring at the turtle. He’d been going to give in anyway, might as well do it before the kid got all fucking sad in the middle of the store. Where random fucking asscucks could film it and put it online. Ryan could cry in the car, or when they were home, or when Ben was allowed to break phones and faces when people tried to exploit his son’s pain. Not when it could be avoided by buying a stupid fucking turtle. “But,” he said Her name, already reaching down the connection. “Has to approve this shit first. Deal?”
Ryan nodded eagerly, and Ben called Her name between their heads.
Benjamin. Is everything-
We’re fine. Ben glowered at the turtle, his voice a little lower than he’d like. Can we get Ryan a turtle.
There was a moment of silence before She responded, long enough for Ben to wonder if she somehow hadn’t heard him. What.
Ryan wants-
I heard you, Ben. But it’s December in Pennsylvania, where the fuck did you find a turtle for Ryan to want it.
Ben smirked into the air. Costco. This place is a fucking marvel, Sunshine, I got burger meat and pants-
I know how Costco works, my love. Why are you looking at turtles.
Ryan wants it.
She sighed in Ben’s head. I got that. He knows turtles can live for, like, twenty years, right?
Ben frowned. “Ryan, how long do turtles live.”
“Some can live for fifty years! And they’re so small, isn’t that cool?!” 
Ben grunted, reaching back to Her. He knows. And he promised to take care of it.
Where does he want to keep it-
His room.
There was a beat of silence, and Ben knew She was considering it. He could practically fucking feel Her brain thinking.
I’m worried he’ll crush it, Ben. She mumbled in Ben’s head. He’s so much better at controlling his strength now, but if something happens on accident, he won’t forgive himself. 
I know. But I’ll make sure that shit doesn’t happen. Ben watched Ryan carefully as he muttered to Her in the silence. I’ll carry it home, and Ryan and I can do some grip exercises to practice. He really fucking wants it, Sunshine. 
She let out a long, slow breath in the sounds of the store around them. Okay. He can have one. But it’s your ass if something happens to it, Benjamin.
Ben grunted an agreement, rolling his eyes at the air, but he knew She could feel his affection, warm and stupidly fucking gooey in his body. Feel the radiance over his ribs when he nodded an affirmation at Ryan, and the kid grinned so widely it made something in Ben’s chest goddamn explode with pride.
“Thank you!” Ryan bounced slightly on his toes, grabbing Ben into a tight hug. “I’ll take good care of it, I promise. Thank you-“
“You’re welcome, kid.” Ben grunted, because She’d punch him if he just dismissed Ryan’s thanks. “Let’s grab it and get home.”
Ryan didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the goddamn week. She didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the week. She got home from Her secret, kissed Ben with a bright, happy hum Ben could feel everywhere around him, and let Ryan drag Her upstairs to look at the turtle. 
“Oh, wow.” She titled Her head at it, crouching next to the tank with Ryan watching Her nervously. “That’s adorable, Ry. Have you named it?”
“Um, maybe? I’m not sure it’s a good name-“
“What is it?”
Ben could hear Ryan’s heart stutter nervously. “Bowser?”
She laughed. An amused, perfect, easy laugh with a pretty smile and nod that made Ryan’s heart ease, and Ben’s entire existence so fucking good. 
“I like it.” She nudged Ryan’s shoulder with her’s, still watching the turtle. “It looks like a Bowser. And if we get a cat we can name it Koopa.”
Ben glared at Her. “We are not getting a fucking cat, Sunshine.”
“Fine,” She smiled at him, pretty eyes sharp and amused on his, full of love Ben could feel in the whole goddamn world. “A dog.”
He rolled his eyes, Her smile only grew, and Ben couldn’t find it in himself to be really, truly pissed. She was too fucking perfect for that. Everything was too fucking perfect for that lately. Because the next week passed in a blur, and it was almost all perfect, happy shit like this. It was kissing Her and helping Ryan wrap his gifts, eating dinner with his goddamn family every night, talking to them and watching tv with them and laughing with them.
Even work wasn’t entirely fucking dogshit. Kimiko and Frenchie were just a weird as before, but Ben was used it by now, and he’d even started to pick up some of that sign language shit. Enough to understand what gestures were names and when Kimiko was asking him a basic question about Her or Ryan. How they were doing—really fucking good—and if She would be picking Ben up from work. On office days She usually did, and they were always there for an extra damn hour as She and Kimiko got caught in a conversation, Ben and Frenchie standing awkwardly off to the side.
But Ben had adapted to that as well. Learned how to talk to Frenchie more, enough to ask him for a favor. A favor for Her that Frenchie had said yes to without hesitation, and they’d been working on for about two weeks now. 
And everything was really damn good.
If every rogue supe in the country didn’t take a fucking break until New Years, Ben was going to start killing people again. 
His whole damn day had been spent in the car. Four hours to New York and back, half the time it had taken to do the actual fucking mission. And the only reason they weren’t in and out of that in twenty minutes was because the bitch had decided to run, and she didn’t have a no-murder rule. And Ben was fucking busy. They had to get their tree today, Ryan had to be picked up from school, and Ben had to talk to Her about what the fuck they were going to do about Butcher’s gift.
He wished She was here. She’d have backed the Ice Lady—or Queen or Countess or Duchess, Ben couldn’t be fucked to remember—into a corner in ten damn minutes, and they wouldn’t have had to use Frenchie’s dogshit flamethrower to sedate the bitch and get her into the van. She wouldn’t have sneered and mocked the SFBI agents when they turned the Ice Lady in, or spilled coffee on their evidence for arrest, dragging out the process another forty minutes. She wouldn’t have missed the exit off the goddamn highway.
Actually, if Ben was being honest about the woman he loved, She probably would have missed the exit. She was amazing at fucking everything, but not driving. 
But She was also fucking fast. Ben would’ve been home a damn hour ago if She had gone with them. 
He wouldn’t have been ten minutes late to pick up Ryan either.
He hadn’t stop to change when Butcher dropped him back home. He’d grabbed the keys and fucking booked it to the school. Ryan would be okay by himself until Ben got there—and Ben would explain, because the kid wasn’t allowed to think She and Ben would ever fucking forget about him—and She hadn’t reached down the connection to ask why the hell Ben was late, so everything was fucking fine. Butcher and his reminders about getting the Ice Lady paperwork in before Friday could shove it, because anyone could fill out a damn form, and Ben might have been the one who actually caught Ice Lady, but Kimiko had been right goddamn next to him. If it was that fucking critical, she could do it. Ryan was more important. 
He didn’t bother to lock the car when he parked it. The time it took to get Ryan wasn’t long enough to hot-wire, and if anyone tried to steal Ben’s property, he’d throw them onto the roof. And Ben’s property was a frost-bitten jacket and gun. Only a dumb fucking pussy would try and jack a car that had a gun.
Picking Ryan up from school was always a fucking trial. It was a nice school—She’d found it, working her perfect fucking ass off to make sure they treated Ryan like any other damn kid—and most of the kids weren’t entirely little shits, but Ben was one more goddamn incident from punching a parent. There were dumb ones, who seemed to think Ryan was some sort of fucking threat to their children, and the fucking pussies who’d been brainwashed by Vought and Homelander, who didn’t like Her. The school had received a petition to ban Her from school events, because She was a murderer and felon—She’d been fucking pardoned, and everyone She’d murdered goddamn deserved it—and She’d spent a handful of days quiet and hollow. Only eating when Ben put food in front of Her and told her to, only moving mechanically—her every gesture and breath over-controlled—and only sleeping when Ben held Her and ran his hands through her hair, muttering soothing words.
“You’re not a murder,” Ben had said Her name, kissing her brow as She clung to his chest and his whole fucking body felt ill. “You’re a good fucking person. Better than any of those pussies-“
“They’ve never,” She’d taken a long, slow breath, and curled her smoking hands in his shirt. “They’ve never killed anyone. Good people aren’t murders-“
“Good is respective.” He’d tugged lightly on Her hair, just enough for Her to look up at him. Pretty, sharp eyes that were glossy and heavy, that made something in Ben’s chest fucking contort and ache. “They’ve never had to kill Homelander, or Sage, or fight their fucking asses off to keep the damn world spinning. You did, and you didn’t ever fucking break.” He’d dropped his brow to Her’s, holding Her soft, tragic gaze. “You’re fucking perfect, and they’re just sad, weak fucking idiots.”
She’d nodded, letting out a strangled, slightly pleading sob, and Ben had understood. He’d just had to stay there, and hold Her until this passed. It always fucking passed, and Ben always stayed by Her side until it did. Until Her body went loose in his arms, and her hands drifted up to hold his face as she offered him a soft—but really fucking real—smile. 
“Subjective.” She’d whispered, playing with the hair of his beard. “Good is subjective.” Ben had rolled his eyes, and Her smile had grown. “Smartass.”
She’d hummed, guiding Ben’s lips down to her’s, kissing him until Her heart was at an even pace again, and Ben could breathe again. 
I’m your smartass, Pretty Boy.
Damn right you’re mine, he’d pulled Her lower lip between his teeth, smirking at Her breathy moan. I fucking love you, brat.
I love you too. She’d wrapped her arms around his neck, and Ben rolled them over, keeping Her safe and warm and happy under his body.
He’d kissed Her into the mattress until there weren’t any ghosts of horror over her beautiful features, until that presence of Her felt like a halo over his head. 
Am I allowed to kill them. He’d said between their heads when they’d separated, his weight dropped carefully over her body as She played with his hair and he rubbed circles on her skin. Just fucking one, Sunshine. Let me kill one.
Maybe one.
Her answer had been quick, and Ben had looked up at Her with a surprised grin. You’ve got a fucking name?
I didn’t say that-
Is it Pigtail’s dad-
No-
Puppy Pack’s mom-
Ben-
Glitter Glasses-
Benjamin. She’d whacked his chest, giving him a stern glare that didn’t even make him flinch, because that was Her glare when she wasn’t really mad at Ben, but was just being a too kind, too perfect miracle of a woman. Learn the children’s names.
He’d given Her a flat look. I’ll learn their dumbfuck names when they stop acting like Ryan’s got the fucking plague. Who is it.
You’re not allowed to say anything. Or kill anyone.
Ben had nodded, watching Her carefully as she took in a long breath, burying Her face as she answered.
You know the girl who always wears the leopard-print boots-
Yeah. Cat Boots.
Georgia, Ben. Her name is Georgia.
I don’t give a fuck what her name is. He’d frowned, scanning over her pretty, nervous pout. It’s her mom. Fake Face.
She’d flushed slightly. Maybe.
In the moment, Ben had just grunted, flipped them over, and fucked up into Her until she unraveled with bright eyes and needy moans above him. He’d praised Her and kissed Her until she was only happy, then made Her dinner and grumbled from across the table that, if She wanted, he would kill Fake Face. 
She’d dismissed him, because she was too fucking good and knew that Ben would carve himself open and crush his body under a million scalpels and boxes of gas before he left Her. 
Fake Face should count herself lucky that She was so kind and forgiving and perfect, and even more fucking lucky that Ben loved his wife more than goddamn anything. That Ben wasn’t going to kill anyone, because She’d be sad about it.
But Ben still really fucking wanted to kill Fake Face. She was a fucking annoyance, looked at Ben like he was some sort of slab of meant, and looked at Her like she was the scum of the goddamn earth, when this lady couldn’t hold a candle to Her. It was like comparing a burnt-out matchstick to the fucking sun, and Ben didn’t understand how anyone—even a jealous, dick-riding plastic bitch—could look at Her and not feel like they were seeing something holy.
Fake Face had introduced herself to Her and Ben the first time they’d picked up Ryan. There had been quick handshakes, sickly sweet words from Fake Face, and grunts from Ben as he’d pretended to listen, mostly frowning down at Her. She’d been clinging to Ben’s arm as Fake Face asked him if he was really as strong as the stories said, and She’d felt heavy and sick in Ben’s body.
What’s wrong. He’d muttered down the connection, and She’d shaken her head slightly. 
She hates me.
Ben had frowned at Fake Face, who was getting dangerously fucking close to touching him. Why the fuck would she hate you.
I don’t know. But touching her, it- She’d swallowed, nails digging into Ben’s arm. It felt someone was pressing a gun right against my brain. And my hands were itchy, and my skin felt wrong, and it was bad, Ben. I didn’t like it.
That had been enough for him. Ben had been happy to hate Fake Face just from how the bitch made his perfect, infinitely amused and kind wife look like She’d been kicked in the stomach. Then there had been more pickups. Pickups where it was just Her, or just Ben, and Fake Face seemed to have two separate personalities. With Her, she was crude and cold, and they’d figured out fast that the lady was, at least, a Vought supporter. Likely a Homelander supporter as well. And Ben had been ready to snap some fucking spines when the flirting had started. Unwelcome praise about how Ben was such a good man, for being there for Ryan—he’d defiantly tried to kill Ryan, only two years ago, but Fake Face seemed to forget about that part—and calling him Soldier Boy before correcting herself to Ben with fake giggle that hurt Ben’s ears, and the questions about how a man like him got mixed up in this whole mess.
It seemed like a pretty fucking simple answer. Ben had fucked up, and he’d repented, and now he was here. Still repenting, still with Ryan, always with Her.
Then Fake Face had called him Benjamin, and—after nearly breaking his jaw and her face—Ben had started being incredibly fucking careful with the timing of how he picked up Ryan, just to avoid this pest of a woman and her skin-crawling advances on him. He knew She did the same thing, and that enough made Ben’s blood feel fucking heated and wired.
He knew his reputation. He knew that he was a sex symbol, that he’d been the fuel of wet dreams for a damn near century. He also knew that, if he could, he’d rip all those fucking fantasies out of people’s minds on principle alone. Ben was fucking Her’s, and you couldn’t pay him with all the gold in the world to look anywhere but Her. It would be pointless anyway, because Ben couldn’t look away from Her if he fucking tried. She was everything beautiful in the universe, and then more. She was a force of goddamn nature, and alive in Ben’s body, and if his eyes were gauged out and his nose was cut off he’d still feel how fucking beautiful she was in a deep, critical part of his body near his heart.
Ben needed to figure out a way to shut Fake Face up for the rest of her fucking life. He wasn’t allowed to kill her, and they were still being careful around the school, so he couldn’t call her a plastic, disrespectful fucking bitch, and those were all his ideas.
He’d ask Her later. She’d have a way that didn’t end in having to explain to Neuman why they’d had to send a cleanup team to a high school. 
Right now Ben just needed to stand—rigid and taut—as Fake Face walked up to him with a well-crafted, sickening smile and he waited for Ryan to get the fuck back to the pickup spot. 
“Ben!” Fake Face chirped, bouncing to stand right fucking in front of Ben’s path. “I haven’t seen you at pickup all week-“
“My wife,” Ben grunted Her name, because he was going to say it at every damn possible opportunity. “She’s been doing it.”’
“Hm, well, I haven’t seen her-“
Well, She fucking hates you. “She’s fast. Busy.”
Fake Face hummed, tapping a finger to her chin in mock thought. “Ah, I understand. I’m a career woman as well, but my Georgia is always my top priority-“
Ben wasn’t allowed to kill the bitch. His fists were clenched and the glow in his chest would just have to be slightly released to disintegrate Fake Face, but Ben wasn’t allowed to kill her. “Ryan is our top priority.” Ben grunted. “She just doesn’t have time to fucking gossip.”
“I see. Does she have time for you, Ben?”
His vision was red, and he refused to fucking answer. If he answered, he’d spit and roar and draw attention. He didn’t fucking need attention. He needed to take his son home to pick up his wife, then take them both to get a Christmas Tree. A big one, that Ben would put stupid rainbow lights on and She and Ryan would smile at.
Fake Face seemed to realize Ben wasn’t going to respond, and switched the topic with only a slight cough. “Are you getting each other gifts for Christmas? My ex husband and I never did, he said that it was-“
“We are.” Ben snapped. “Her idea.”
It had been Her idea. She’d grabbed his face between her hands and said Benjamin, I love you very much, and if we don’t get each other stupid gifts for Christmas, I’ll kick you in the balls. 
“Oh, well, if you need gift ideas-“
Ryan walked out of the school with some of the best timing Ben had ever goddamn seen, and something bright bloomed over Ben’s ribs as Ryan’s face split into a wide smile.
“Ben!” He shouted, closing the remaining space in only a few steps and pulling Ben into a likely bone-breaking hug. “You’re here!”
“Of course I’m fucking here,” Ben muttered, holding Ryan until the kid decided he’d had enough. “Butcher’s just a slow dumbfuck. Let’s go.”
Ryan nodded, starting past Ben to the parking lot, and Ben had almost entirely forgotten about Fake Face until she was grabbing his bicep, and he had to tense his every muscle to halt his instinct to slam her fucking head to the floor.
“What the fuck are you-“
Fake Face was giving him that cheap, twisted smile and those syrupy fucking words, not at all caring how she’d damn near just been killed. “Jewelry.”
Ben scowled, jerking his arm fully from her touch. “Speak fucking clearly-“
“Ladies love jewelry.” Fake Face said, giving Ben a pout that made her look constipated. “I’m sure your wife would love some.” Ben fucking loathes the way she said wife. Like it was a lie and not the only thing he’d ever been sure of. “And I’d love to help you pick some out for her.”
Ben looked Fake Face dead in the eye, not bothering to contain his disgust for her and that awful proposition, and never bothering to hide the sheer fucking pride and love that existed in his body for Her. He hoped She felt it back home, where Ben could sense her, peaceful and content and likely wearing one of Ben’s shirts. Maybe She’d ask Ben what he was doing, and he’d get to hear Her voice. Tell Her how he was defending her honor. 
“She doesn’t wear jewelry.” He snapped, his eyes narrowing. “She’d fucking burn it off when I made her cum. Waste of money.”
Fake Face gaped, and Ben didn’t bother to wait for her to speak before he marched after Ryan, clasping him on the shoulder and steering him fully back to the car. He might have just made shit worse. Ben knew there was a possibly that Fake Face would think he’d been flirting, and would keep trying stupid fucking moves. But Ben was pretty sure he’d also made it real fucking clear that he wasn’t planning on fucking anyone but Her ever again. That was the whole point of marrying Her. Making Her and the rest of the world really fucking get that they belonged to each other, and anyone who tried to take them away from each other should be prepared to face the goddamn consequences. Consequences Fake Face better fucking understand, because Ben was weak compared to Her. Everyone was weak compared to Her. If She wanted to, she could burn out the sky. 
If She had been present for that conversation, Fake Face might have ended up a husk of a bitch on the pavement. It was why Ben only told Her about this shit when they were in their room, where all She’d do is scowl and pout and glare at him, then start to climb up Ben’s body as She kissed him like she was trying to leave a mark. She knew there wasn’t a damn thing to worry about—Ben made fucking sure of it—but that didn’t stop Her from grinding in his lap or clawing at his chest when he finger fucked Her.
It was just another fucking perfect thing about Her. How She was a terrifyingly brilliant, sharp woman who adored the whole world, and She went slack and blissful under only Ben’s touch. How She wanted him, wanted Ben so fucking much she’d get all fucking angry at the idea of him being looked at.
“You’re a fucking person,” She’d grumbled once, Her face buried in Ben’s chest. “It’s, it’s rude-“
“I’m well fucking aware that I’m a person,” Ben had drawled Her name, tilting her chin up so she could see his teasing smirk. “I think you’re just possessive.”
She’d flushed. “I’m not possessive-“
“You are.” Ben had muttered, and leaned down to ghost one, soft kiss over her lip. “It’s fucking hot.”
It was. It made Ben’s whole body buzz and hum and fucking glow, that he was wanted enough for Her to be possessive. Not his body or name or image, Ben. Ben was fucking loved enough that She lost her damn mind when people acted like he was just a face. And then She’d turn around a call him Pretty Boy, and beg him to fuck Her, and it was so much goddamn better because She was the one doing it. 
And Ben fucking loved Her. His whole fucking life was Her and Ryan. His whole damn purpose wasn’t Fake Face, it was finally getting that fucking tree. It was letting Ryan chose the tree—as long as it was a proper, green, massive fucking pine tree, Ben didn’t fucking care what it looked like—and telling Her about Fake Face as She was tucked into his side. It was making fun of that bitch with Her, and setting up the tree when they got home so Ben could get the lights up. It was seeing how beautiful She’d be into the shifting colors, how She’d probably look like some sort of fucking siren or painting when she was cast in shadows under the glow.
It was about finally having something so fucking good, and caring for it, and never goddamn losing it.
“How was school, kid.” Ben asked, dropping behind the wheel as Ryan pulled his buckle on. “Any shit I should know about-“
“No!” Ryan shook his head, his smile never faltering. “It was a really good day, Ben. We’re learning about Feudal Japan, did you know one of the first ever novels was written by a handmaiden?”
“No, I don’t fucking read. But,” Ben pushed on, before Ryan even had a chance to frown. “I damn near didn’t finish school. You’re a hell of a lot fucking smarter than that. Keep talking.”
Ryan didn’t keep talking, and when Ben glances at him he had a soft, nervous expression.
“What-“
Ryan mumbled Her name. “She said not to let you call yourself stupid.”
Ben snorted. “Fucking sounds like her. I’m fine kid-“
“But you’re not stupid!” Ryan protested. “You taught me how to use my powers! And how to grill! And about chemicals! I passed my science test because of that.” Ben could see Ryan’s chest puff slightly in his periphery. “Mr. Kline said he’d never seen someone eat the samples, not need to go to the nurse, and get a hundred percent.”
It was hard for Ben to fight the small grin on his face, and damn near impossible to stop the flash of pride through his body. “Fine. Tell me about the stupid fucking book.”
Ryan seemed satisfied, launching into a history lesson Ben really fucking tried to listen to, but didn’t understand a damn word of. He was practiced at this, though. Between Her and Ryan, Ben was a fucking master at grunting at all the right moments, nodding and shrugging like he got what they were saying, and letting them tire themselves out. Then he’d ask a few questions because it made their faces light up with joy, stash a few of their answers just to prove that really did fucking try. For them, Ben would always fucking try.
And She must have felt it. How Ben’s entire body was focused on Her, on Ryan, because She became colorful and alive around his head as Her perfect, musical voice hummed in his head.
You’re late, Benjamin. 
Blame Butcher and Ice Lady.
Ice Lady?
Ice Lady. Ben repeated, frowning into the air. With the fucking ice-
Powers? Ice Lady with the ice powers? Ben could almost see Her pretty, teasing smile, and he rolled his eyes.
Brat.
Cunt. What did Butcher do?
Asshole was pussying around when we turn Ice Lady over. Made me fucking late to get Ryan.
But you-
I got him. Ben glanced over to Ryan, who had settled into his seat with an easy silence, bobbing his head slightly to the radio. He’s good.
Did you-
No incidents. Said today was good.
And-
He told me about his classes. Going well. Ben smirked at the road. Your faith in me is fucking astounding, Sunshine.
She scoffed between their heads. Fuck you, Ben, I’m just worried about him-
He’s fine. And I’d be happy to fuck you, beautiful, but you’re going to have to keep it together until tonight. Think you’ll survive?
You’re such an asshole. 
You love me.
I do, you dummy. She sighed in the hum of the engine. Drive faster. I’m bored.
Ben grunted, and pressed the pedal down. He’d still be safe—Ryan was in the car, and Ben’s own need to see Her didn’t outweigh the kid’s safety—but he wanted to get the fuck home. Back to Her.
She was waiting in the driveway when they pulled in. Ben hadn’t even stopped the car when she moved to stand at the driver’s side, hugging herself as She waited.
She looked so fucking happy. Just as beautiful as She’d always been, just as perfect, but fucking happy. Bouncing slightly on Her toes as Ben grunted that Ryan should go put his shit away before they left, smiling at them through the window in such an easy, natural way it made Ben’s chest feel soft. Made him goddamn glow.
He’d barely stepped out of the car when She was on him. Pulling Ben down by his shirt into a long, deep kiss, sighing into his mouth when he picked Her up off the ground, and wrapping Her arms around his neck when they pulled apart.
“Hi,” She whispered, her smile all joy and adoration that made Ben fucking high. “Ready to get a tree?”
“Fucking born it.” Ben nipped at Her nose, carefully setting Her back down on the pavement. “I’m driving.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “You can’t stop me-“
Ben gave Her an amused, flat look. “I could very fucking easily stop you, Sunshine.”
Her eyes narrowed as he raised his brows in a silent challenge. Big talk, Pretty Boy- 
You know it’s not just talk, beautiful. He winked at Her, holding Her gaze. You’re not fucking driving.
But-
No. Ben kissed Her brow, grinning against her skin. Not a chance in damn hell.
Asshole.
Yep.
She rolled her eyes, leaning into his side and frowning at the front door of their house. Is Ryan okay? I know you said he had a good day-
He’s fine, Ben muttered Her name, shifting her against his chest and wrapping his arms around Her stomach. Fucking bounced out of the school like it was his damn birthday. Saved my ass as well.
Saved your ass? She tilted Her head back, frowning up at him. What-
Fake Face. Ben grunted, and She sighed. I still think you should let me fucking kill the bitch-
No murder, Ben. Not very Christmas spirit of you. She tapped her fingers on his arm, offering him a small smile. And I kind of like that these are our problems now. I can handle someone throwing themselves at you. And I get it. 
Ben raised his brows. You get it?
Yeah. She shrugged, dropping Her head back on his shoulder, and Ben could feel all Her love rushing through his body. I mean, you’re very fucking pretty, my love. I’d throw myself at you.
He snorted. No, you fucking wouldn’t.
Yes I would-
Don’t lie, Sunshine. Ben held Her pouting glare with a smirk. You never fucking threw yourself at me, you barely damn liked me. 
I liked you, She mumbled between their heads. I love you, Ben-
I love you too, brat, but you were never that pathetically annoying and desperate. You never fucking needed to be, he squeezed his arms around Her, kissing her brow and muttering Her name in the wind. You already have me.
She smiled at him, kissing the underside of his jaw. Very romantic, Benjamin.
He rolled his eyes, dropping his face to Her neck, sucking on that one spot. Shut up.
Even as She molded into him, whimpering slightly as Ben kissed up her neck and behind her ear, Ben knew She was fucking right. It was a damn good thing that the worst shit in their lives right now was Fake Face and Ryan getting changed so damn slowly. Not life or death, no screaming or blood, just Her swaying in Ben’s arms and his whole body feeling fucking alive in her presence. And neither of those worst things would be difficult to deal with. Fake Face was just an annoying bitch, and Ryan was finished in the next five minutes. Ben lived a life where he could kiss his wife until She was slack jawed and glossy eyed, guide her into the passenger’s seat of their care, and get his family out of the driveway before She had a chance to start thinking again. Now the worst problems were that they needed that goddamn tree, and Ben had to ignore Her pretty glare as he drove them to the farm.
You cheated. She grumbled in his head, playing with his hand in Her’s, and Ben smirked.
I don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about, Sunshine. I’d never fucking cheat, I’m a goddamn gentleman-
Fuck you-
Not with Ryan in the car, darling. Ben’s grin became toothy and wide as She stuck her tongue out at him, his attention turning to Ryan’s pale face in the rearview mirror. “You good back there, kid?”
“Yeah, I’m just, um-“ Ryan swallowed, his heart a little uneven. “I’ve never gotten a Christmas tree before? Do we have to do anything?”
She twisted in Her seat, giving Ryan a sweet smile and soft words. “You don’t have to do anything. If you see one you like, tell us, and we’ll take care of the rest of it.”
Ben squeezed Her thigh as he glanced back at Ryan. “It’s real damn easy, kid. You’ll be fine.”
“What if I, what if I pick the wrong one-“
“It’s a fucking tree.” Ben gave Ryan a firm look through the mirror. “Long as it fits in the house and has branches, it can’t be wrong.”
Ryan nodded slowly. “Mom always got lights for our tree-“
“We got lights, Ryan.” 
She blinked at Ben. “We do? When did we-“
“Last week.” He grunted. “When you were off doing your mystery shit.” Which you still haven’t fucking told me about-
And I won’t until it’s relevant, Pretty Boy. “Ryan,” She frowned into the air, tapping Her finger’s over Ben’s hand. “Was that enough for shopping? Because I need to go back to Best Buy for Secret Santa-“
Ben shot Her a look, his brows drawn together. “I thought you finished that shit.”
“No, I got your gift,” She gave him a sweet smile. “This is for-“ She cut herself off, and Ben rolled his eyes. She wasn’t fucking fooling him, she’d been nowhere close to slipping up. “I can’t tell you-“
“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He raised Her hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to Her knuckles. “Ryan, tell her about that book shit.”
Ryan’s face lit up, and Ben only got a light whack on his knee as she twisted to listen to Ryan’s repeated lecture about the Japanese lady and her book. She’d, apparently, already fucking known about the book, because of fucking course She did. The rest of the car ride was a conversation Ben tried—and fucking failed—to keep up with, and when they parked the sun had already dropped out of the sky, leaving them some of the last fuckers wandering the farm. 
It was better like that. Ryan could wander—Ben keeping a careful ear on his heartbeat—Ben could keep Her tucked safely under his arm as She lit a careful fire in her palm, and none of them had to worry about invasive fucking pussies trying to talk to them. Ryan and Ben could even throw snow at each other without worrying about accidentally murdering someone. 
“If I get hit,” She mumbled, her head leaning on Ben’s chest. “I’ll kick your ass, Pretty Boy.”
Ben snorted, another ball of snow already in his fist as he scanned over the tree line, waiting for Ryan’s next strike. “What if fucking Ryan hits you, you’re not going to kick his ass-“
“Is it Ryan’s job to protect me?”
Ben gave Her an amused grin as she blinked at him with fake fucking innocence. “You’ve got a smart fucking mouth, brat-“
She shrugged. “You love it- Ben!”
He’d hauled Her up his chest, swallowing her squeak of surprise with a deep, sloppy kiss and turning his body to take the bullet of Ryan’s snowball.
“Fuck, Ben, I’m sorry-“
She and Ben both pulled back from each other with wide eyes, and Ben grunted as She half-climbed up his body to stare at Ryan. 
“Did you just say fuck?”
“Um,” Ryan’s voice was far too damn nervous, his heart rapid, and when Ben adjusted his body to see the kid, he was flushed and gaping. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry-“
“I’m not mad, Ry,” She pushed out of Ben’s hold, offering Ryan a reassuming smile. “I just didn’t expect it.”
“Am I,” Ryan looked between Her and Ben with wide eyes. “Am I allowed to swear-“
“Of course you’re fucking allowed to swear,” Ben grunted, pulling Her back under his arm. “Do we look like goddamn hypocrite pussies to you, kid?”
“No?”
“Then swear as much as you fucking want. But,” Ben raised a finger, narrowing his eyes at Ryan. “You have to go find that tree.”
Ryan nodded, and his heart sounding a little more steady, and bounced back into the trees.
When Ben looked back to Her, she was smiling at him. A real, loving, soft smile that made Ben’s whole body pound and riot with Her. Just fucking Her. 
What-
You’re a good dad, Ben. Her smile widened, so fucking adoring it might kill him.
It’s not that big a damn deal-
No. She held Ben’s hand over her shoulders, letting him guide them after Ryan. It is. You’re an amazing, handsome, grumpy old dad. Ryan and I are very lucky to have you.
Ben only grunted, because he was fucking lucky to have them. For them to forgive him enough to let him stay, to offer him their trust and love when they were the only two, truly fucking good people in the world. Whatever.
She glared at him, but let it go, and they walked in silence for another few minutes—Ben’s whole existence only Her and Ryan’s heartbeats, just as fucking calm as they should always be—until she tugged on his arm.
I got an early gift for you, by the way.
What-
Butcher. I figured out what you can get him. I’ll show you when we get home.
Ben frowned into the dark. You’re getting his, and mine, and your secret fucker, and shit for Ryan.
Yeah. She shrugged. But those last three were really easy.
He raised his brows. Your secret shit was easy.
She hummed. Yep. My person’s really predictable, and loud about what they like. You just have to be around them for five minutes and you’d have figured it out as well.
It’s MM.
I’m not going to tell-
Annie.
Ben-
Hughie.
She sighed. Ben, I’m not telling you.
Ben narrowed his eyes at Her. It’s fucking Hughie.
I said I’m not telling you, cunt. She whacked his chest lightly. So shut the fuck up and drop it.
It was defiantly fucking Hughie. And Ben would’ve gotten Her to admit it—with enough teasing words, grumbled praise, and long kisses Ben could get Her to tell him fucking anything—but Ryan reappeared with a wide, bright expression.
“I found it!” He bounced on his toes, grinning between Her and Ben. “It’s that way, and it’s really big and spiky.”
She nodded, tilting Her head at the direction Ryan had pointed to. “Ben, if you go with Ryan, I can go find the tree-cutter people-“
Ben scoffed, keeping Her pressed against his side. “Don’t be fucking insane, Sunshine. Let’s go, kid.”
Ryan glanced at Her—Her attention focused on Ben with a heat he could feel over his ribs—but started walking, Ben pulling Her after him.
Ben-
I can get the tree, he muttered Her name, glancing down as he squeezed his hold on Her. We don’t need some pussy with a fucking saw.
Are you-
I’m fucking positive. He kissed the top of her head. Trust me.
She sighed, but nodded, and grew loose and easy in Ben’s body.
And he was right. Ryan presented the tree to them—he’d done a damn good job, and when Ben told him so the kid lit up like the fucking sun—and Ben barely grunted as he ripped it out of the ground.
He started moving without a damn word, supporting it on one shoulder, and smirked at Her open, pretty fucking gape as he twined his free hand into Her’s. Her heart was fluttering in Her chest, her beautiful face slack with need, and Ben felt something in his chest try to pound out of him, into Her.
Don’t fucking drool, Sunshine. He winked at Her, waiting for Ryan to be in his view before he started the walk back, and She just swallowed, Her voice breathless between their heads.
Fuck you-
I will, darling. When we get home I’ll throw you around as much as you fucking want. He shifted his grip on the tree, and felt his dick twitch as She half slumped into his body, her gaze pure fucking love and want. Swear it.
Ben never got to throw Her around. She’d nodded, tugging Ben to walk a little faster, and paid for the tree with  fingers tapping on the counter, but they’d barely made it halfway back to the house before She was asleep in the car. It wasn’t even that fucking late, but Ben saw Her body slump in the passenger’s seat—Her presence in his head turning into a natural, eternal and peaceful glow of beauty—and heard Her heartbeat slow a moment later. When he glanced in the rearview mirror, Ryan was knocked the fuck out as well, and he smiled. 
He left the tree on the roof when they got home, and got them both to bed. He unbuckled Ryan first—She’d kill Ben if he left Ryan in the cold car alone—and carried him up to his room with careful steps. 
“Ryan,” he muttered, setting the kid carefully on the bed. “Ryan, wake the fuck up.”
Ryan’s eyes blinked open, still clouded with sleep. “Ben, wha…” He trailed off with a yawn, and Ben sighed.
“Need to get changed, kid. And brush your teeth.”
“What’s goin’ on-“
“You’re going to bed.” Ben grunted. “But you’re not doing it in fucking ice-covered clothing. Change.”
Ryan nodded slowly, starting to shuffle around the room, and Ben returned to the car.
She was so fucking beautiful. There were glittering drops of melted snow on Her eyelashes, and her mouth was parted as a small amount of drool fell from Her perfect lips. He swiped his thumb over it, She barely stirred, and Ben realized she was knocked the fuck out. And he wouldn’t be waking Her up for the fucking world.
Ben carried Her upstairs—just as he’d done with Ryan—but when he reached their room he set Her down carefully, and stripped her himself. Careful slow movements that didn’t disturb her, changing Her into his shirt—not bothering with underwear—and tucking Her under their covers before going to check on Ryan.
The kid had passed out without turning his lights off or getting under the covers. Ben fixed both of those things, brushed some hair from Ryan’s forehead, and checked on that stupid fucking turtle so Ryan wouldn’t wake up to it dead. It was sleeping under a sun lamp with a damn worry in the world, and had more than enough food to last into the next three damn years. Ryan had been keeping his word, and the thing was growing like a fucking monster. And the kid seemed to damn love it, so Ben gave it a little fucking extra food as a silent, stupid thanks for doing whatever the hell it was doing to make Ryan smile.
She was still asleep when Ben returned. Curled into his side of the bed, Her face pressed into his pillow, and soft, incoherent mumbles falling out of Her mouth until Ben joined Her. She let out a blissful sigh as he pulled Her into his arms and tangled his legs with Hers, her pretty face buried in his chest and that flower shampoo she used like a goddamn drug. Making his body relax, because it was right where it should be, and his brain lull into an easy sleep.
Easy fucking sleep he’d get to wake up from in the morning without screams or tears, with his perfect wife still clinging to his body and all Her love alive inside of him. She’d get that promised fucking when She woke up as well, and he’d make everyone pancakes for breakfast, then drive Ryan to school. He’d grab the tree when he got back, wait for Ryan to get home before he put up the lights, and She’d watch them both with a smile before telling Ben what he should get Butcher.
Then it would be Christmas, and he’d get to give Her his goddamn amazing gift, and She’d kiss him, and everything would be so fucking good.
Ben’s life was really fucking good.
End Note: I don’t care if they don’t sell turtles at Costco in my universe they do.
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xogiulianna · 2 days ago
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PLAYING DANGEROUS
you want to try something new - making you turn to your best friend, chris, for help.
contains : slapping, choking, masturbation, slight dacryphilia
you're not sure why you were so susceptible to these urges, but they were strong and distracting, occupying your thoughts constantly.
they got so intrusive that it came to a point where you couldn't act normal, not even around one of your closest friends.
you were over at the triplets' house one friday night, per usual, watching a movie with chris.
he had already begun interrupting the film after merely ten minutes of watching, just because he wanted to ramble about his 'bright' idea of having a pillow fight, like how it happens in the cliché movie sleepovers.
eventually, you agreed, just to shut him up.
your fight started out normal, the living room filled with the sound of laughter and pillows thudding against bodies.
after a few strikes, you have a moment of weakness. your arms had already gotten tired from hitting chris constantly, while simultaneously trying to dodge his attacks.
taking advantage of your weariness, chris rips your pillow out of your grasp, tossing it onto the floor, too far away for you to reach.
"not fair!" you exclaim, trying to scramble past chris to retrieve your weapon, but he lightly shoves your shoulder, pushing you down into the corner of the couch.
"got ya," he chuckles, smiling down at you devilishly as he kneels above you, his arm retracting behind him with the pillow clutched in his hand.
not wanting to get hit in the face, you quickly reach out and yank the cushion out of his hand and down into your lap - just as he begins to bring his arm down in the direction of your head.
a crack echoes throughout the room, the noise bouncing off the walls and making your mind spin.
"oh, my god- no, fuck, are you okay?"
your head is knocked to the side, a fiery stinging sensation exploding across your cheek, every nerve ending in your face tingling with raw pain.
"shit.. hey, look at me, i’m so sorry.."
you sit frozen in shock, forcing your eyes open after you wired them shut on impact.
"let me see.."
wincing slightly at the gentle touch of chris’s hand on your face, your eyes shift over to him. his expression is etched with worry as he examines the red blotch blooming across your cheek where his hand had struck you.
"damn it, kid. it was an accident.. only meant for the pillow to hit you, i swear."
a wave of humiliation washes over you notice that your eyes have gotten all watery from the sheer impact and intensity of the shock that coursed through your body.
"come on, don't cry." chris murmurs softly, his eyes flitting across your features.
you sniffle, shaking your head and snapping yourself out of the dazed state you were enveloped in.
"no, chris, stop." you say, shoving past him and getting up off the couch. "it's fine."
ignoring his persuasions to come back, you quickly rush down the hall to the bathroom, shutting yourself in. you stare back at your reflection in the mirror, bringing your fingertips up to lightly graze the sensitive mark on your cheek.
in the small room, you feel suffocated. all of the emotions and feelings you’re experiencing at once are weighing down on your shoulders, making your brain feel fuzzy.
you feel hurt, obviously - chris is pretty strong. naturally, your face is still irritated from the blow he landed on your skin.
however - you're sure that chris would never do something like this on purpose, you can tell by the way he was so quick to become completely apologetic, inspecting the damage he’d done.
this.. made you frustrated.
deep down, something’s burning inside you, something filthy, something you want to indulge in.
your gaze is fixated on yourself in the mirror, analyzing your red face and your heaving chest as you inhale shallow, labored breaths.
you try to ignore the heat pooled in your stomach. you didn’t want to like this.
chris is your best friend, and he’s good looking, you knew that, but you’ve never had any sexual feelings towards him. plus, it was an accident.
so why is your body practically trembling with want? with the need for more?
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it’s been several days since last friday. you’ve been ignoring chris’ texts and calls. you left him to assume that you were just angry with him for hitting you - and part of you truly was infuriated, because if he hadn’t done that, you’d have been able to focus on anything else except the incident.
you finally gave in after chris started forcing his two brothers to start texting you, checking up on you, asking you to come over.
upon arriving at his house, just seeing his face when he opened the door reminded you of your darkest desires, making you silently curse yourself for having no willpower anymore.
chris notices your demeanor, asks you what’s wrong, and you panic. you immediately usher him into his bedroom, wanting to avoid the lingering presences of nick and matt throughout the house.
"kid- what’re you doin'?" chris grumbles as you shove him through the doorway, closing you two in the room with a slam of the door. "i told you, im real sorry, i didn’t mean to hit you-"
"chris, just shut up for a second," you snap. he’s apologized numerous times, you knew he was sorry, you knew that he felt bad.
but you didn’t want him to feel like that.
you didn’t want him to be apologetic, because the ugly truth is that you liked it. you wanted to experience the sensation again, properly.
chris is just standing and staring at you, face twisted into utter confusion. you’ve never seriously lost your temper with him before.
"i’m not mad at you," you clarify, sighing and walking over to sit yourself down on his bed.
"okay.." chris says carefully, sitting down with you, the edge of the mattress dipping underneath his weight. "then what’s got you acting like this?"
you pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. you can hardly believe what you’re about to say, but you just can’t keep it a secret.
you and chris don’t lie to each other; however, you don’t normally get serious like this. everything is lighthearted between you two - making this situation all the more stressful.
"promise me.." you speak hesitantly. "if i tell you, that you won’t get weirded out?"
chris quickly shakes his head, his interest piqued even further. "no, i promise. y’can tell me anything."
exhaling another long sigh, you fight an entire war in your mind in the span of a few seconds. heat crawls up your neck, the walls feeling like they’ll close in around you if you don’t speak up. just say it. just tell him.
"i can’t stop thinking about how it felt."
"what?" chris’ brows drop, his eyes scrutinizing you. you look down, trying to hide the red tint spreading across your cheeks. your eyes fixate firmly on your lap as you toy with the hem of your shirt.
"what do you mean?" chris questions. your pulse rings in your ears, each thump of your heart making your torso twitch.
"i mean, it made me.." your breathing becomes shallow, your voice struggling to speak your mind as the words crumble in your mouth.
forcing yourself to look up at him, you make yourself spit the words out.
"i want you to do it again."
chris' lips part, his eyes darkening. "nah, you’re messin' with me. that isn’t funny." he rasps.
you shake your head. "i’m not, chris. i swear."
"that's crazy, i don't.." he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "you’re killin’ me here, i.. i’m not gonna hit y-"
"please," you whisper, cutting his rejection off. "i just need to feel it one more time."
chris' fingers twitch, his tongue running across the inside of his cheek. he stares blankly at you for a moment, making you want to melt into his bed and disappear forever.
just as you're about to take everything back - tell him to just forget about it and rush out of his room, he reaches out towards you.
grabbing your chin in one hand, he coaxes you to lean back on his bed, giving your shoulder a gentle push with his other hand. his knee comes to settle between your legs, his body slanted towards yours.
"you're playin' dangerous, you know that?" chris growls, moving his thumb to brush across your cheek, right over the same spot he landed the accidental blow just days ago. "you’re really askin' me to hurt you?"
you only nod in response, staring up at him - seeing your best friend in a completely new light. noticing lust in his eyes for the first time, it made you question everything.
"nah," he smirks, shaking his head. "need you to tell me how bad you want it. lemme hear you."
you were starstuck by his words, his low voice echoing in your mind and bouncing off your bones, sending electric shocks through your body.
"chris, i- we don't have to.." you breathe out, the situation suddenly feeling a little too real.
"mm-mm," he hums teasingly. "you got yourself into this, doll." he trails his hand down to your throat, wrapping his fingers around your throat, but not quite squeezing. "go on, tell me what you want from me."
"i.." you swallow harshly, eyes wildly searching chris' face as your pupils become swallowed in black, giving away your desire immediately. "i want you to.."
"c'mon, you said you’ve been thinkin' about it, so tell me. use your words." he says, his voice dripping with poison.
"want you to hit me," you mutter. "i just.. please, chris?"
"fuckin’ pathetic," chris laughs, rolling his eyes before suddenly lifting his hand, his open palm connecting with your cheek so hard it feels like your brain rattled in your skull.
he grins at your startled reaction, the way you’re looking at him him with such a desperate expression - it only spurs him on. you barely register the pain spreading across your skin, you’re too enamored by this new version of chris.
"this what you wanted?" he asks, his tone unforgiving as his hand tightens around your neck. "want me to rough you up a lil' bit, huh?”
you snag your lip inbetween your teeth, biting down hard as you nod, whining in the back of your throat. your insides feel like they’re on fire, your thighs squeezing together as you anticipate the next hit.
"who knew you were such a slut?" he hisses, striking your face harder the second time - earning a moan out of you.
"oh my god," you whimper, your face colliding with the pillow you’re laying on from the impact of the second hit.
the lower half of your body shifts uncomfortably, the aching between your thighs becoming so intense that it’s clouding your brain. your jaw clenches bitterly.
chris notices how you’re trying to press your legs together, a groan rumbling in his chest. "god.. how fuckin' wet are you right now?" he snarls.
your skin is burning hot with embarrassment, and having to admit how turned on you are only makes it worse. you’re too flustered at this point to actually say anything, so you decide to visually tell him.
with shaky hands, you find the waistband of your sweatpants, lifting up your hips to tug them halfway down your thighs, not even bothering to get them fully off. chris drinks in the sight of you with hunger, his gaze landing on the wet area of your panties where your arousal has soaked through.
"fuck, you really like this." he whispers ardently, slipping his hand between your legs. his touch is feather-light as he brushes his fingertips up your inner thighs and across your clothed pussy. you shudder, a soft whine slipping out of your throat, strangled by chris' film hold on your neck.
"show me." he mutters.
"what?" you choke out, squirming under his piercing stare.
"wanna see just how much you're enjoying it when i hit you." he says, hooking a finger in your underwear. he tugs them down in one harsh motion, eliciting a gasp from you. "touch yourself." he orders, his tone hushed.
tossing aside all your dignity, you skate your fingers down your stomach and to your core, plunging into your slick folds. staring up at chris apprehensively, you rub slow circles on your clit, fingertips soaked by your own juices.
"so eager to listen to me, huh?" he quips, releasing his hold on your neck to cradle your face securely instead. his other hand travels to your hip and obtains a bruising grip on your body, holding you still.
you start to moan while stimulating yourself, but the noise is cut short by another smack. then another, and another - each one making you even more aroused than the last.
"chris," you cry out, your back arching up off the bed. your fingers start aching as you uncontrollably increase your pace, touching yourself with an intense fervor. the right side of your face burns with the building pain of each hit, making your eyes flood with tears.
"too much?" he murmurs, grabbing your face and inspecting the pretty red color blossoming across the area he's been targeting. "you're cryin', kid." he licks his lips, watching as a droplet slips down the side of your face, dripping into your hair.
"no, it's so good- i.." you whisper urgently, your voice shaky and breathless. "keep.. keep going, m'gonna finish already.."
"good," chris purrs, gently stroking your cheek, watching you writhe beneath him for a few moments before giving the same amount of attention to the other side of your face - backhanding your left cheek, his knuckles clashing with your supple skin.
his dick twitches in his boxers at the sight of plump tears gliding down your scarlet cheeks.
"oh, my- fuck!" you mewl, your face screwing up in pure euphoria as the twisted knot in your lower stomach tensing, your abdomen tensing as you start to mentally rip apart at the seams.
"that's it," chris hisses. "cum on your fingers f'me, dirty girl." he hovers over you, threading one hand in your hair as he lands a final hit across your face right as you climax. your body convulses while an animalistic groan is ripped from your throat, turning into a breathy whine. your release leaks out from your entrance, soaking your fingers and dripping down to the bedsheets.
you collapse into a flushed, gasping mess against chris' bed, your eyes pinched shut in euphoria. your pussy throbs, your whole body feeling extra sensitive after your mind-bending orgasm.
once the moment is over, it's like chris reverts back into a friend instead of - whatever role he was just playing.
"uh, shit." he murmurs, pushing himself off the bed, wincing as it finally registers that he has a painful erection that's formed in his pants. "yeah- stay here, um, let me.." he trails off, rushing out of his bedroom.
he wants to get you an icepack - but if his brothers saw him retrieving it, they'd probably question him about it. he settles for a cloth soaked with cold water for your face, and a separate one to clean up the mess you made.
returning to his room, he fights back a groan at the downright goddess-esque state he left you in - half dressed, laying limp on the bed with a thin layer of sweat coating your flushed skin, your hair frizzy and splayed out across his pillows.
"here," he offers the cold cloth to you, swallowing thickly as he sits on the edge of the bed and gently cleans the slick coating your folds and the insides of your thighs. you press the chilly, damp material to your stinging face, sighing shakily at the stark contrasting sensation. you allow chris to take care of you, his movements slow and tender as he pulls your underwear and sweatpants back up to cover yourself.
"thank you," you murmur, silently paying that the uneasiness of this odd situation won't affect your friendship negatively.
"yeah, no problem," chris responds softly, moving himself up the bed to lay down next to you. "next time you wanna try somethin', don't wait so long, 'kay?" he asks, a grin crossing his lips.
"next time?" you question, your brows quirking as you look over at him.
"well," he chuckles. "after seein' you like that.. i don't think i can just let this be a one-time thing."
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a/n : this took me forever omg i haven't tried writing anything like this before !! i'm sorry if there's any mistakes or parts that don't really make sense. i hope this is sufficient for the sturniolo fans hahah all their writers on here are so so amazing
xo giulia
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vanillarosekiss · 14 hours ago
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Hi lovie! May i request something? Can you write angst to comfort with simon or john? Love me some ex to lover or just like another chance romance where the boys are grovelling teehee
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Of course I can, angel!♡ I hope you like this, I'm so sorry that it's late. I really wanted to make it more angsty at the beginning and sweet at the end so enjoy.
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What Remains ₊˚⊹♡
Warnings: angsty, simon being a bit of a prick tbh, fluff at the end.
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The dreaded knock came late—sharp and deliberate, breaking the silence of your small apartment. You weren’t expecting anyone at this time, but the minute you opened the door and saw him standing there, everything froze.
Simon.
He looked the same, but so different. The mask was gone, but his darkening aura stayed the same. He didn’t say anything; he stared at you like he wasn’t sure you’d let him speak.
“What do you want?” you said, voice harsher than you expected.
“I came to talk,” he muttered, his voice low, almost hesitant, “To apologise.”
You let out a harsh laugh and crossed your arms.
“Talk? Now? After you walked out of my life without a word? Months, Simon. Months. And now you want to talk?”
“I know,” he said quickly, his tone defensive, as if bracing for impact.
“I know I fucked up.”
“Fucked up?” You stepped back, gesturing wildly, “No, Simon. You didn’t just ‘fuck up.’ You destroyed me. Do you even get that?”
He winced, his lips pressing into a hard line. “I left to keep you safe. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit,” you snapped. “You always have a choice. You just didn’t want to deal with me, so you made the easiest one. Don’t pretend you did it for me.”
His head snapped up at that, and for the first time, you saw something crack in him.
“You think it was easy? Leaving you? That it didn’t tear me apart every time i thought about it?”
“Sure looked easy from where I was standing,” you fired back. You knew it wasn’t like that, but you had lost it with him now.
“I was trying to protect you,” he said, voice harder now, colder. It was like he went back to who he was in the field, merciless and cruel.
“Do you have any idea the kind of shit that follows me? The kind of danger I drag around? I left because I didn’t want you caught in the crossfire. You know I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to you.”
“Protect me?” You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s rich, Simon. Did you ever stop to think about how it felt on my end? Not knowing if you were dead, alive, or just done with me? You didn’t protect me. You abandoned me.”
That word hit him like a slap. His jaw clenched, and something in his expression shifted, turning darker. “You think I wanted to do that? That it didn’t fucking kill me to walk away? I was trying to do the right thing.”
“Yeah, well, you failed,” you shot back. “Congratulations. All you did was prove I meant nothing to you.”
He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You think you meant nothing? Christ, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I thought about you every fucking day. Do you know how many times I wanted to pick up the phone? To come back? But I couldn’t.”
“Why? Why couldn’t you?” you demanded, your voice breaking. You didn’t want to get emotional with him but you couldn’t help it.
“What stopped you? What could possibly be worse than what you did to me?”
Simon’s voice dropped, “Because I was scared, alright? Scared I’d lose you for good. Scared you’d get hurt because of me.”
You stared at him, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. For a small moment, neither of you said anything, just stood there in the wreckage of everything unsaid.
“You broke me, Simon. You left me with nothing. And now you just show up, expecting me to forgive you?”
“I don’t expect your forgiveness,” he said, his tone softer now, the fight draining out of him. “I just… I couldn’t stay away anymore. I had to try. Even if you want to slam the door in my face, I’ll take it, but I needed you to know I’m sorry. For all of it.”
You felt your resolve cracking, the anger giving way to something else—something just as painful.
“You don’t get to do this to me,” you whispered. “You don’t get to come back like this and try to undo everything I’ve been through.”
“I know,” he said gently. “But I can’t let you go without a fight. Just because I left doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore.”
Your arms hung limp at your sides, the weight of his words crushing you. You couldn’t tell if you were angry at him or just upset.
“I know I’ve been a prick, baby, trust me I know. And I hate myself for ever doing this to you. I wasn’t thinking properly. Fuck, I just- ”. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.
He looked… lost? Like he didn’t know how to fix this, and it tugged at something deep inside you, even through the anger.
“Simon,” you said quietly, your voice softer now.
His hand dropped, and he looked at you, the raw emotion in his eyes catching you off guard. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you if you let me,” he whispered. “I just want you back. Please.”
The sincerity in his voice broke you, and you couldn’t even get a moment to second-guess yourself.
“One chance, Simon. That’s all you’re getting.”
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Guys i fear this is one of the best things i’ve written (my favourite). And it’s actually proof-read because i could be asked to get the grammar correct!! So proud. Thank you anon for this lovely, lovely request `౨ৎ~
Tag list: @soapisgod @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @caro-line19  @decaffeinateddelusionbread @poohkie90 @senoritaleeda @xoxoxoaspen @i-ship-stony-and-superfamily @simonrileysdarling @angelica456
Please lmk if you’d like to be removed or added to the tag list, I won’t take any offence!
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Yet again I am away from my computer and nonetheless compelled to write jaytim as though my life depended upon it
This is a snippet that will... probably(?) go in Chained at some point so spoiler warning for below the cut, but it should be funny enough on its own for folks who aren't interested in that to enjoy it too 👍
Dick carefully punches in the codes to disable Tim's second story window alarms and comes in out of the late December chill. He's not being particularly stealthy, since all he's here to do is drop off a small present before Christmas - but then he hears Tim and someone who sounds suspiciously like exiled-from-Gotham-and-totally-disappeared-off-face-of-Earth Jason, and decides to switch to maximum stealth instead.
They're standing around in Tim's kitchen (which actually looks well used for once) sharing coffee. Jason's striped down to nothing but boxers and Tim is draped in an oversized shirt that leaves it a mystery as to weather or not he's got anything covering his ass. Something about the way Tim is looking at Jason's chest makes him uncomfortable.
He's expecting Jason to be uncomfortable with it too and snap at him for staring at his scars - instead when Jason notices Tim's gaze, he smiles smugly and makes his pecs bounce.
Dick silently recoils in shock, while Tim blushes a bright red and thwaps Jason with a hand towel.
"You're supposed to say 'my eyes are up here'!"
"Hey, normally I would, but we both know that these..." He gestures lasciviously to his chest. "Are the only things keeping your eyes from wandering down here." He gestures the same way down to his boxers which are actually tented when he holds them at this angle and- holy fucking shit why is he wearing a strap-on?!?
That- that is way too fucking big and hard to be a packer why is he... With Tim... Both half naked... Flirting over coffee... Strapped...
Dick rapidly begins spiraling towards something like a mental breakdown, because not only is his little brother who's freshly murdered someone (AGAIN!!) being harbored by his other little brother who he loves to absolute death and he's going to have to fight both of them over this, potentially on Christmas - not only is the world possibly ending in like four months - not only that but they're apparently fucking each other too!
Which... Kinda isn't the most surprising thing ever? It breaks his heart in two to think it, but honestly how could Jason not assume that he's been utterly disowned at this point? Is Dick even right to still think of him as family? Maybe this was a long time coming...
Tim blushes an even deeper red and rolls his eyes. "Well, gee, thanks for helping to keep your little brother's thoughts chaste."
The words 'little brother' hit him like a psychic mac truck to the forehead.
It's supposed to be sarcasm, but his tone is far too fond and too flirtatious, and his eyes are still far too low, and 'little brother' wasn't said like the punchline it was said like it was true, and they're smiling at each other as they each sip their coffee and-
That's when he spots it.
Bright red and perfectly centered between them. One large container of coffee. Folgers. Coffee.
Dick officially snaps.
The x-files theme plays over clips of that goddawful commercial and the image before him of his own two siblings reenacting that same energy right before his eyes.
Dick stealthily goes back down the hall and right out the window and up to Tim's front door and rings the doorbell repeatedy until Tim opens the door, looking flustered and just a touch guilty.
"Uh, hi? Wha- are you good?"
Dick pushes passed him and marches right up to the kitchen. "Got a case, sorry about this, but there's no time to explain."
"Should I be getting my suit on??"
"Nope! No, no, no, you just stay here. Just don't touch anyone for the next like twenty four hours and you'll be fiiiine!"
Jason has predictably vanished by the time he gets there, but Tim's coffee is still hot and on the counter.
He swipes both the cup and the container of grounds right off the counter and starts marching back towards the door to leave, to go down into the batcave and test this shit for psychoactive chemicals!
"My coffee? Seriously?? Dick what the fuck?!"
"Crane and or Ivy, don't ask, no time, just don't touch anyone!"
Tim looks at him like he's a lunatic as he runs back out the door, but he's earned that lunatic status so they can both be excused.
---
Jason eyes his coffee, takes another sip. It doesn't taste poisoned. He shrugs and drinks the rest.
---
(Dick is ultimately glad that the lab tests come back clear. Whatever is happening between them it's better that it's not... chemically induced.
He's still gonna have to have a whole internal crisis about it though.)
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noroi-amaraciune · 4 months ago
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Wow threats of violence and death woe is me. Bitch it's been like this for years if you hate me kill me already and if you don't plan to just shut that shit spitting asshole mouth of yours.
I have nothing to lose if he actually carried on with it, he'd do me a favour. It's funny to me he thinks he scares me and its even funnier he gets more angry when I laugh.
Bro I got used to your abusive shit, it's another day of you being an aggressive coward to me after I ignored you for months even if you wanted a reaction. I don't give a shit lmao
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