#i love benny and i will keep maining him

[kasagia]

imgonnagetyouback

Pairing: Benny Cross x fem!ex-girlfiriend! reader Summary: After your rather stormy breakup, Benny decides he can't live without you. He'll get you back. At any cost. Even if he has to force you over his motorcycle and take you far out of town. Taglist for Benny: @aleemendoza2425-blog Benny Cross' Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist P.S. I accept requests for Benny if you want to read sth specific with our boy 😊

Even if it's handcuffed I'm leaving here with you Bygones will be bygone eras Fading into gray We broke all the pieces, but still want to play the game I told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same Pick your poison, babe I'm poison either way... Whether I'm gonna be your wife or Gonna smash up your bike I haven't decided yet But I'm gonna get you back - "imgonnagetyouback" Taylor Swift

“What the hell is he doing here?” You ask angrily, looking out your office window as you see your ex’s Harley parked next to your car.

"Maybe he forgot something from you. Did you give him all his stuff back?" Your friend asks, putting the papers into a folder.

"No. I gathered all four of his shirts and two pairs of pants and made myself a campfire behind the house." You huff angrily, closing the blinds so you wouldn't have to watch the blue-eyed Vandal leaning against your car.

"So what does he want? From what you've told me, your relationship ended in a hell of a bad way, and he was a world-class asshole." You tremble at the mere memory of your breakup with Benny.

You and he met at one of the Vandals' bar. You happened to go there for a drink with your girls; he noticed you and started talking with you. He was flirting with you the whole night and tried to take you with him for a ride on his bike. The first time you turned him down. Then he tracked down where you lived and showed up at your door, offering a ride to your work.

You should have seen a red flag then. But you were too stupid and infatuated by him enough to think it was romantic.

As time went on, he took you to Vandals meetings more and more often. And it was fun. Until you had to bail him out of arrest, pick him up from the hospital, and wait forever for him at home, wondering if he'd be sleeping next to you in bed or at the police station.

And one day, when he ended up in the hospital after some guys beat him up for wearing Vandal's colours, you broke. You begged him to stop while he was still alive and well (which was doubtful considering the doctors were still debating whether to cut off his foot); you literally knelt by his bed and cried like a baby while all he cared about was whether he could keep riding.

But that wasn't the worst. The worst was that every time you argued, he threatened to leave, to disappear, that it would be best for you if he left you alone. And at first you begged him, terrified, to stay, but over time you started to react to those words... more aggressively.

Then you decided you were fed up with living with the wandering cat he was and broke up with him. Roughly. Stormily. Your neighbours heard more than one of your arguments, and the whole street saw you throwing his stuff out the window and finally throwing rocks at him as he rode away on his beloved Harley. On second thought, maybe you were both two big damn red carpets.

"I don't want to know. Will you take me home? The last thing I want today is to meet that son of a bitch."

You sigh, dragging the papers to your desk. You grab your black blazer and throw it on over your white shirt. You adjust your black pencil skirt and grab your purse to follow your friend.

You took the job as a secretary right after breaking up with Benny. You quit your old job not wanting him to know where you worked, but apparently Vandal had his ways. You wonder if choosing another job wasn't a slap in the face for Benny. Choosing such a boring and ordinary job would piss him off even more and prove that you really aren't made for each other.

Just like Benny, you could be hellishly mean.

"What the hell?" Your friend asks as you exit out the back and her car isn't in the parking lot. But there is another Vandal with his motorcycle.

"Johnny." You greet him and walk over to him, crossing your arms. Your friend is hot on your heels. "What are you doing here?"

"Kiddo said you two have a problem in your relationship."

"We don't have any relationship, so there is no problem between us. But apparently, my friend lost her car. Can you help her?" You ask him, furious with Benny for not acknowledging your breakup.

"Y/N... you know that I don't like to get involved in the shit that's not mine, but this kid has been going crazy for a month now. He's been doing even worse shitty things than before, and I can't tell you how many times we've picked him up from jail in the past few fucking weeks. If you ever cared about him, talk to him. He's becoming wildly unpredictable. Even for me."

You bite your lip at his words. You know perfectly well what Benny is like, or rather what he was like before he met you. Thanks to you, he stopped riding so fast and carefree, ended up in the hospital much less often, and even obeyed the speed limit when you were with him on his bike.

You can only imagine what he's been up to in your absence and to what extent, since Johnny took an interest and came to you to talk about it.

"Don't manipulate me, Johnny. You know damn well he deserved it. Now you know what I had to deal with throughout this whole fucking relationship." You reply dryly, not wanting to fall for the Vandals' sweet words again.

You loved them like family, but sometimes you have to cut yourself off from them to save your sanity. And you desperately needed some time to yourself and a break from all of Benny's antics.

"Well... I know Benny isn't easy, but he really is a good kid. Carrot and stick. That's what he needs. And for the sake of your lady-buddy's car and your friendship... maybe you should go and have a few words with him."

"Screw you." You growl, rolling your eyes, and walk away from them. "What are you waiting for?! Take her to this fucking car!" You shout, walking back to the main building to exit through the main entrance.

Johnny puts your friend on his bike, and all you can do is give her an apologetic look as he takes her to where they moved her car. You don't even want to know how they did it.

You sigh as you walk through the office and stand in front of the main exit doors. You glance at your watch and walk out of the building with your heart in your mouth.

You walk down the sidewalk with the other people from work who have just left. Benny's blue irises land on you immediately. He straightens up, stopping leaning against your car and throwing away a cigarette he was smoking. He looks at you expectantly. You nod at him and pretend to walk in his direction.

You cross the street on the crosswalk, but instead of turning right towards the parking lot, you run as hard as you can to the left towards the bus stop.

"Y/N!" Benny shouts after you, and a moment later, you hear the thud of his combat boots against the pavement as he runs after you.

The bus pulls up to the stop, and you run inside. Luckily, the driver closes the doors before Benny can get to them. He bangs on the glass, shouting your name and some curse words, but you can't hear him clearly as the bus starts moving.

You breathe a sigh of relief and wipe your sweaty forehead. This time you did it. You just hoped your friend would get her car back before Benny went to Johnny and complained to him that you ran away.

But for now, you're happy that you managed to outsmart your ex.

The next morning you cautiously peer out from behind your front door, searching for a head of blonde hair. Even though you couldn't see any Vandal's motorcycle through the window, you wanted to be sure that none would suddenly pop out from nowhere.

You sigh with relief, not seeing anything suspicious.

You open the door wider, but something is blocking you. On your way out, you notice a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers. You pick it up and examine it carefully, but you don't see any note or card. But you do see a necklace.

The flowers are tied with a fucking necklace. The necklace Benny gave you at the beginning of your relationship with his initials carved into the back of the silver heart. (One of the guys worked at a jeweler's and did it for him for practically free through a connection or something.) The necklace you threw in his face when you broke up with him.

Furious, you want to throw the flowers in the trash. Instead, you decide to put the necklace in your pocket and walk to work. On the way, you pass a school and hand the bouquet to the first girl you see. At least she was happy because of those damn flowers.

As you continue your walk, you see a motorcyclist in the distance. You tense up and quicken your pace, praying that it's not a Vandal, but apparently you're out of luck today.

"Y/N?! How long have we not seen each other?!" Danny screams as he rides to you. You sigh as his bike blocks the entire sidewalk and force a smile.

"Probably ages ago. How you doing?"

"Great. Can I give you a ride somewhere? Where's Benny? Shouldn't he be the one hauling your ass to work?" He asks, already taking out a helmet for you. You reluctantly accept it and climb behind him on the bike.

"We broke up." You inform him, knowing full well that he's been away from the Vandals lately due to studies and his photography stuff.

"Oh shit. He must be devastated then." He comments and starts the engine. You hold on to him as he drives you to the address you gave him.

The drive takes a few minutes. Luckily, your car is still parked outside the building, and you don't see any parked bikes.

"Thanks. Danny? Can you give this to Benny? You probably will see him sooner than me." You say and hand him the necklace. He nods and drives away, leaving you alone.

You approach your car and curse, seeing the lock placed on the wheel. Not a police lock. A lock that the Vandals often put on and took off in exchange for small money. A small tag was attached to it. It had the date and time written on it—probably their next meeting that they wanted you to join in exchange for taking the damn thing off your car.

"Bad day?"

You flinch and turn around, surprised by someone's presence. You sigh with relief when you see only Mike—an accountant from the company you worked for.

"Bad week. Plus, it looks like I'm grounded." You say and kick your leg against the wheel of your car.

"Yeah, I recognise that. My friend had to pay them like $100 to get that damn thing off. He was rushing to some meeting and couldn't wait for the police and similar stuff. I can get someone to take it off for you."

"I'm afraid I don't have enough money." You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for a weekend with the Vandals. In Benny's company. Talking to him. You already feel sick.

"For free. Friend of mine owns me a little favour."

"Seriously?" You ask, shocked. He nervously rubs the back of his neck with his hands and nods, giving you an uncertain smile.

"Yeah, no problem. And before he will do it... do you mind if we both go to lunch? I mean... you don't have to if you don't want to..."

"You know... I would actually like that." You interrupt him with a smirk, seeing him stuttering, unable to finish his sentence as he blushes.

"Really?" You almost giggle at his incredulous question and the gleam of happiness in his eyes. You nod with a huge, genuine smile, practically forgetting why you agreed to this date in the first place. "So... in four hours at the exit?"

"I will be waiting." With a smile, you leave him behind and enter the office. Maybe this day wasn't such a tragedy after all...

Benny was drinking beer with Johnny and Danny at a table in their favourite bar. The Vandals were circling him like vultures, just waiting for a little sensation and gossiping about his breakup with you.

"It must be hard for you, man. We all saw how much you loved her. Like a Catholic loves a goddamn God."

"Too bad she can't see it." Benny mumbles, lighting a cigarette. His one hand plays with the necklace he left on your doorstep this morning, which you gave to Denny. Benny gave you his fucking heart, and you still rejected it. He had to try harder. He had to talk to you first.

"Hey Benny-boy? How are you? Are you still getting over your breakup with your girlfriend? Do you love her that much? Come on, come with us. We'll race to the brothel, and you'll forget about this bitch in a second." Some Vandal walks up to him and pats him on the back.

"Benny no..." Johnny is interrupted by the crash of Vandal's jaw as Benny's fist hits him.

A second later, a beer bottle shatters over the head of a bleeding man on the floor, and Johnny and Danny try to pull him away from the guy. The entire club boos and cheers for the fight, but the guys quickly drag Benny outside.

"What the hell?! You can love her, but damn, don't be such a girl and react at each shitty comment!" Johnny yells at him and hits him in the chest with his hands. Benny huffs indignantly and puts his hands in his pockets to stop himself from hitting him.

"I hate her!" He growls furiously and plays with the necklace in his pants' pocket.

"And love her just the same, huh?" Danny asks and gives Benny a cigarette.

Benny doesn't answer. He smokes furiously, trying to clear his head, but all he can think about is you. Your scent, your taste, the softness of your body, the shudder of your breath beneath him, the way you clenched your hands around his shirt across his stomach when you rode with him on his bike, the way you pressed yourself against him and snuggled up to him every chance you got... fuck, he missed you. More than he previously thought he would be.

"Benny?! I saw your girl with some man in a suit! At that one of those Italian restaurants on the corner of Main Street. You know, the shitty one for rich people. You should do something about this." One of the bikers rides up and informs him, then rides away before Benny can say anything.

"Kid, don't…" Johnny tries to stop him, but Benny is already on his motorcycle. He starts it and rides as fast as he can, ignoring the shouts behind him.

All Benny could think about was how he was going to beat up the guy who dared to touch you. You were his girlfriend. You were one of the Vandals. You might have been on a break, but that didn't give any man the right to hit on you. Not when you had Benny and Benny had you.

It was simple logic. Nobody messes with the Vandals and their girls.

Benny sped through the city, not stopping at red lights. It wasn't until he was at a restaurant that he stopped his Harley.

He didn't turn off the engine, though. He was staring intently through the restaurant windows and checking out each customer until his eyes landed on you and some shit in a suit who had the nerve to get your attention.

Benny tugged on the handle, causing his bike's engine to roar furiously—like a guard dog giving a warning before it attacks. He increased the engine's roar until your eyes met his.

A cold shiver ran through him as you threw him one of your angry looks, and he felt hurt when you ignored him and continued to talk with the man sitting in front of you and gave him one of your most wonderful smiles. Fuck it. The guy wouldn't be able to walk when Benny got to him.

Benny reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pack of Marlboro, and lights his cigarette. He holds it to his mouth with one hand while the other continues to crank the handle of the engine, so that the roar of the engine drowns out any conversation you might have had with the man in front of you.

He smirks as you and the guy in front of you stare in his direction. He holds a cigarette between his plush lips and waves at you, causing an irritated frown to form on your forehead.

Benny can't help but feel a strange bile rising in his throat as he looks at the two of you. You were on a date with a guy who was clearly the opposite of Benny. He wonders if this is what you really want—a boring guy with a boring job and a tonne of money who could build you a house with a fucking white picket fence and drive you to work in his Cooper car and the kids to preschool. It makes him sick to think that you could be anyone else, that you could have anyone else's children, that you could be married to some guy in a suit and live the life of a fucking decent 1950s shitty family.

Benny knew perfectly well that he couldn't give you what this guy could provide you. He couldn't even afford a date at a restaurant like that.

However, it didn't change the fact that he loved you so damn much.

"Hey! Biker dude, leave Y/N alone!" A guy in a suit comes out of the restaurant and yells at him. Benny calmly finishes his cigarette and throws it on the ground, staring silently at the man in front of him. "Did you hear me, degenerate? Get out of here!" The guy pushes him, hitting his chest. For Benny, that's enough.

He lands the first punch with his right fist, landing perfectly on his opponent's cheek. The next punch sends blood pouring from the man's nose onto his snow-white shirt. But for Benny, it's not enough.

He throws the guy to the ground, and the two begin to fight in earnest. Benny, however, has a much greater advantage and motivation as he takes out all his anger on the guy below him. He only snaps out of this strange trance when someone's hands pull him away from the bleeding man below him.

"What the fuck was that, Benny?! You almost killed him!" You yell at him angrily, pulling your hands away from him as quickly as you can. Benny says nothing, staring at you silently as he processes what he just did. Several other motorcycles pull up in front of the restaurant, with Johnny in the lead.

"Let's go, kid! Before the police arrive."

Benny stares at you, not quite wanting to leave before he explains why he beat up your date. But he stops himself the moment he sees the fear and disgust in your eyes. It hurts Benny more than any punch he could have taken. He clenches his jaw and walks to his bike. He starts the engine and gives you one last long look, then lowers his head in shame as he joins the other Vandals.

Your hair flutters in the wind as you watch the Vandals drive away. You run over to Mike and wait with him until the ambulance arrives. But you don't follow him to the hospital. You have more important things to take care of in the city.

With trembling hands, you knock on the door. You wait patiently outside, considering the pros and cons, but before you can chicken out and leave, Betty opens the door for you.

"Y/N? This is quite a surprise."

"Can I come in? I need to talk to you." The woman makes room for you and lets you in. You greet her and Johnny's daughters, who are watching a cartoon on TV, and you go with her to the kitchen, where you can talk in peace. "It's about Benny."

"I expected it. You know, we were all very surprised when you broke up. We were convinced that a week longer and the boy would start looking for an engagement ring for you."

"Benny and marriage? Not in this lifetime, I guess." You scoff and sit down at the small kitchen island with a smile, thanking her for the coffee she made you. "He fucking almost beat my date to death today. He's acting crazy. Johnny tells me he's been like this since I broke up with him, but we both know he was like this long before we even met. What the hell am I supposed to do, Betty? Get out of town? Out of America? Vandals have expanded all over the states, and most of them aren't the same old club they used to be."

"I know. Believe me, I know best." Silence falls between you after her words. You nod, understanding perfectly that she of you had the most right to worry. You sigh, running your hand through your hair. "Y/N... I'll give you some advice. If you don't care about him that much... if you think you can forget and move on, then save yourself. Run away wherever you want, as far away from him as possible, and forget. But if you can't... then stay and talk some sense into him before it's too late to save him."

"Save him? You know perfectly well he won't abandon the Vandals."

"Like you said, they're not the same Vandals they used to be. They've changed. Johnny sees it. Benny sees it. And they both still fool themselves, but when some shit happens, it finally gets to them. And believe me, Benny loves his bike and freedom, but the Vandals aren't his family anymore. You are." You fall silent at her words, processing everything she said. You nod and sigh, taking a cigarette out of the pack in your pocket. "We smoke outside." She admonishes you. You laugh quietly and raise your hands in surrender.

"All right. Thanks for everything, Betty." You sigh as you leave the house. You light a cigarette and walk across town to the Vandals' bar. You have to finish everything you had to finish with Benny. You couldn't just leave town without a word. There's no telling what the Vandal would do if you suddenly disappeared.

You throw your cigarette into the bin and take a few calming breaths as you approach the biker's bar. Their engines are already roaring, and some of them, probably the young and new ones, eye you warily as you enter.

You look around the bar and frown, unable to find Benny. You walk further in, pushing through the sea of people and sitting at the head table where Johnny sits with his most important men.

"Hello there. Where is Benny?" You ask them, taking the beer from Johnny. The man raises an eyebrow at you and watches as you take a sip.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to him?"

"I have to. I'm leaving town soon. I'd rather tell that to that ticking bomb." Johnny nods, fully realising what you mean. You see Cockroach get up from the table and go to the phone. You try to listen in on the conversation, but Johnny effectively talks you over and drowns out any conversation the man was having at the bar.

"When are you coming back?" He asks, but you don't answer. You take a sip of beer and tap your finger on the neck of the bottle. "I see. The kid won't be happy, you know that?"

"We are no longer together." You snap back, trying your best to maintain your relatively indifferent attitude. "Besides, after the shit he did today, he only proved that I can't stay here anymore."

"He went for a ride. He'll probably be at the lake. Or on the streets breaking a few traffic laws. You know him."

"Too well." You nod and stand up from the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Cockroach exit the bar and get on his bike. You frown and shake your head. They're not your problem anymore. "Tell him I'm looking for him. When you will see him."

"Sure." He agrees and nods. You nod back and turn to leave the bar. You scan the place one last time, knowing full well that you'll probably never set foot in it again.

Your heart clenches as you remember all the times you spent here. Both the good and the bad. Shortly after you broke up with Benny, you cursed this building. You'd rather see it burn down, along with all the Vandals that reminded you of what you'd lost.

You try to hold back the tears that are welling up in your eyes as you involuntarily recall your first meeting with Benny. The pool table is still in the same spot. How easy it would have been for you not to have looked that damned way and not fallen for the charm of those blue irises and the exposed muscles of his arms. How much disappointment and heartbreak you would have avoided if you had never entered that bar. And as much as you despised and hated that place, you loved it and the people in it for a long time and fiercely. And one of them in particular.

But how much more tragedy and sadness could you endure? How long could you live in fear and uncertainty in a relationship that was supposed to bring you only happiness and those good thrills?

Benny wanted to be free. So you will give him that freedom.

"Y/N!" Johnny calls after you before you leave. You sigh and turn to him, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Take care of yourself."

"You too." You nod at him and leave the bar.

You leave everything behind. And you feel like a piece of you is dying in the flames of time and the cry of your tormented heart..

Surprisingly, it doesn't take you long to pack. Nor does it take you long to get off work. Two days later, you're standing in the hallway of your house, ready to hand over the keys to your cousin, who's supposed to be selling it.

You stare at the picture Danny took of you and Benny when you were sitting at one of the biker picnics. Benny and you were leaning against his bike. He had his arm over your shoulder and was staring at you with loving puppy eyes while you smiled at the camera.

You sigh, putting the photo into your wallet and impatiently waiting for your cousin.

Just then, there's a knock on your door. You sigh and open it. You freeze, completely shocked, when you see Benny there.

"I didn't hear your bike."

"I parked down the street. So you don't get scared and run away." He says, still leaning against your door frame.

"I'm not scared of you." You huff indignantly, looking at the scratches on his face. You frown, not remembering him getting any injuries from Mike.

"I had an accident."

"Of course you had." You snort, crossing your arms over your chest. You see his jaw quiver slightly, but he just continues to stare at you with those stupid blue eyes of his, like you're the only girl in the world. "I'm leaving." You inform him, swallowing hard and waiting for his reaction. He drops his gaze to your hands and nods.

"I can see that." He says, nodding at the large travel backpack behind you.

"I won't come back." You inform him, carefully observing his reaction to it. Of course, he doesn't show anything. His face is stony as he looks at you, and his facial muscles don't even move as he doesn't reveal a single emotion to you.

"You won't come back." He repeats, not moving an inch from his spot by your door. You clench your teeth in irritation, to which he just smiles. And oh, that damn smile of his...

"That's it. You can go. You always said you'd be the one to leave. Too bad I had to be the one with the balls to do it." You say angrily, ready for him to turn around and walk to his bike, but all he does is continue to stare at you. You shake your head and push past him when you see your cousin.

You ignore Benny as you sort out the details with your cousin. You grab your backpack and walk him back to his car. You say goodbye to him and watch the car drive away. As you turn to go to the bus stop, you bump into Benny's chest.

"Sorry. I didn't see you." You say, quickly pulling away from him and trying to suppress your blush after your hands were briefly on his chest. The damn thing still had some well-trained muscles.

"Give you a lift?" He asks you seemingly innocently and puts his hands in his pockets. His gaze burns you, making your blush stay on your cheeks a little longer.

"Where are you going?" You ask as you both walk in the same direction. You don't feel like going with him, but you're not going to tell him that yet. You know he'll think of anything to make you get on that fucking bike with him.

"Florida." At those words, you freeze and stand still. You swallow and look at him for a long moment as you remember how you once begged him to go to his cousin in Florida and start a new life there. Then he chose his bike. And you chose yourself.

"To your cousin?" You ask carefully, resuming your walk.

"He hired me at his car workshop." Benny nods, walking glued to your side with his hands clasped behind him.

You feel strangely at ease talking to him. You're out of the habit of it. Of having him so close to you, of feeling the warmth of his body close to yours, of his intoxicating scent, of having his hypnotising irises focused on you and of listening to that raspy voice of his.

You missed him.

"You will have a job?" You ask, shocked. You can't imagine a free spirit like Benny finding a permanent job with set hours. "Well... that's good for you. I guess." You comment as you both walk. Suddenly he steps in front of you and stops. You sigh when you see his bike parked exactly two steps away from you. Fuck, you let that son of a bitch lead you to his bike.

"Are you getting in?" He asks, nodding at his bike. And as much as you want to say yes, you know it'll be bad for both you and him.

You shouldn't be together. Or at least you didn't think so. Even though you loved him so damn much.

"I will buy a train ticket." You politely decline his offer. You expect him to nod silently, get on your bike, and ride off into the sunset forever, but he still stands firmly in front of you, blocking your path.

"Where to?" He asks and looks at you suspiciously, as if he knew perfectly well that you didn't know where you were going yet. You only knew that it was definitely far from Benny.

"You don't need to know." You growl stubbornly, trying to get past him and finally move on.

But Benny won't let you. Before you can register any movement, he moves quickly and takes your hands. He wraps them tightly around his waist, and suddenly you hear a metallic click and something cold and heavy being placed on your forearms. Handcuffs. Bloody handcuffs.

"Benny!!" You growl at him angrily and struggle as he walks towards his bike. "Where the hell did you get handcuffs from?"

"Cockroach." He answers shortly and sits down, making you have to follow his lead. He fucking kidnaps you.

"Benny... let me go!" You scream, trying to punch him in the stomach, but the handcuffs are so short and far enough away from your wrists that all you can do is hold on tight as he prepares to ride.

"Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you." He tells you calmly, and you stare at him in disbelief. What the fuck?

"Don't joke! Benny!" Either he ignores your screams (which is most likely) or he doesn't hear them because at that very moment he starts the engine of his Harley.

So all you can do is sit behind him, holding on tight as he drives who knows where. Amazingly, he stops at red lights and doesn't go over the speed limit. It's only when he gets to the highway that he drives a little faster than the speed limit, but not enough to be considered dangerous driving.

You rest your cheek against his back in defeat as you realise there is absolutely no way out of this. Not if you want to stay alive. You can feel him relax a little as he rides forward, and you are not trying to fight with him. You sigh, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to rest behind him for a moment, revelling in the feeling of freedom as you whizzed through the air on his bike.

Fuck, you missed it.

The only break you get is a stop at a motel when the fuel runs out and the cold night starts to set in. Benny rents you a room (which is surprising because you were always the one paying) at the motel and leaves you there while he goes to fill up his Harley.

You think about escaping, but:

1. Benny took away the keys and locked you up there.

2. He made sure to rent a room on the highest floor of this damn building.

3. You were too tired and hungry after the ride to come up with some plan.

That's why you lay on the bed and wait for him to come back. Hopefully with food. It would be nice to eat something before you will kill him.

As if on cue, the keys turn in the door, and Benny steps inside. In his hand he has a large paper bag, which he places on the bed opposite you in an apologetic gesture of sacrifice for his sins. He can go to hell. Him and his damn puppy eyes.

"What is it?"

"Burgers. Took it for you. Your favourite." He says and makes sure he's locked the door. He puts the key in the keyhole and goes to the window.

He looks at his bike and takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He lights one and looks outside, not sparing you a single glance.

"Where's your jacket?" You ask, seeing as he's not wearing his Vandals' colours. It was weird seeing him in just a T-shirt.

"On a bike in the trunk. I don't know if they'd let me here wearing that."

"You never took it off." You say shocked and raise your eyebrows at him. "You will be cold without it." You notice and take the food out of the bag. You don't eat yet, wondering if you should leave him some, if he even ate anything before he came here.

"I was cold without you." He answers quickly without even thinking much about what he's saying. You see his cheeks redden slightly as he realises he said it out loud. "Eat." He clears his throat and takes a drag on his cigarette. You sigh and start eating. You hum, savouring the delicious food, and you swear you hear him chuckle quietly from his spot by the window. Big bastard.

"Where we going?" You ask him before biting into your burger. You frown as grease leaks onto your fingers. You lick them, unconsciously teasing Benny as he... imagines what your lips wrapped around just as perfectly as they now were wrapped around your fingers. He clears his throat, seeing that you’ve caught him staring at you.

"Florida. I want to show you something." You eat in silence, wondering what he wants to show you that makes him literally chain you to himself and drag you out of town.

"And then?" You can't stand it anymore and finally ask, curious about his future plans and how long he actually wants to keep you with him.

"And then you will decide."

"Decide what? Do I want the fur handcuffs or the regular metal ones?" You snap at him, irritated.

Your sharp mockery makes him throw his cigarette out the window, and his gaze lingers there, as if he were ashamed of what he had done. On the other hand, you didn't give him much of an exit or opportunity to talk normally. You wanted to leave—just like he had promised so many times that he would do. So why did he stubbornly want to keep you if he had never cared?

Benny wasn't one for words. He was sparing with his thoughts and emotions. And for a while, his actions spoke loud enough of his devotion to you. For a while. Then your honeymoon phase wore off, and you were annoyed that he never verbally confirmed to you what his eyes had told you so many times as he held you close by the fire at night at one of the Vandals meetings.

On this particular night, some famous actress that the guys were crazy about was coming to town. Half of them got on their bikes halfway through the party and wanted Benny to join them in hunting her down and taking a picture with her. They even bribed Danny to go with them and take their stupid pictures.

"Come on, Benny. You're not coming with us? I remember you were the one who hung her poster in the club so you could get a good view of her from the pool table." One of the guys was convincing Benny, who was currently lying on the grass and resting his head on your lap, practically forcing you to comb your hands through his blonde locks.

"I have a much better view here!" He shouts at them, not even turning his head in their direction. His blue eyes never leave your face. You blush a little, ducking your head and closing your eyes as you try to ignore the whistles and teasing from the boys at his response.

A moment later, Benny props himself up on his elbows and steals the most delightful, mind-numbing kiss. You cup his cheek in your hand and let yourself sink into the feeling of his soft lips against yours, letting out a quiet sigh when he tangles his hand in your hair and presses you against the trunk of the tree behind you. You ignore the cheering Vandals put on and completely immerse yourself in your little bubble with Benny.

Everyone had their poison. For Benny, it was cigarettes and his Harley. For you, it was him. And back then it didn't bother you one bit.

"I... if you want to go you can. I won't stop you." Benny mumbles under his breath, pulling you from your thoughts. You shake your head, snorting, and set the bag of food on the nightstand next to your bed.

"Thank you so much that you provide me with my basic human rights!" You growl at him angrily, reminding him about those stupid handcuffs.

"You didn't even want to give me a chance to explain myself to you. And you know perfectly well that I never ask for anything or expect anything in return. I... I didn't see any other way to get to you. And I'm not going to apologise for that."

You roll your eyes at him, irritated. But you can't say you don't see the reasoning behind his actions. But the prospect of being dragged around by him deeply offends your innate feminism.

Seeing that you have nothing to add to the matter, he closes the window. He walks over to you and grabs the blanket off the bed. You frown as he sits down in the armchair, clearly intending to sleep there. And you don't like the fact that even though you had him in the same room, you won't be able to have his arms wrapped around you. Especially since it's so damn cold in this motel.

"Come here. You will get sick by sitting near this window. It is cold outside, and they don't even heat the room." You grumble and make room for him on the bed, hoping that you don't have to tell him the real reason you want him next to you to get him in the same bed with you.

"I will be fine." He speaks carelessly and reaches into his pocket for another cigarette.

"Benjamin Cross." You growl at him, which finally gets his full attention. "Get your fucking ass here." Benny rolls his eyes but obediently stands up. He takes off his shoes and lies down next to you in bed.

He covers you with an extra blanket and leaves an absurd amount of space between you that you honestly hate. But you won't make the first move and throw yourself into his arms. Not after he kidnapped you. But... could it really be considered kidnapping if you partly wanted it and you didn't really have anywhere else to be?

You sigh, tossing and turning in your bed as you try to find a slightly comfortable sleeping position. But it's impossible to fall asleep with Benny so close to you when you are not even able to touch him. Especially when his warmth and scent reach you, assaulting you and every ounce of restraint and self-control you had.

"What's the matter with you?" Benny asks as you toss and turn in frustration once again.

"Nothing."

Benny knows that tone. All too well. So he hesitantly moves closer to you and experimentally places a hand on your waist. When you don't push away from him, he gently pulls you toward him and tightens his hold, pressing his chest against your back. You sigh and press your lips to his forearm, rubbing your nose against the tattooed skin.

Benny doesn't comment on that. That's something you like about him. That even when you do completely absurd things, he doesn't comment on it, doesn't deny it, just stands by you in silence. Just like now.

You take his hand in yours and squeeze it so hard that his rings dig into it. But you don't care. It's nice to finally have him this close.

Benny rests his chin on your shoulder and runs his nose against your temple. His beard gently tickles you, but you do nothing about it. It's been a long time since you've had this feeling of him close to you. You turn in his arms and snuggle into him.

Benny gently strokes your back with his hand, holding you close to him without a word as you revel in his scent. For a moment you forget why you should be mad at him and stay as far away from him as possible. So when his lips fall to your forehead and he presses a long kiss there, you grab his chin and steal the kiss from him.

His full, plump lips feel wonderful against yours and caress you nicely. You moan when you can finally taste his lips on yours again, and you remember how much you've missed this feeling. His hand roams over you, and you let him touch you wherever he wants. Benny, on the other hand, is confused. One moment you're yelling at him and you're angry, and the next you want him close to you and you kiss him like there's no tomorrow. It's a nice change. But Benny is afraid of how long it will last. Of how much longer will you want him? And will you want to leave again?

For now, he had you back in his arms. And he wanted to savour that feeling. And he will give you a goddamn reason to stay.

He cups your cheek in his hand and deepens the kiss. His tongue explores your mouth again, as if learning you all over again, before wrapping his tongue around yours. You sigh as his hand slides teasingly from your cheek, down your neck, over the valley of your breasts, and to the hem of your jeans.

"Benny..." You sigh as his cold fingers touch the skin of your stomach after he unbuttons your jeans TOO slowly.

"Do you want me to stop?" Benny almost chuckles at how fast and furious your head is shaking. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your bottom lip bitten in a desperate attempt to keep from making any sound as he gently brushes his fingers over your folds. The motel walls were thin after all. "Open your eyes for me, my little rascal, and say the words. After this, there will be no turning back."

You don't even think about turning back. You don't think about leaving him. You only think about how wonderful it is to have him by your side again, how wonderful his hands feel on you, and how much you want to kiss his stupid mouth until you both have enough breath. And that's exactly what you do.

With that form of agreement from you, his fingers gently delve into your folds, exploring previously familiar territory and teasing you unintentionally as he tries to appreciate every little second he has with you.

Sex with Benny was like that. Unique, intense, a long marathon. Because, as he said, you never know when it's the last time. Although you always prayed that it would never be the last time and that he and you will both live to experience another of your hot sessions.

For now, God listened to a sinner like you...

You almost scream as he digs his long fingers into you up to his knuckles. His rings rub against the entrance of your cunt, the even colder than his fingers metal is making you shiver. Benny kisses and nibbles your neck, leaving a trail of hickies from your lips to your collarbone.

His fingers slide in and out, pushing against that sweet spot inside you that makes you scream his name. His rings push through and enter your vagina, and you can see them glistening with your arousal. And it's fucking hot. As hot as Benny's hard manhood pressing against your thigh.

You dig your nails into his neck and moan into his ear as his thumbs is pressing your swollen clit, working with all his might to bring you to the edge of your orgasm.

You bite your lip, trying to muffle your moans and cries of pleasure so everyone in the motel doesn't hear you, but Benny won't have any of that. He kisses you hungrily and pulls his hand away from you completely. You gasp, lifting your hips and seeking his hand, but he doesn't resume his ministrations until a soft moan escapes your kiss-swollen lips.

"Such a good little desprate girl for me. You take my fingers so damn well now, wrapping your tight unused walls around them, and before when you were scandalously empty, you were a nasty little brat. I shouldn't reward you for running away from me, you know, my sweetest?" He mumbles in your ear with his hoarse voice, still refusing you the touch of his sinfully long fingers.

The tears in your eyes fall freely onto the pillow as you try to gather the last remnants of logical thought to somehow prove yourself to him, because you know you won't come if you just grind against him desperately in the hopes that he'll finally give you more.

"Please Benny… I… oh… I won't leave… I won't leave.."

You tangle your hand in his hair and tug on it, to which he lets out a soft growl from his plump lips. In punishment, he gently nips your collarbone, adding another hickey to the collection, as he thankfully pushes his fingers deep into your velvety wet and eager walls again and tries to bring you immense pleasure.

And it doesn't take him very long. A few thrusts of his fingers, kisses scattered across your neck, collarbone, and cleavage, and you're falling apart beneath him. Your brain is a useless mush as you come from the mere ministrations of his fingers and the dirty words he whispers in your ear. You're drunk on Benny, on the feel of his fingers inside you, his weight on you, and the burning marks his lips leave on your skin.

You lick your lips in anticipation for him to strip down so you can get to the main part, but he just flops onto his side next to you, ignoring the obvious hard soreness in his pants, and wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you against his chest.

"I missed it." He whispers, kissing your knuckles. You feel his grip on your hand tighten, but he doesn’t move to taste you on his fingers. He simply places your joined hands on his chest, his other hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.

You know this is the closest you'll get to an admission of guilt and an apology from him. So you accept it and gently snuggle into him.

"Good night, Benny." You whisper into his neck. He shivers.

Goosebumps appear on the skin of his neck, but he doesn't move. You just lie there, cuddled up to each other, and he presses a long kiss to the top of your head. You feel fulfilled, satisfied, happy,

He lies under you politely, ignoring his discomfort, and you know that this is some kind of sick punishment for himself. Yet you do nothing to stop it. He has to realise that he can't just take you on his bike and take you to hell knows where. He needs to realise that he can't be such a free spirit anymore if he really wants you. That he can't keep doing the shit he did with the Vandals.

Even if you're happy with how things turned out after he dargged you out of the town.

And when the next day he takes you to Florida and shows you the old family home that he inherited from his deceased father and says that he would love to burn this place down in the past, but now he wants to keep it and renovate it for you if you agree to stay with him as his wife, you know you can't stay mad at him forever. Especially not after he slides one of his rings off his finger and places it securely on yours in a silent promise and understanding between you.

You whether gonna be his wife or gonna smash up his bike, (you haven't decided yet) but in the end you gonna finally make him yours and only yours.

After all, he didn't get you back just for you to leave him again. You will stay with each other until the very end. Even if it would destroy you.

[agaypanic]

Fun omg ok could you do the main mbav boys (Ethan, Benny, Rory) and how they would react/feel towards (gn) vampire s/o giving them random little love bites <3

The MBAV Boys Reacting To Love Bites From Their Vampire S/O

Masterlist

Request Something!

A/N: like i do with my headcanons, i did a few short sentences and then a little blurb :)

***

Benny

He likes it

He likes the attention and the way it feels

A kinda dull ache but in a nice way

Occasionally, he’ll do it back

Sometimes, he likes to pretend you bit him to the point of turning him just to bite you back

“Ah! I’m wounded!” Benny yelped, clutching the hand that you had gently nipped at. “I can feel the venom coursing through me.”

“Oh, brother.” You rolled your eyes, stifling your laugh as you watched Benny slip off his bed and onto the floor.

“It burns!” He said dramatically, starting to go rigid before going completely limp.

“That’s not how it works, you know?”

Benny ignored you, staying on the floor for a few more seconds before slowly rising to his feet. He faced you with a wide-eyed stare and outreaching arms.

“I vant to drink your blood!” He said in a typical Dracula voice.

“You watch too many movies.” You said with a giggle before Benny pounced on you, biting at any part of you he could.

Rory

Does it back

Like, without hesitation

Since you’re both vampires, you’re not really scared of just chomping down because it won’t affect you too badly

It quickly becomes a silent way of saying ‘I love you’

Weirds the gang out a little bit when you do it out of nowhere

Sometimes you leave teeth marks, but you and Rory think it’s funny

“Oh my god, Rory, what happened to your arm?” Ethan looked at his blonde friend in slight horror, gaze fixated on his right arm that was covered in faint bite marks.

“Yeah, Rory, who mauled you?” Benny asked, slightly more amused by the sight than Ethan was.

Rory looked down at his arm, as if he had forgotten that you had practically used him like a chew toy yesterday.

“Oh! That was just Y/n.” The blonde said with a shrug. “But if you think this is crazy, just wait until you see them.” Rory laughed. “I got both of their arms and their neck!”

“...excuse me?” Ethan seemed even more disturbed.

“What? It’s how we say ‘I love you!’”

Ethan

Kind of freaks him out at first

Especially if you’re doing it after the Jesse incident

He doesn’t really wanna be a vampire

(at least not right now, but that’s a conversation for later)

He’s okay with love bites when you don’t have your fangs out

You and Ethan were in his room, deeply invested in a video game. He was playing while you sat on his lap and watched. 

You had developed a bit of a habit of biting Ethan. Not too harshly obviously, just a light nibble here and there. But sometimes, when you were distracted, like you were right now, your fangs would show.

Eyes locked on the screen, you shifted slightly in Ethan’s lap to give him a little love bite on the shoulder. But before you could take the bite, the game suddenly paused, and Ethan was giving you a serious look.

“Put them back.” He said, hand on your jaw to keep your mouth from getting closer to him. You gave him a confused look, and he gestured to your fangs.

“Oh.” You quickly retracted your fangs, smiling a now perfectly normal smile. “Better?”

“Much,” Ethan answered, hand dragging down from your jaw to your arm to give it a quick squeeze, as if to say thanks, before returning to the game. You made sure to give him a few love bites before resting your head on his shoulder and watching him play again.

***

Benny Weir Taglist: @batmandallyboy

[luxurychristmaspudding]

You and I | On Call

part iv

summary: frankie has one last question.

pairing: neighbour!frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. dual pov. idiots in love, reader is good with kids. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. fluff, drinking. praise kink. the boys (minus tom). SMUT! fingering, oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v. cum kink? creampie. frankie retains the title of pek 👑

reader is a teacher, has hair, and can be lifted by frankie (he's a big strong boy, don't worry about it) but she is otherwise a blank slate.

wc: 10.8k

an: well, here we are gang. thank you for joining me and for all your sweet words. i've been so awful with reblogging your kindness on this little thing because of how busy i was when i wrote most of it, but i want you to know i appreciate it so much. i've loved sharing these two with you - it's been a privilege <3

shoutout to @jolapeno for helping me with the chapter name, and for very gently reminding me that 20k chapters probably should be split 😉 love you <3

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

series masterlist | main masterlist

When he wakes, it’s well past twelve. 

Nine hours which he imagines he probably needed, but really it puts him two hours behind.

He showers and dresses in a rush, running out the door to his truck, but still taking the time to register that your curtains have remained closed. It makes him smile, knowing you’re likely still tucked up in bed, your stories about the night before resting before they make their way to him.

He practically sprints around the supermarket, grabbing anything that even vaguely crosses his mind as something he might need. Meat, bread, salads of sorts, sauces, soft drinks, beers. He picks up your favourite dessert just in case, and then hauls the bags back to the truck, keeping a nervous eye on the time as his fingers tap against the steering wheel. 

Will and Benny are already there when he gets home. Grinning, leaning against Will’s car as he pulls into the driveway.

There’s a sharp pull of joy in his chest even as Will laughs out a ‘You’re late, Fish’, pounding his back as he pulls him into a hug.

‘Can’t be late to my own fuckin’ house.’ He grumbles back, pulling Benny in in the same way.

‘Can, and you are.’ The younger man laughs. 

‘Thought you might be out with your lady.’ Will teases, and Frankie flushes right to the tips of his ears. 

‘She’s still asleep.’ He says without thinking, a smile pulling at his lips. It’s comical, really, the way the two men freeze and look at each other. ‘Help me with these bags, will you?’

The brothers remain unmoving, staring at him with some degree of bewilderment.

‘Still asleep?’

Frankie sighs, a little exasperated.

‘Yeah. She was out last night.’

Will’s eyes wander to Frankie’s bedroom window just as Benny’s mouth begins to form a question. The realisation dawns quickly.

‘Not in my bed,’ he scowls, ‘Next door.’

‘Oh.’

He turns his back on them, heading to his front door, arms laden with groceries. A nervous, giddy feeling swirls in his stomach.

‘Had us going for a minute there, Fish.’ Will calls after him. Frankie bites his lip against the memories of you in your living room, the desperate kisses you’ve shared since. He feels like a teenager, on the verge of spilling secrets like he’s at a sleepover.

He hums instead, flicking a glance over his shoulder to see Benny grab more stuff from the back of the truck. He grunts and grimaces under the weight, shooting a look at Frankie.

‘What do you have in here? Are we feeding the five thousand?’

Will laughs, loading his own hands with bags, tutting at his little brother.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be the athlete here?’

Benny drops one bag just to give him the finger.

‘This is my rest day, motherfucker.’ 

He groans again as he picks the bag back up, Frankie laughing along with Will.

‘Lift with your knees, not with your back!’ He shouts.

‘Quit telling me what to do, asshole!’ Benny hollers, the older men still chuckling as he shoulders the front door open. 

Santiago arrives not too long after, setting up the last of the food - the salads out on the table, more beers in the fridge. They’ve all clocked Frankie checking his watch, checking his phone, your text that you’d be over in the next five minutes burning a fucking hole in his pocket.

He’s nervous. And they can tell.

He has the distinct impression he’s being cornered when they all turn to look at him at the same time as he fiddles with the burner on the grill. It feels ridiculous - this desire for everything to be perfect. You’ve seen him in all of his less-than-perfect moments, have never shied away. But this - today - feels different.

Pope leads the offence.

‘How’s your girl then, Fish?’

Frankie’s heart drops low in his chest before thumping hard behind his ribs, a hand coming up to try and wipe the sudden smile from his lips. He tries a gruff tone, failing miserably as soon as he speaks.

‘She’s not my girl.’

Will whistles lowly, smirking.

‘Still? We gonna have to smush you together like Barbies?’

Benny snorts, and Frankie shoots him a look which immediately makes him straighten and soften.

‘We won’t. They won’t. Scout’s honour.’

Santi takes a pull from his beer, a glint in his eye.

‘No progress at all?’ He probes.

Frankie takes a deep breath, eyes lowered to the floor before finding the deep brown of his best friend.

‘We’re… seeing each other.’ He murmurs, this time unable to hide his smile, hand scratching at the back of his head.

Silence. Quiet that puts Frankie even more on edge as he watches his friends exchange looks, as a slow smile tilts the corners of Benny’s lips.

‘Well - that’s an improvement.’ Will grins.

‘A marked improvement.’ Santi agrees.

‘So you told her how you feel?’ Benny asks, eyebrows raised.

Frankie sucks air through his teeth, clears his throat. His face grows warm, fingers twitch a little.

‘Not quite -’

Will barks a laugh. 

‘Morales, you dog.’ Followed by the deep rumbles of amusement from the other two men.

‘Oh, the tried and true manoeuvre - the Catfish Canoodle.’ Benny snickers.

‘The Morales Marathon.’ Will adds, tilting his bottle to him. Pope is next, grinning lasciviously.

‘The good old Five Finger Fish Fu-’

‘Frankie?’ You call from inside the kitchen, ‘I have beers, but there’s no room in the fridge -’

You pop your head round the backdoor, beaming immediately when you catch sight of the men in the garden.

‘Oh! Hi,’ you say brightly, emerging fully. Frankie’s heart stutters. You’re wearing that sundress he remembers - hasn’t been able to forget - from when he mowed your lawn weeks ago. Gorgeous, the way it drapes over your curves, the way it lets your skin glisten in the afternoon light. He feels his shoulders drop, his whole body relax. Feels the way he goes a little weak at the knees, knows he’ll be looking lovesick in front of the boys. And he doesn’t care.

‘Sorry I’m a little late,’ you say, hopping down the porch steps towards them, ‘I wish I had a good excuse, but I just - don’t.’ 

Benny laughs, moving with Will and Santi to greet you. Frankie just about catches the look Santiago throws him, a sweet holy shit, brother.

‘Ah, the elusive neighbour. We were starting to think he’d made you up.’ Pope says, matching your smile. You giggle, arms outstretched as he reaches you.

‘Funny,’ you smirk, ‘I was thinking of not turning up just to prove you right.’

He laughs as he releases you, Benny sweeping you into his arms and planting a kiss on your cheek.

‘Even more beautiful than he said you were,’ he says, and Frankie watches your eyebrows shoot up as you fix him with an oh, really? look. His heart drops to his stomach, neck grinding in an effort to shake his head before a shit-eating grin splits across your face. 

‘I had no idea he was so - complimentary - behind my back.’ You laugh against Will’s shoulder as he spins you around.

‘Oh, he is,’ he chuckles, placing you gently down with your back to Frankie. Frankie glowers at him half-heartedly as Will winks back, and the dark-haired man raises a finger, mouthing at him to shut - the fuck - up. ‘Feels like we’ve known you for ages.’ Will continues.

You turn, planting your hands on your hips, cocking your head at Frankie.

‘Just can’t stop talking about me, huh, Fish?’ You tease, and Frankie huffs as he pulls you in for a lingering hug, wondering if it’s too much to kiss you in front of his friends.

‘Guess not.’ He whispers into your ear.

You’re biting your lip as you pull away from him, hands lingering on his shoulders as his stall on your waist.

Will clears his throat. 

‘You gonna introduce us then, Morales?’

Frankie rolls his eyes at him as he turns you around, hands at your hips, pointing a finger at each friend.

‘William Miller,’ he says, as Will pulls a face - just Will is fine - ‘Benjamin Miller,’ - Benny, please - ‘And Santiago Garcia.’

‘I’m only Santiago when I’m in trouble,’ Which is most of the time, Benny laughs. ‘Santi is much better.’

You grin as you give them your name, and Will nudges your arm with his elbow.

‘I thought we were on Bug terms.’

You laugh, batting his arm.

‘You can call me Bug if you really want to.’

Benny shrugs, squinting his baby blues at you.

‘Maybe,’ he grins, ‘But your name suits you. It’s pretty. I like it.’

Frankie rolls his eyes again, squeezing your waist against the flicker of possessiveness that rises in his gut. It’s nothing more than teasing, kindness - something they’ve almost always extended to partners welcomed into the fold. But he’s not blind - they’re a handsome group, and he wants you to himself.

‘You gotta stop that,’ you giggle, ‘Before I wanna hang out with you guys all the time.’

Will throws a gentle arm around your shoulder, leaning back to wink at Frankie.

‘Hear that, Fish?’ He chuckles, ‘She’s in.’

He groans.

‘It’s not too late to back out,’ he murmurs lowly in your ear, ‘Though we’ve got a fuckton of food.’

His heart leaps as he feels your fingers reach for his, tangling briefly before squeezing. 

‘I’m stayin’,’ you promise, as Will moves around you to turn the grill on. ‘You guys put on a hell of a spread, anyway.’

From behind, Will claps a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, shunting the younger man forward a little.

‘That would all be Fish. Must be a special occasion.’ He smirks, and Frankie looks up to the heavens to try and stop his wish for the ground to swallow him up.

‘Sure is,’ you smile, ‘Feelin’ pretty lucky to be meeting you guys.’

‘Pleasure's all ours, kid.’ He grins.

Frankie smiles softly at you, brown eyes filled with something warm.

‘Want a drink?’ He asks.

You smack your lips, hand grabbing at your throat.

‘Please, Fish,’ you gasp, ‘I’m parched.’

The screen door has barely shut behind you before he has you backed against his kitchen counter again, stealing kisses like you’re about to get caught.

His lips are slow, sweet, hands so lazy, so indulgent in the way they hold you you’re not sure it’s really happening, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He crowds you a little closer, licking into your mouth as he fists the skirt of your dress, palming at your ass. You barely manage to catch your breath before he’s mouthing at your neck, nipping at the skin there as you huff against him. 

‘Good time last night?’ he breathes against your shoulder. You nod, eyes shut tight.

‘Yes,’ you gasp, ‘Really good time.’

‘Good,’ he murmurs, ‘I’m glad.’

You moan softly as he grips your hips, pulling you up against his thigh. There’s a thrill to it, knowing the boys are just outside. It makes your blood run hotter. Dangerously hot - no-turning-back hot.

‘Should get back outside. Before they wonder where we’ve gone.’

‘Don’t care,’ Frankie rasps, tugging at your dress again, ‘This fucking dress drives me insane.’

You nip at his bottom lip as his mouth meets yours again.

‘You’re driving me fucking insane,’ you gasp, lips tipping upwards, ‘In your kitchen, humping your leg like a dog in heat -’

He groans against you, forehead knocking against yours as he breathes heavily.

His eyes are almost black, palms warm and rough as they cradle your cheeks.

‘Once they leave,’ he whispers, ‘We’re spending a week in my bedroom. Or yours. I don’t care which.’

A whimper slips up your throat, mouth pressed hotly against his again as you start to count how many hours until it might be acceptable to drag him away. One hand slips from your cheek to your waist, inching up until he can squeeze at your breast, running a thumb over your nipple. You shudder, whole body ignited. 

‘Fuck.’ He breathes.

‘Frankie -’

‘Hey! Lover boy,’ Pope whistles from behind the screen door. You leap apart at the sound of his footsteps on the porch. ‘Hope you’re decent in there, I’m coming in -’

Santi appears, grinning widely as he pushes his way into the kitchen. He shields the side of his face facing you with a hand. ‘I’m not looking,’ he says, ‘But we’re gonna get grilling.’

‘We’re not naked, Pope.’ Frankie says, bemused. You giggle as Santi drops his hand.

‘Thank God,’ he sighs, before fixing you with a look, ‘I’ve seen enough of this man’s ass to last me a lifetime.’

He’d hoped it would be easy, knew that they’d love you. But he’s never seen these three men take to someone the way they have you.

He smiles as you stand with Will at the grill, watches the brotherly affection develop in real time. The soft smack of your palm against the older man’s shoulder, snorts of laughter, whispered jokes and more serious stories swapped. Frankie relaxes into it more and more, gazing at you over Benny’s shoulder. 

When he brings more food over to cook, Will stays stood by his side as you take his place with Benny and Santiago. The three of you huddled around the crackling firepit, hooting with laughter. He catches his own name a few times, turns to find you watching him with shining eyes as Pope and the younger Miller brother no doubt regale you with embarrassing stories from his youth. Things he hasn’t thought to tell you, things he may well have forgotten. And you fill a chair so easily, so effortlessly, it’s like you’ve always been there.

Clinks of cheersing bottles, conspiratorial shoulder bumps, lowered heads and loud exclamations and giggles. He feels like he’s in a fucking coming of age movie.

‘She’s a keeper, brother,’ Will murmurs to him over the lip of his beer bottle. He turns to him, a little surprised, but Will looks so at ease, so content with his little smile, that he knows there’s no bullshit there. ‘Fuckin’ funny. And smart as hell.’

Frankie hums, busying himself with flipping a burger. His hands are a little shaky - even after everything that’s happened over the last week, there’s still something that’s keeping him unsteady. The rock of a world turned on its axis, the deep want of willing this to work - because he loves you. So fucking much.

‘Don’t go all shy on me now, Fish.’ Will says, turning with him so his back is to you.

‘’M not.’ Frankie says, softly. Will sucks a breath through his teeth, squinting up at the sun just over the roofline of your house.

‘Do you remember what I was like when I first met Charlotte?’

Frankie looks at him - the beard, the hair pulled back, the clear blue of his eyes. He nods.

‘And the way you wound me up? How I was always looking for her, always checking for her? And at the end of the night, you asked when I was buying the ring?’

Frankie chuckles at the memory, the comment made stood at the bar with his best friend, manifesting the future he’d have. The ring that now sits on Charlotte’s finger, the wedding planned for the end of the year.

‘I do.’

Will looks back at him, teeth exposed with his smile. Teasing, full of humour, but it’s genuine, not goading.

‘When are you buying the ring, Frankie?’

Blood rushes to his head so fast he feels dizzy, so fast he has to put the tongs down. He scoffs, the way it sounds out loud so outlandish, but something pierces deep through his chest at how clearly Will sees through him.

Because he’s thought about it.

He shakes his head, swallowing roughly. There’s nothing he can say. Anything like not even my girlfriend yet would sound like a denial. But admitting it, that secret thought, even to Will, feels insane.

He’s still grinning at him.

‘I know it when I see it, Fish,’ Will continues, ‘And I know what you’re thinking.’ He pauses, shrugs. ‘Bring her to the wedding. She might catch the bouquet.’ 

He can’t move. Can’t turn to look at you, he’s sure his cheeks are burning so brightly. Can’t even twist his head when Benny calls,

‘Are you done grilling over there? We’re starving.’

He can’t stop thinking about it. Can't stop his whirring brain as the five of you eat, passing sauces and salads. Can’t stop thinking about a future, a life with you as you sit across the table from him, meeting his eye, chatting, laughing. Can’t stop the thoughts from ploughing through him as your foot catches his under the table, can hardly swallow his burger against the words lumping in his throat. Can’t stop the pounding of his heart when he catches you gazing at him halfway through a story, chin cupped in your hand, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars - can’t stop wondering whether you’ve ever pictured the same. 

He’s barely snapped out of it when the plates are stacked and carried through to the kitchen, bits of salad and smudges of sauce halfway cleared up before you pile outside again, Will and Santi jostling over the chair free from the smoke of the firepit. You walk with him and Benny, the younger man listening to you talk with such interest, such fondness already, that Frankie wonders whether he’s too young to have a heart attack. 

He’s only pulled from the conversation by the crack of broken furniture, the three of you stopping short and quiet as Will wheezes, sprawled on the ground atop the remnants of the coveted chair. He holds a hand up in the air, craning his neck at Frankie.

‘His fault,’ he croaks, pointing at Santi, who holds his palms up in surrender. 

‘Not my fault that he’s so heavy.’

You trap a giggle between your teeth and bottom lip as Frankie and Benny start to laugh, Will scrambling to his feet with the help of Frankie’s outstretched hand. 

‘Santiago.’ Benny snickers, and your bright eyes find Frankie’s.

‘Well. Now you are in trouble.’

Frankie grins, fixing Santi with a faux stern look.

‘In so much trouble you’re gonna have to sit on the floor.’ He chuckles, and Pope pouts.

‘My knees will never recover, Fish, and you know that.’

He shrugs, settling into a chair at the same time as Benny and Will. You stay standing, warring silently with yourself before you gesture to the empty seat for Santi to take. 

‘It’s yours,’ you smile, nervous as you turn to Frankie. ‘Is this seat taken?’ You ask, looking pointedly at his lap.

His eyes blow wide for a second, breath caught in his chest. Unsure, for a moment, of your meaning, ready to give the chair up for you. You raise an eyebrow, palm lowering gently onto his shoulder.

‘No.’ He rasps, blissfully unaware of Will’s smirk.

‘Good.’ You say, lowering yourself onto his thighs, an arm around his shoulders, his around your back, hand at your hip. He swings your legs over his without thinking, and you settle, limbs tense at first, before shuffling a little to get comfortable.

To their credit, the boys don’t make it a thing. They continue the conversation as normal as the two of you join in, wrapped up together, crowing with laughter as your bodies vibrate against each other. 

You hold each other closer as the evening wears on. Head resting against his chest, nuzzled against the fabric of his t-shirt. Laundry detergent, light scent of cologne, the warmth of his skin. His hands are broad and calloused where they cradle you, so easily - never a limb falling slack, never goosebumps that go unsoothed. He rubs his thumb against your thigh in soft semi-circles, leans his cheek against the top of your head, breathing in your shampoo. 

Lets himself be warmed by the pressure of your body against his, willfully ignores his cock when it twitches hopefully as you shift. Which is hard, as you begin to shift more and more the later it gets, the hotter you burn above him. And as hard as you try, you just can’t keep still. Can’t stop trying to find relief for the ache in your core, the wetness pooling in your underwear. 

He finally grips your hips against a particularly wicked wriggle, head dipping to growl in your ear.

‘Stop, baby. Please.’ And it works for a moment - only a moment - as you’re frozen by the flashbacks of him unravelling beneath you eight days ago. Eight days too long.

As though he’s read the shift in atmosphere, Will stands and stretches.

‘I’m heading in,’ he says, rolling his head on his shoulders. ‘The spare room calls.’

You stand, reluctantly, and Frankie is quick to readjust himself as inconspicuously as possible. Will gives you a sweeping hug, kissing just before your ear as you say a muffled see you tomorrow into his shoulder. Frankie takes his outstretched hand, pulling him into a back-clapping embrace of sorts, and when he pulls away he’s surprised to see Benny and Pope also bidding you goodnight. He checks his watch. 

It’s not even eleven.

His eyes twitch from you to the boys as he works out whether you’re heading back to yours, too.

Santi catches the look, slapping a hand onto his shoulder as he whispers a do not come back into this house, pendejo. He looks over your shoulder at Benny as Will makes you giggle again, and is met with the firm waggle of a finger.

Stay, he mouths.

Fuck you, Frankie mouths back, watching their backs retreat into his house. 

The backyard falls quiet, only the snap of logs in the fire, the buzzing of insects, and the rush of blood in his ears to be heard.

You turn, facing him in the dark, half your face lit by the dying embers of the fire pit. 

‘Are you - are you tired?’ He asks softly, afraid of disturbing the hushed moment.

‘No,’ you whisper, ‘Are you?’

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly.

‘No.’

You nod, gentle smile pulling at your lips.

‘Good.’

You step towards him, slowly, like something out of a dream. Glowing in the low light, sparkling with something divine.

You cup his cheeks with both hands, press your body in a firm line against his, hoping to convey exactly what you mean through the touch. Affection, of course, love, adoration - everything you’ve been planning on giving him over the last week, but now, more pressingly - want. Pure, unadulterated want. 

You tip your head to slant your mouth against his, hot, heavy, teeth clashing at the initial meeting, breath mingling, tongues licking into each others’ mouths. You tug at the back of his neck, hand buried in the soft curls there, yanking his head back a little to open his mouth up to you. You let go. Lips suckling at his tongue, teeth nibbling at the pillow of his lower lip. Further. Pecking at the scruff of his jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck. Nipping, raising red on his skin, before soothing it with a tortuously slow lick of your tongue.

Your breathing is so heavy, hands so feverish, you lose the sense of where you end and he begins. Feel fingers scrabbling for purchase, bruising grips, on you and him. One scorching palm runs the length of your dress down to the top of your thigh, grabbing at the flesh there. You shift your stance, moaning into his mouth, finding that hand with your own, moving it closer to that burning place between your legs. Frankie follows your lead.

You press his hand up, and his knuckles graze along the sodden fabric of your panties, lips falling away from his as you whine and he groans. You’re soaked, wetter still as he runs the length of his fingers up and down the material clinging to your pussy, feeling the bite of your teeth as you try to muffle yourself against his collarbone. 

He shushes you, coos at you, pressing a particularly firm stroke against your cunt that makes your legs shake as he asks you -

‘You gonna let me feel it, baby?’

You gasp against his mouth, nodding feverishly. He chuckles, slowing the pace of his kiss so he can really focus on how soft, how warm and wet you are as he pulls your panties to the side with deft fingers, slicking them up before swirling them around your clit. A stuttered breath escapes you, cutting off into a loud, unabashed moan as he slowly, slowly fucks his fingers into you. He sinks right down to the bottom knuckle, kisses forgotten as he breathes raggedly against your cheek, feeling you clench and whimper around him. He curls them slightly, and your knees practically buckle, stomach contracting, hands grasping at his shirt.

‘Frankie,’ you plead, almost losing your train of thought as he plants a kiss just behind your ear. ‘Take me to bed.’

He pumps his fingers, once, runs his thumb softly over your clit before withdrawing them altogether, mouth slanted firmly against yours, stifling your whine. You stumble a little, pulling at the collar of his shirt for him to move with you before pausing briefly, watching as he brings his fingers to his lips. He slips them deep inside, groaning around them, eyelids fluttering as he takes in the taste of you. Your breathing is heavy as he slips them from his mouth, offering them to you. You take them willingly, bobbing your head to feel how thick and heavy his fingers are on your tongue, the taste of your slick diluted with his spit making your mouth water. He stares as you flick the muscle between and around his digits, brow furrowed, eyes dark, before he retracts them. You frown at him, and he licks into your mouth with such ferocity you’re quick to forget your disappointment. 

‘Yours. Now.’ He murmurs, and then you’re grinning, running. Sprinting over his lawn, hopping the fence on unsteady legs, striding towards your porch. You slam up the steps, glancing behind you only once to watch him follow you. Giddy with want, warm all over, soaking wet, you can't help but look for him.

For the first time since you moved next door, Frankie willingly hops the fence. 

He catches up to you before you can get the front door open, clutching your hip, turning the handle with the other. He backs you into the hallway, kicking the door shut behind him, shoes toed off blindly. There’s no reprieve from his lips, no other thought than his hands on your body, guiding you into your living room, hips bumping into furniture, deaf to the clatter of objects falling - not a single fuck given over what - one hand - whose, you’re not sure - flying out to flick a lamp on before he’s crushing you against the sofa. 

Calves to the furniture, you fall, and he follows you - two hands braced either side of your head before returning to their homes on your cheek, your waist, your breasts. Palming at the flesh there, kneading, thumbing over your nipples. You’re gasping, rolling your hips in hopes you’ll catch against something, because he’s everywhere, only to come up empty every time. He lowers both hands, tongue running strongly against yours. One shifts your hips, the other pressing against your panties again.

‘Let me taste you,’ he groans, voice hoarse, ‘Please, baby. I have to - let me taste you.’

You nod fiercely, tugging on his curls again, mumbling a fuck, Frankie, yes, before he pulls away. His lips are spit-slick, swollen, cheeks flushed. Breathing haggard, eyes blown, curls frayed. He looks almost how he did a week ago. 

He holds your gaze for a moment, searching again, letting the question float through the air. You nod, softly, and he begins his descent. 

His lips are wet against your skin, leaving shining marks as he presses them to your clavicles, your breastbone, closing them around your covered nipples. He mouths at them, tongue dampening the fabric of your dress, warming, cooling, the fabric sticking to you in a way that makes your back arch. He works one with his fingers while his mouth is occupied, teasing them into peaks as you whimper and buck your hips beneath him. He watches you darkly, eyes heavy lidded, eyelashes almost fanned against his cheeks. And you ache. Ache so badly, so unforgivably. You can feel how wet you are - panties soaked, dampness all the way down into the cleft of your ass, smudging along the tops of your thighs. He waits until you whine again, louder, higher pitched, nails scraping in his curls, against his scalp - please Frankie, please - before he moves lower. More kisses pressed to your covered stomach, lower, lower, large hands pushing up the hem of your skirt, tracing every bit of skin they can find. He shifts on his knees to get closer as you lift your hips so he can shove your skirt all the way up, lips parting, eyebrows furrowing in a desperate look of need as he fixes his eyes to your clothed core, as you buck again at the look in his eyes, breathing heavily. His palms come together at the very tops of your thighs, thumbs brushing along the hem of your panties either side of your pussy. You huff again, hands leaving their clutch of the sofa to bury back into his curls, tugging him forwards. 

He groans, deep in his throat, easily led. Presses his nose to your clothed cunt, inhales deeply, grinds the tip just against your throbbing clit. You whimper, tugging once more, and he nuzzles your bud again, mumbling something into your heat.

‘Frankie -’ you gasp, ‘Frankie - if you don’t fuckin’ - touch me in the next thirty seconds, I’m gonna cry.’

‘I am touchin’ you,’ he growls against your hip, head tilted to look up at you. His hot breath on your skin has your flesh breaking out in goosebumps. You shake your head, frustration burning behind your eyes.

‘I want - your tongue -’ you pant, ‘Want to feel your mouth, Frankie.’

He groans, thumbs digging under the waistband of your panties to rip them down your legs, eyes never leaving your core as he reveals you - glistening, messy, wet, drooling for him. He splits his fingers into a V, spreading your lips as you keen and mewl above him.

‘You want me here?’ He rasps.

‘Yes,’ you breathe, ‘I fucking do.’

He finds it in himself to show you mercy.

The first stroke of his tongue is strong, wide. As though he’s trying to take as much of you in as possible in the first go - licking deep and long to taste your slick, tracing the dip of your hole, ending with a final swirl around your clit. Your chest shudders, eyes squeeze shut, hands tense in his hair.

‘Okay, baby?’ He asks, so soft.

You lick your lips.

‘Yeah.’

He pushes your at knees to spread your thighs wider apart.

‘Look at me.’ He says, and you crack your eyes open to watch as he manhandles your legs onto his shoulders, tilting his head as he considers, pushing them back towards your chest in order to find the best angle to eat you from. Fuck.

He’s not gentle, and he isn’t taking his time. 

The week you’ve waited, the months building up to this, do not mean you have the patience to make this last any longer than he’s already teased you for. He eats you like he’s starved, like he’s never tasted anything like the heaven between your legs. Long, firm strokes of his tongue, flicking at your swollen clit, watching as your head tilts forward, heavy, unable to tear your eyes from him. Chest heaving, something about the way you’re still wrapped in that fucking dress making him leak steadily in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper. He’s barely spared a thought for it so far, caught up in the way you look, the way you feel, smell, taste. He moves his grip from one of your knees to palm himself roughly, and you moan, watching him. 

Your lips part, and he knows, knows that you’re going to beg him to fuck you before the words even leave your mouth. And he will.

He just needs this first.

‘You’re gonna come in my mouth,’ he rumbles, stroking your clit with his thumb, levelling you with a dark, stern stare, ‘And then we can do anything you want. Just need to taste you like this first.’

He watches the pulse of your cunt, the gush of slick that escapes you at his words. Coos at you, so pretty, baby, before leaning back in.

Closing his lips around your pearl, sucking, flicking, tracing shapes - tracing the letters of his name against you - watching as you buck and cry and moan. You’re so fucking beautiful, leaking around him, wetting his chin, his lips, his cheeks. He can only taste you, only smell you. And it’s fucking divine.

Diving in as you bury your hands in his hair again, pulling his mouth closer, reeling in the soft plush of his lips, warm wet of his tongue, the sharp nip of his teeth against your skin. He lets you use him, lets you grind against his face, winding your hips against him. He holds his mouth open, tongue lapping where he can, mumbling against your skin. Blissed out, pussy drunk.

Yes, yes, fuck. Fuck, baby - use me. Use me, just like that. Take what you need, Bug. Taste so good, feel so fucking good.

His eyes dart from your cunt to your face - this beautiful mess you’re making, the fucked out, glassy look you watch him with. Mouth dropped open, brow scrunched in ecstasy, broken little pants and moans, cries of his name. He stretches an arm, a hand above his head, kneading at your breast, pinching your nipple, the other settling above your mound, thumb pulling back the hood of your clit. You shut your eyes quickly, your shout of fuck coming loud, a yelp.

He can taste how close you are, willing you to come with his eyes when you meet his gaze. His come, baby, is muffled, but it’s all you need. 

You break, back arching, breasts heaving, pussy fluttering and clamping around his tongue, heat blasting through your belly, a rush of bright white feeling pouring from you. Your hips freeze, jerk, twitch against him, and he closes his eyes briefly, worried that if he watches you ride the high the whole way through he’ll come in his fucking pants again. 

Your hands loosen in his hair, letting him lick and suck dazedly until he’s content. Nose pressed against you, inhaling, tasting as you whimper, thighs tightening a little around his head at the oversensitivity, and he backs away, pressing kisses to your thighs as your ragged breathing begins to ease into a more even rhythm.

He nips at your skin as you stare at him, something flooding your chest. You feel like you’re still riding that wave, feel like no one’s ever really eaten you like that, nobody’s ever really let you use them like that.

You bring a hand to his cheek, thumb tracing the glisten of you on his lips. He tilts his head into your palm, and you smile, mouth dry.

‘Where’d you learn to do that?’ You ask. It’s a dumb fucking thing to say, but you can think of nothing else that could quite explain the light-headed awe you’re feeling. He laughs, a deep rumble, real, into your thigh.

‘It’s a gift.’ He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your belly, shifting on his knees, adjusting himself. Your eyes soften, dropping to his hand.

He sees the question in your eyes again.

He leans forward, squatting, hands moving to the crease between your thighs and ass, before he stands, bringing you with him. You mouth at his neck as he stumbles to your stairs, taking them steadily, shouldering open your bedroom door through the darkness. 

He drops you where he knows the mattress, your bed will be, separating himself from you only briefly. He yanks the curtains shut as your fingers flick on a dim light - you’ll be damned if you're not watching this. 

He stops before you at the edge of the bed, between your legs. You reach out, looking up at him - sharp curve of his nose, chocolate of his curls illuminated by the light, the heat of his eyes, soft clench of his jaw, rough swallow of his throat. He reaches to stroke your hair, cupping the back of your head. You tug at the hem of his t-shirt, and he holds your hands, loosening them so he can pull it up over his head. And then he’s all golden tan, freckles. Stupidly broad shoulders, strong arms, muscle moving beneath the skin as he discards the garment on the floor. Curls of hair over his chest, down his softening stomach, down below the waistband of his jeans. The bulge straining against the denim there. You draw your hands down the lines of him, pausing only to trace the silvery mark of the scar on his abdomen. He sucks a sharp breath in at the tenderness, the intimacy, takes your fingers in his. Watches as you blink up at him, as you move to press your cheek against the heft of his cock, a kiss against his zipper. Hands making quick work of freeing him, tugging down the denim and his boxers. He steps out of them, bending only to pull his socks off, before he stills in front of you. His hard cock bobs against his stomach - you’re briefly distracted by his thighs, the delicious, smooth patches of skin where his hips meet his torso - but he is impossible to ignore. Thick, throbbing. Precum beading down the shaft, head flushed a heady, deep red, veins pulsing beneath the skin. Curved upwards, twitching beneath your gaze. You swallow thickly.

‘Holy shit.’

You don’t even realise you’d said it out loud until he laughs, a little bashful, a little proud. You look back up to him as you reach out, fingers wrapping around his base. Skin like silk, like gossamer, hot and strong. He hisses through his teeth, knees weak and hips bucking all at once. You pump once, twice, letting your breath fan over him.

‘So pretty,’ you murmur, ‘Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.’

He flushes at your words, his retort dying in his throat when you wrap your lips around him, gently taking his head in your mouth, swirling your tongue in circles, dipping into his slit, teasing the skin on the underside. He watches, breath caught in his throat, head pounding as you dip forward, hands flat against his thighs, eyes fluttering blissfully as you take him deeper. Watches as he disappears inside your mouth, as he feels nothing but warm and wet, nothing but your tight swallow, your fluid grip at his base, the vibration of your hum, the glint in your eyes as you look up -

He retracts his hips reluctantly, sliding his cock from your throat. You try to follow, whining as you shift forward, still connected through a delicate line of spit and precum, stretching thin as he pulls you back with a firm hand in your hair. He breaks it with his fingers, letting his thumb catch the dribble of it against your chin. He offers the digit, and you obediently take it in your mouth to suck the mixture off. Your eyes are still wide, pleading. He smiles softly.

‘Not gonna last like that, baby,’ he mutters. ‘Wanna feel you this time.’

You pout, words slurred in your pleasure filled haze, eyes heavy lidded as you hold his gaze.

‘Wanna watch you come every way. Wanna make you come every way. Wanna - wanna taste it, wanna feel it, want you to cover me -’

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he grits, cock throbbing painfully at your words, head spinning. He never thought he’d hear you talk like that, cock drunk on the edge of your bed, mouth all sad without his dick in it. ‘Get this off.’ he hisses, tugging again at the hem of your dress, pulling it up as you hold up your arms. It comes easy, exposing your bare pussy, soft skin of your stomach, plush flesh of your breasts. 

There's so much blood south of his brain Frankie thinks he might pass out.

He bends to kiss you, groping at your tits again, fingers swiping fleetingly between your legs to find you still soaked.

‘Perfect,’ he growls, ‘So fucking perfect.’

You whimper, backing up across your sheets. He follows, both knees dipping onto the mattress, tongue searching for yours, pecks and nips pressed to your forehead, cheeks, lips.

Your hands find purchase wherever they can, squeezing the tops of his arms, nails grazing the skin, grasping the meat of his hips, tracing the contours of his belly, squeezing and stroking his cock. A deep groan rumbles in his chest again, and he's breaking the kisses to divert and scoot back against your pillows. You crawl to him, eye contact only broken as his eyes flick over your shoulder, and he freezes, shivers. You smile wickedly, guessing at what he can see. You pause between his legs again, lowering your head to kiss at his base, cup his balls, arching your back a little more so he can really see the angle you’re exposed at in the mirror behind you.

He doesn’t know where to look. Where your mouth and hands are, teasing at his cock again, or where he can see your glistening pussy, tilted up, shining, ready. 

He’s losing his fucking mind.

He reaches over, curling his body around yours to land a firm smack against your ass. You whimper at the contact, hot pant of air against his skin, eyes glassy again as he groans, watching the flesh ripple, watching the claim he has staked begin to form. 

You move to kneel, coming face to face, your eyes wide, wanton, desperate.

‘Fuck me, Frankie,’ you whisper, pleading. ‘Please, fuck me -’

He shakes his head, kissing your temple.

‘Gotta get you ready first, bebita,’ he breathes, pulling you closer, moving your legs. ‘Come here for me, turn around. Come closer. Like this.’ He arranges you so you’re sat, cradled between his legs, your back to his front. He spreads your legs wide, hooks them with his ankles so you can’t close them. Runs his hands down your body, your eyes tracing his movements - every squeeze, every pinch, every circle he draws. 

Your breath hitches as his hands travel lower, parting your folds again, feathering over your clit. You turn your head to speak directly into his ear.

‘Don’t tease, Morales.’ You purr. He chuckles, turning to peck at your lips.

‘I won’t, princesa.’

You cry out as he sinks two fingers inside your heat, making good on his promise. Your chin dips, but his spare hand comes up to cradle it gently, angling your head so you can watch him work you in the mirror. The two of you rendered speechless for a moment - just gasps, moans, the slick sounds of your cunt in the room. His dark eyes on yours over your shoulder, in the glass. The firm press, scissor, pulse, of his fingers inside you.

The silence is only broken by a ragged moan from you as he presses against that delicious, spongy spot tucked away inside you, and he chuckles in response.

‘Look at you, baby,’ he breathes in your ear, ‘So pretty. Been thinking about you like this all week.’

You moan as he curls his fingers at a particularly delicious angle, pressing the meat of his palm against your clit. Your hand closes around his wrist, keeping him there, pulling him away - a mix of both. The feel of him is too wonderful to be rid of, too much to take.

‘Longest fuckin’ week of my life.’ He growls, biting at your earlobe, flicking his wrist faster again, drawing a desperate cry from your lips. A pressure building, your pussy obscene in the quiet, so fucking wet, and you can hear Frankie thinking it, marvelling at how your body responds, how you leak and clench and writhe in his grip. 

There’s that pressure building again, your breath heaving in your lungs, cunt getting slicker, tighter. Frankie coos in your ear, his other arm still banded around your middle. You hiccup, moan, arch your back against him. 

‘Fuck,’ you murmur, ‘Fuck, close.’

He hums, tracing his nose along the fine skin of your neck.

‘Yeah?’ He says, voice cracking a little. ‘S’that good? Tell me. Tell me it’s good, baby.’

You whine again, thrashing your head against his shoulder, driving your hips down onto his fingers, pleading for more.

‘So good,’ you moan, ‘So fucking good, Frankie. You have no idea.’

You can feel him rutting against you - slowly - all velvet skin, wiry hair, sticky wetness. His mouth pressed to your shoulder, licking, nipping, kissing alternately, his fingers pressed deep inside you, other arm loosening around your middle, hand playing messily with your clit. His eyes in the mirror, trapping you there with him. Unashamed in their exploration of your body, greedy, watching your soaked cunt pull him in, the sopping sounds she makes as she tries to hold him there. You’re surprised at how hot it makes you feel, how wanted, how turned on. The streak of slick and sweat against your skin, Frankie's wet fingers that spread it there.

You whine again, skin burning, glistening with sweat. Tip your head back, onto his shoulder, to nip his skin impatiently between your teeth. 

‘Frankie,’ you murmur, breath sweet against his ear, ‘Wanna come on your cock.’

‘Fuck,’ he rasps, ‘Is that what you want? You want my cock?’

You moan again, louder, drunk on the feeling between your legs, his continued movement. 

‘Yes.’ You hiss, as he sucks a mark onto your neck.

‘Say it. Need to hear you say it.’

‘Want your cock. Need your cock, Francisco.’

You swear you see his eyes roll into the back of his head in the glass of the mirror, and then he’s moving fast, with precision.

He eases his fingers from your pussy, gentle, not a drop of hesitation. He pushes your hips until they rise, tilting your whole body forwards until you’re on your knees, hands pressed into the mattress. You feel like jelly, so loose and warm-limbed you’re sure you could be moulded into any shape he wished.

‘Good girl,’ he mumbles, pressing hot kisses against your shoulders, down your spine. ‘Good fucking girl.’ 

His hands are on your hips, ready to move you, but in a second, you’re turning to face him. He’s watching you, reverent, like he can’t believe you’re here, that he’s here. You place a knee on either side of his, one hand pulling at the curls at the nape of his neck, titling his head back so you can slant your mouth against his, licking between his lips as you lower yourself gently, rocking your soaked folds over his sensitive cock. 

The movement knocks the air from his lungs, mouth stuttering against yours, unable to kiss you back. Feeling you on his fingers was one thing, but having you sliding against him like this is a whole nother. You giggle at him, and a whimper clears the back of his throat.

‘You okay, baby?’ You smirk, voice hoarse. He supposes it’s only fair, now you’ve got the upper hand. He lets you keep it, hands roving desperately, kneading and pulling at the flesh of your ass, mouth dipping to your nipple, letting you glide over him. Now processing how hard he is, how painfully his cock throbs. 

He’s ready to be greedy, ready to find out how he fits inside you. 

He pulls you up, closer, by the hips. Grips his cock firmly between your legs, swipes it between your folds, making sure to bump against your clit just to hear you whimper.

You brace your hands against his chest as you rest your leaking hole against him, the tip just breaching the tight ring of muscle. You whine, scratching fine lines into his skin.

He swallows - so handsome. Dark curls, dark eyes. Strong body, a body that feels like home, like someone who has always kept you safe, has always made you feel seen.

‘Look at me,’ he says, for the second time. You drag your eyes to him, stalling your movements. He waits until he knows your brain has caught up with your body. ‘Slowly.’ 

You nod, lowering yourself against the blunt head of his cock, clenching your teeth at the sweet stretch. He anchors you with one hand cupped to your cheek, the other firm at your ass, listening to your hiccuped moans, your shuddering breaths, releasing his through his teeth. You’re so warm, so wet, so tight.

And he fills you to the brim. Every inch you take a marvel, pressing against every nerve ending, every tender spot, like he was made for you. You settle when you reach his base, clit catching on the wiry hairs there, rocking slightly to feel him even better, letting your slick soak him, feeling yourself pull tight, loosen, ebb, flow.

You knock your forehead with his, finding his eyes. Bright, fiery, needy. You close the space between you, kissing him as you pant together. Feeling so full, so open, forgetting every worry, every niggling doubt. You rest your head in the crook between his neck and shoulder, shaking as you lift your hips, feeling the thick glide of him, clenching, releasing, dropping back down slowly, again, listening to the squelch of him moving inside you, desperate, needy little noises leaving your mouth. It’s intoxicating - the more you move, the louder you get, the louder he gets. Deep rumbles of praise, heavy grunts, hands soothing, pinching every inch of skin they can find. You grind a little more on the downwards movement this time, keening at the scrape against that bundle of nerves again, choking on your words.

‘God.’

‘That’s it, Bu- baby.’ He groans, and a huff of amusement leaves you at the slip.

‘What, am I not Bug anymore?’

It’s breathless, your tease, not your usual gnashing comeback. He groans, teeth grazing the bud of your nipple.

‘I am not using the nickname my daughter gave you when I’m inside you.’

You giggle at the thought, body clenching a little. Frankie moans, open mouthed, eyes squeezing shut, hands grasping at you.

‘Don’t laugh,’ he gasps, ‘Holy fuck, please don’t laugh. I’ll come.’

You hum, giving in, dragging your body up and down again, smooth, slow, letting the feeling, the warmth, the pressure, the ache begin to build again. You lean back a little, one hand on his thigh, one loose on his shoulder, and the change in angle has you crying out, cursing, Frankie watching your face before his eyes fall down your body - beautiful, glistening in the orange light. The curve of your waist, the quickening bounce of your tits, and then your cunt. Watches as he disappears inside you, watches as you stretch around him, watches the glisten of your wetness down his length, where it’s tacky at the bottom, staining the two of you where you’re connected. You reach back with your other hand, moving faster, leaning back further so he can really watch you fuck yourself onto him.

Your movements grow hungrier, a little more uncoordinated; stomach tensing, mouth hanging open, cut off, broken cries of his name, feeling yourself wind tighter, spill more onto his lap. He runs a large palm down your body, thumb finding your clit, catching it, rubbing firm circles. He feels you clench for real this time, whole body shuttering at the feeling, your hand clutching his.

‘Fuck, Frankie -’ you gasp, ‘Please, I’ll -’

You’re cut off as he changes his rhythm, his pressure, finding the pace that makes you moan with every breath, mouth stretching in a smile.

‘You’ll what, princesa?’

You whine, huffing, thighs burning, release so close you can almost taste it.

‘Motherfucker -’ you bite, no real venom.

‘Words, baby.’ He coos.

‘I’ll come,’ you pant, ‘Frankie - I - I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, please, gonna come, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie -’

You sob, loudly, euphoric as your orgasm shatters through you, body cramping, juddering. A gush of liquid between you, your pussy squeezing him tight, so tight -

‘Good girl, bebita, such a good fucking girl -’

And he’s flipping you, deftly, a hand protecting your skull, so you’re on your back, mind and body reeling as you continue to shudder, still calling out for him, nails carving pink half moons in his shoulders as you wrap your legs around his waist on instinct, the angle deepening, his body pressed flush to yours.

‘Fuck,’ he snarls, ‘Feel like heaven, baby, wanna watch you come every day, every hour, all the time -’ he’s babbling, he knows he is. But he’s caught up, entranced by how you look beneath him, his thrusts sloppy already, watching your eyes roll back, your chest heave, tits bounce. Lower again, where he’s fucking into you, soaked with your release. He winds a hand around the back of your neck, gently tilting your head to make you see what he’s seeing, to watch him fuck you.

You clench painfully around him, gasping - shit, Frankie, oh my God, so good, so good - your body rallying for another, senses overwhelmed, aflame with pleasure. He clutches your thigh, hitches your legs higher up his waist. Licks at your pulse point, sucks different mark there, leaning back to take you in again.

‘Look so pretty, bebita,’ he moans, ‘All fucked out on my cock like this.’

And it’s like a switch is flicked. Frankie sees it pass through your eyes, a wicked glimmer. The way the corners of your lips twitch, even as your eyelashes flutter at the sensation of him drawing his thick cock back out of you, even as your body whirs with a second orgasm.

‘Yeah, baby?’ you coo, ‘You like how I look taking your cock?’

He can’t say anything in reply, mouth only hanging open as you start to talk again.

‘Like how I look when I’m full of you? Wanna be full of you all the time, Frankie. Wanna feel you even when you’re not inside me like this. Wanna - fuck - wanna feel you dripping out of me -’

He groans roughly, almost animalistic.

‘Don’t say that.’ He grits.

You moan at his tone, fingers twisting through his hair, mind getting hazy as you flutter around him.

‘But I want it, Francisco,’ you rasp, ‘Want you to come inside me, want you to fuck me full of you -’

He bares his teeth a little, nipping at your bottom lip. Balls drawing up, heat at the base of his spine, faster, harder -

‘You want that?’

‘Please, Frankie.’

He moans again, sees stars when he closes his eyes, as your whimpers pitch higher.

‘Gonna come,’ you whisper, ‘Come, Frankie, please, come inside me -’

You’re not sure who’s first, you’re not sure who’s louder. A shout of your name, his name, ripping through the air, you clamping down around him, the jerk of him inside you as he paints your walls with his cum, fucking it into you as long as he can, the squelch, the sensitivity drawing out your highs.

He eases when it gets too much, rolling you onto your side, keeping you full until he softens enough to slip out, kissing all over your face. You share breath, teeth knocking against each other, tongues gliding along lips, whining as you feel him begin to drip out of you.

Fingers slipping against his damp skin, pulling him close, sharing whispered secrets, tugging him closer still when he starts to harden again against your thigh.

Hours slip by, the darkness behind the curtains blooming into something like daybreak. He tastes you again, fills you again, you make sure to take him in your mouth.

And when the first birds begin to sing, you are fast asleep in each others’ arms.

His fingers are tracing your shoulder, your face pressed to his chest, murmuring conversation in the light of the morning. Sun stretching through your clumsily closed curtains, rustle of the trees outside the window, cracked open for fresh air when the scent of sex was laying heavy in the room. Legs tangled together, further entwined in your sheets. 

In a moment of quiet, Frankie speaks.

‘Your picture’s fallen over.’

Twisting your head, you look to what he’s pointing out and snort, burying your face in his warm skin.

‘What?’ He asks, amusement curling the word.

You pull a face.

‘It didn’t fall over. I turned it over.’ You admit.

A beat.

‘Why?’ 

You rest your chin on his pectoral, taking in the crease of confusion between his brows. You lean to kiss it away, because you can, now. Because you never have to think about it without doing it again. 

You squeeze your lip between your teeth.

‘It’s uh - it’s a picture of me and Dad.’

He frowns again, eyes searching your face. You exhale.

‘I didn’t… I didn't want him to - see?’

He chuckles softly, pink dusting his cheeks as he swipes a hand across his jaw, thinking, remembering.

‘I didn’t see you do that -’

‘I did it before I came over.’

You cringe a little at the confession. Silly now that it’s happened, but still.

‘Before…?’

You nod. Mhm. A smile teases at his lips, eyes lighting with mischief.

‘But we didn’t - I mean - we didn’t plan it -’

‘I know,’ you groan, hiding your face again. ‘I just had a feeling.’

Frankie snorts, squeezing your hip.

‘Good feeling, baby.’

‘Asshole.’ You giggle, nipping his skin between your teeth.

He laughs again, shifting you in his arms so he can hold you properly.

‘Good job I didn’t try anything last week, then,’ he smiles, ‘Can’t have him thinking I’m not a gentleman -’

‘Frankie, you literally came in your pants -’

He gasps in mock offence, squeezing you tighter.

‘And so did you!’

You laugh, properly, against him, chests leaping against each other. You press your lips to his neck as he presses his to your hair.

‘Hell of a first kiss, though.’ He chuckles.

He feels you tense as your heart leaps in your ribs. 

One last secret.

He loosens his grip, watching you, a flicker of worry cooling his joy. You chew your lip, brow furrowing, eyes flicking from somewhere in the middle distance to meet his.

‘What, baby?’ He whispers. You inhale deeply.

‘How much do you remember from Pride?’

He grimaces, relieved at your answering smile.

‘After eleven? Not a lot.’

You hum, pulling yourself from his arms. He lets you go reluctantly, watching as you stand. Your gorgeous body - gorgeous curves, the places he’s gotten to know so well over the last few hours, the marks that have begun to bloom after his lips and teeth. 

You rummage around in a dresser draw, turning to face him with a single thin, glossy strip of paper in your hands. You step back towards him, eyes catching on the way he's sprawled out before you. Golden skin, broad shoulders, one hand behind his head, bicep flexed. One leg thrown out from beneath the covers, his modesty - or what’s left of it - barely hidden by your sheets. A flash of heat moves through you. You bite your lip.

‘Do you remember the photobooth?’

‘Mhm. A little.’

You nestle back down next to him, the slip of paper still clutched to your chest. Your eyes dart to his again.

‘Our first kiss wasn’t last week.’

‘What?’

His eyes are wide, mind whirring as you hold out the paper for him to take.

A series of five shots of the two of you. Laughing, close, and then with mouths pressed together, hungry. The last one messy, still locked in a searing kiss, but he can see the drunk grins peeking through.

He exhales heavily.

‘We kissed at Pride?’ He asks, bewildered.

You nod, twisting your hands in your lap.

‘We did.’

He looks back at you, still confused. A little worried, a little disappointed. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he breathes, ‘I don’t remember -’

You laugh, knocking his shoulder with yours.

‘Neither did I, baby.’ You say, kissing his curls.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

You suck a breath in through your teeth, shrug.

‘You didn’t remember, and I - I panicked. Didn’t know if it was just a thing for you or, you know, a thing.’

‘Like last week?’

You nod, sombre.

‘Like last week.’

He shakes his head.

‘You’re my favourite idiot, you know that?’

You scoff, brightening. 

‘Dick. I had no idea -’

‘I love you.’

The simplicity of it takes your breath away. Winds you, catches you right in the chest, battering against your heart.

His eyes are shining, and the truth of it is there. Has always been there. Somehow, you just never saw it before. 

I love you.

The weeks of wanting, of worrying. Of denying, of lying awake thinking about it -

‘I love you, too.’

His eyes crease at the corners, mouth lifting, tongue peeking from between his teeth.

‘Yeah?’ He breathes.

‘Yeah.’ You whisper. He swallows.

‘Think a part of me always has.’

There’s a prickle in his throat, heat behind his eyes. He wonders when it happened for you.

Wonders whether you had him from that first glimpse from Lucia’s room, from searching for bugs in your yard. Your tenderness with his daughter, the laughter in your eyes. From those moments you curled into his side on his sofa, when he’d come home, so relieved to find you in his house.

Knows, for sure, you’d had him long before his realisation on his porch, sand still between your toes.

He clears his throat, tangling your fingers.

‘That mean I get to call you mine, now?’

You smile, eyes watery. Hey, neighbour. I’m Frankie - from across the way. His curls in the sunshine, water balloons over fences. His broad back to you as he cooked dinner, the warmth of his arm around your shoulders. His gentle hands as you cried, phone calls through kitchen windows.

‘Please.’ You whisper.

The lightness in his beam is infectious, a tear spilling over as he kisses you and kisses you. Mine. Mine. Palms skating over skin, tangled in hair, an endless moment in morning sunshine. Your heart swells impossibly, stitched together, glued together by this man in your bed. You don’t know when he did it. But he holds it now, whole, fixing something you know your Dad never wanted to break.

‘Thank you.’ You rasp against his lips, chin wobbling. He doesn't ask what for. He knows, just by the look in your eyes. He shakes his head minutely, voice thick, quiet.

‘My honour.’

He holds you close, bodies melded together. You never want to let go, the tightness in your chest easing again as he makes you laugh, as you say it again, outloud, breathless. Mine. The whispers only broken by rumbles of noise outside, voices -

Deep voices in his backyard you can hear even from here. You groan into each others’ mouths, the sound dissolving into a laugh.

‘They’ll be wanting breakfast.’ You giggle quietly.

‘They can cook,’ he mumbles against your lips, ‘I’ve got mine right here.’

He squeezes your ass, dragging your hips against his thigh. Still wet, leaking from the two of you, something heating in his chest at the thought.

You hum, not helping the case by kissing down his chest.

‘Should really say goodbye at least.’

He grunts as you nibble at his belly, neither acquiescing or disagreeing.

‘And then,’ you continue, ‘I remember something about you keeping me in bed for a week?’

You pause, looking up at him. He curls a hand around your cheek, so tender. 

‘Me too.’ He whispers. 

You grin as you clamber back up his body, planting a firm kiss against his lips.

‘Couple of hours,’ you promise yourself, ‘And then I have you all to myself.’

He chuckles against your lips, an eyebrow lifting, repeating your words from a week ago - a lifetime ago - back to you.

‘We’ve got the whole summer, Bug.’

You giggle, wiggling your eyebrows.

‘Plenty of time for a ride in the sky, then, too.’ You grin, nudging him.

He presses a long, sweet kiss to your mouth.

‘I’d take you to the moon if I could.’

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

wearin’ that loved on look

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which a drawn out engagement leaves honey takin’ matters into her own hands. benny may or may not break a rule or two, actin’ married sooner rather than later when seeing his honey wearin’ that loved on look ;)

warnings: 18 + only. alluded sexual content but nothing super crazy. quite more poetic actually. they are pretty much pining over each other. no actual smut here but i may write a part 2 if requested or interest ensues.

word count: 4.2k

main hive 🐝

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were taking one last look in the mirror when that familiar sound of a rumbling engine echoed out on the street near your front lawn. Your stomach couldn’t help but twist up in a tight knot, your reflection staring back at you, confirming there was no turning back now. Your man was here. He was right outside, and it’d be cruel to make him wait a minute longer. Would it? Or would it be just the right thing. Sixty seconds to settle yourself. Sixty seconds to render your composure and pique his interest simultaneously.

All good things come to those who wait after all.

So you took your time – well as much time as you would allow yourself. Stepping over a lone shoe missing its match and an overall or two, you made your way over to the window to let your man know you’d be out in just a minute. On a night like this, you knew he’d keep the engine running, Itching to get to the club. Itching to get you out of your parents’ hair. Not wanting to waste a single second he could be spending with just you. So, it was only fair when you rolled up the window and hollered his name over the not-so quiet street. The sound of his engine was noisy enough to mask out the hinges of the old window panes attached to your house.

Not wanting to give too much away, you ducked ever-so swiftly as Benny’s head turned in the direction of your sweet voice. Once his eyes landed on you, all he could see was your small head, a mound of honey dewdrop curls planted up on your head like your own personal hive. And then you were holding up a finger, silently telling him to hold on for just a minute, and he of course was complying – still with a sliver of hesitance though. It was unlike you to leave him waiting. Especially on a night like this. A night that didn’t require hitting the hay early for rising school hours. No – it was a Friday night. An oddly warm and buggy Friday night, relevant over the sudden silence of his engine succumbing to the buzzing cicadas.

Mounting off his bike, he settled into a casual lean against it instead. However, his cool demeanor did not match the tumbleweed of thoughts rolling inside his head.

Were your Ma and Pa holding you back? Would they come out to talk to him? Were they finally gonna rip off the bandage and take away the blessing of marrying you he’d been working so hard to maintain?

Pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he let out a much needed breath before fishing for his pack of cigarettes in his pocket. The urge for a smoke was unbearable and warranted, so much so, that when he lit the thing up, took a look around, and really settled with his thoughts, his concerns didn’t feel as daunting as they once were. Upon inspection, your driveway was vacant, empty – confirming that one or both of your parents had to be out on the town or out of it completely. It wasn’t unusual for them to trek to another state for a festival where honey sales were of great interest, and on top of that, well – you didn’t look upset by any means. That had to be a plus there. Could it? He couldn’t recall your smile meeting your eyes through the warm honey light shining from your childhood bedroom against the deep dark night….

He was just about to take another drag when the hinges of your front door squeaked in protest, your silhouetted figure crisp against the hall lamp light. Right before you were about to close the front door completely, you peeked your head back inside, practically cursing yourself as you smacked on the front porch light.

Welp – there was truly no turning back now. Your one minute time stamp was long gone. The hair tie, that you’d already regretted taking out of your hair, was haphazardly tossed on your vanity, and the searing porch light was now burning you like a spot light. The show had begun, and boy were you giving your Benny a show.

He blinked. Once, twice, maybe three times? He wasn’t sure. Hell – how could he keep count when he was looking at you. You – his fiance, top snug in a new denim vest, decked out in patches galore, and bottom – god your bottom – in a matching mini skirt, your smooth honey tanned legs on full display. With your hair scooped down, tossed messily in a side parted wave and your form lacking its usual layers of clothes, his eyes rounded out, jaw slackened, and his pants – well they started to feel real tight around him.

Little did he know you were nervous. Real nervous to come towards him. To be out in such an outfit that was so unlike you. Sure you were known for your signature denim and fun patches, but not like this. Not out of your more appropriate school clothes that consisted of long skirts and dresses, and of course your usual overalls. And hey – there was no denying that you wore shorts every now and then on your days off. The Chicago heat was no joke on those dense warm summer days. Yet there was nothing sunny about tonight, no – not in this darkness where you felt in competition with the moon.

As you walked towards Benny, you couldn’t help but pull your skirt down ever-so slightly, the barely there length making you rather uncomfortable and out of sorts. You could only hope you weren’t mooning your house, let alone your neighbors. The last thing you needed were your parents finding out you left the house with your ass out.

Funnily enough, your worry slipped your mind the moment your eyes landed on Benny. Eyes alight, he looked like a lost puppy, begging for a treat. So much so, that the cigarette dangling between his teeth lost purchase. His jaw so slack from shock, the cylinder tipped right out of his mouth and hit the pavement. You almost laughed. You really almost did, but you bit down on your lip before it could escape you.

You were relieved to say the least, and his reaction alone reminded you why you were doing this in the first place. It wasn’t because you were fishing for his attention. You always had it. Hell – you had him wrapped around your little finger, even if you were too humble and sometimes clueless to really think so.

But here, now – there was a difference. A difference because you were not only trying to reward him for being so good to you, but also because you wanted a little something more from him. Of course you just loved being his fiance, but waiting to get married was taking such a toll on you. You wanted to be his wife sooner rather than later, and it was no help at all that your parents were being sticklers in the matter. Practically ruining your plans of getting hitched anytime soon. It was all this and that of them wanting Benny to prove himself. To show himself worthy to your parents that he would be a good fit for their daughter. You thought it was all rather counter productive. Benny had shown himself worthy to you in many ways, and there was no denying that it perturbed you that your parents didn’t trust your judgment. You were a big girl, a fully grown adult, a whole school teacher, and yet they still treated you like you were a little one.

You didn’t want to be treated like that tonight. No – you wanted to be treated like a wife. His wife.

Benny was in the midst of reaching down for his fallen cigarette, too lovestruck and drunk off your presence to realize it was long gone and better off forgotten. Funnily enough, his peripheral vision was still trained on you, making you realize sooner than later that upon straightening back out, he’d have the perfect view under your skirt. The thought made you blush all over, warming up your insides.

Before his lean fingers could snag the thing, your wedged denim sandal found purchase on the discarded cylinder, the fire burning out as your foot stomped on it. “S’dirty.” You reasoned, those pretty sky blue eyes of his boring up at you in a way that kind-of reminded you of the little school children you worked with. There was an innocence there. One that was only reserved for you, hidden beneath a tough rounded out exterior apparent to everyone else. Yet, it wasn’t all innocent. No — not in the way his features twisted up in desire.

For a second you almost thought he was gonna take you right there and then, a nosedive right up your skirt that you wouldn’t deny. But no — instead you were left wanting, aching as he straightened himself back up, warm calloused fingertips brushing against the small remnants of exposed skin between your vest and skirt, hands materializing at your hips and pulling you in.

“Honey….” He drawled, a fun little whistle rather detached from his usual deep tuned voice spurring out of him. “Wha’ I do to deserve this?” He mused, planting kisses across your neck, erupting you in giggles. “Hm?” He pressed, squeezing your sides sweetly.

In your defense, who could blame you for being tongue tied when he was all over you? Pillowy lips snagging the delicate skin of your neck, soft and sweet. “Is tha’ even a question?” You giggled again as his teeth dragged against your collarbone.

“M’serious…” he murmured into your skin, stifling the growl that was bound to escape him. “S’there a special occasion I dunno ‘bout?” He tried again, but suddenly stiffened. Lips detached from your skin, as well as his warm breath. An indication that he was holding it in. “S’not our anniversary is it? I swore it wasn’t until — fuck, m’sorry Honey did I —“ his words caught in his throat, tangled in a web of self inflicted doubt, and you hated it. Hated seeing him like this, thinking he had done something wrong. Fucked up somehow. But you were quick — so quick in assessing the situation, your hands, fingernails decked out in your usual color of choice — ballet slippers — and Benny’s ring, still snug on your honorary finger since your engagement, circled around his face.

It took him a moment, but his scruffy cheeks relaxed against your palms in an instant when your eyes met his in alarm. “No, baby. Nah. Ain’t an anniversary or nothin’. Just wanted to show y’my love. That’s all.” His pinched brows smoothed out, and you smiled as you watched the worry flee his eyes. “Betty er —“ you began rather shyly, “she uh gave me one of her old vests, y’see?” You explained, dropping your hands from his face and onto the clothing in question. “Johnny’s got her a new one, so she said I could have hers. Deck it out. Do what I wanna with it. So….” You turned on your heel, spinning in a quick circle before sing-songing a, “ta-da!” like you’d do for your students when you had some sort of surprise or good news. Usually it’d be a lollipop for each after an exam. A congratulatory treat for completing such a task!

Your nerves were still running on a high, but you flashed Benny one of your grand smiles as you striked a little pose, jazz hands included.

When it hit you what you were doing, you mentally wanted to curse yourself out for putting on such a childish act. This was all about acting like a wife, not a child! You wanted him to want you just as much as you wanted him, but what kind of motives were this?

Thankfully, your mental battle didn’t last very long. It ended quite quickly the moment his mouth opened and drawled, “Hmm….C’mere. Lemme take a closer look at ya.”

You obliged without question. Without resistance. Without any sort of hesitation. His voice always tickled you to the bone, but this — this! This was something else entirely. Something that sent honey down below in deep measure. So you stepped forward, becoming caged by his observation in an instant. His hands materialized on your hips against the rough denim of your skirt all over again. It was like he was scared you’d walk away before he’d get to really look at the art in front of him, and god were you just a whole masterpiece.

You stayed silent, giving him the space to do as such, but you couldn’t help but watch him as he drank you in from head to toe. His eyes wandered over every patch, and it made your cheeks burn when he spent extra time on the ones that really resembled you. There were the cute little bedazzled bees and a jar of honey of course, but also an apple as a little ode to your teacher status. You stitched some extra flowers you had leftover from when you were sewing patches onto your denim overall dress from school. The one you met Benny in the very first day you saw him.

“Baby….” he hummed in complete approval. “Ya real talented, y’know that? S’good. Too —“ But then his words cut out in the midst of complimenting you, and you knew he finally saw it. The patch that was just the beginning to what the back claimed, but held so much more commitment. More devotion even. In the front, on the left upper side of the vest right over your heart was a patch, shaped in such a way — a heart to be exact — with the words Benny’s Baby stitched right into it. “Wha — What’s this?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach then, worry shooting through your veins as you scrambled to complete your next sentence. “S’just a — a lil’ something. I know you were uh — real hell bent about the ring thing. Getting me a proper one or whatever so…” you trail off, nudging your purse from your shoulder so you could open up it and reveal the contents of your explanation. Benny just stared, watched you like some fascinated kid about to be gifted a candy cigarette for the first time as you took out the matching patch you made for him. One that was more daring, more forward, and far more a symbol of ownership than anything you had on yours, as far as you were concerned. “I uh — I made you one too,” you tumbled out, hands shaking as you held it out for him to see. A similar heart. Rather exact to yours. The catch? It said Honey’s Hubby in your pretty neat stitched cursive. “And look, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t wanna. I know it’s kind of silly and all, but I just thought it could be our thang, y’know? Our promise to each other but again if that’s —“

“Honey, Honey….Honey,” he rumbled out soft, smooth, and sultry, all the same, bringing your rambling to a hault. “Are ya kiddin’ me? Y’think I wouldn’t wear this?” He asked, his thumb rubbing across the indentations the stitching made over and over again. If he could mold his finger print into the embroidery, write those same words repeatedly, eternally to show his devotion, he would.

“Well I, I mean —“ you dropped your hands dramatically at your sides. “The guys….”

“What about ‘em?” Benny pressed, pocketing your creation protectively over his heart before taking a step closer to you. “I don’t care wha’ they think. Don’t care what anybody thinks besides you,” his hand circled your side once more, this time pulling you in so you were chest to chest. “Look, soon when the times right,” he let out a frustrated sigh, clearly targeted towards your parents who weren’t even in the vicinity, ”on paper, in writing, y’gonna be my wife. But right here, right now, fucking on this patch, y’already mine, kay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, your hands taking purchase on Benny’s vest, fingers trailing down the patches, down until you reached his belt, down down down until his breath caught his throat.

“Honey…” he warned, eyes drooping with heaviness. Heaviness in your desire and his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you. Hell — he always fucking wanted you. Only you. But he had made a promise to himself.

To you. For you.

He promised to wait. Wait to have all of you.

He knew he wasn’t a good guy. Knew he’d never be the good guy, but he wanted to be better for you. Do better for you. So, he decided early on — the moment he knew he wanted you to be his wife, that he’d at least do one thing right.

Sure you’d fool around. There wasn’t any way either of you could resist it. Not when Benny’s muscular arms appeared full display when a shirt simply couldn’t be an option on one of those super sweltering days. It’d be a sin not to have your hands all over him, feeling the warmth of his toned sun-kissed skin under your palms. And you — oh you, in one of your pretty little dresses, a rare sight to see on a weekday. Benny’d be kicking himself for weeks on end if he didn’t seize the opportunity, didn’t get to have his skilled calloused fingers up and under your skirt.

“Wha?” You asked innocently with batting lashes.

He didn’t move away from your touch, but stilled yours, his large hand encircling both your smaller ones hugging onto his belt loop. “Y’know we can’t….” He murmured, vibrated even. His words didn’t match what he wanted. You could tell in the way his bottom lip turned crimson as he bit down through all his restraint, and his eyes burned darker in the pale moonlight. And of course you could tell by the obvious bulge that was forming rather apparently in his jeans.

“Not right nowwww…” you trailed, pulling on the reins of his belt loop so you could be closer. “Lata, after the club. My parents ain’t home for the rest of the weekend. Won’t be home until Monday. So…Y’know what that meansss?”

“So that’s why y’dolled up like this?” He huffed, a big toothed smile in pure disbelief stretching across his gorgeous features. A rare sight to see. So rare that you almost thought you imagined his eyes crinkling at the edges in pure amusement. “To get me inta y’bed?”

Embarrassment dusted your cheeks in red heat. So hot, it left you shy in the wake of your motives. “S’not just —“ you stammered, trying to find the right words to say what you truly felt.

But you were frustrated. So frustrated. And Benny well — he was sure to fix that. Sure to get that stubborn crease out between your brows that waa forming in pure stress. “If that wha’ y’wanted, baby. Y’coulda just asked.” He mused, lips pressing against the curve of your neck, right near a sensitive spot he knew worked you up. “As much as I love all this,” he whispered, the warmth of his breathe sending a shiver down your spine as his hands traveled down your silhouette, “Y’could be wearin’ a potato sack, and I’d still find ya sexy.”

You understood what he meant, and you appreciated it. You really did. But that wasn’t the point. The point was much more emotional, more intense, more meaningful, and you weren’t gonna let it slip way. “S’not just about gettin’ ya in my bed,” you started, your lips parting and almost making you lose your train of thought as his lips edged the side of your ear. Your hands moved up the plains of his chest and you pushed him back ever-so slightly.

His lips detached from your skin in an instant and those pretty blue eyes of his locked with yours in complete attentiveness. “Then wha’ is it, Honey?”

“I know y’say I’m already yours, and I believe ya I really do, but,” you sighed, “why doesn’t it feel that way?”

“Wha — wha d’ya mean?” He asked, fingers pressing into your sides in a way that made you know he was the one gettin’ frustrated now. Frustrated that he could lose you. That you could just slip between his fingertips.

Reassuring him, you slipped your hands upward, looping them behind and around his neck lovingly. “I mean…I’m tired, baby. Tired of waitin’ to be your wife. And I’m sick of my Ma and Pa thinkin’ they can control us. Control what we want. Control our lives. Why let ‘em? When have you — Mister doesn’t let anybody tell ‘em what to do— follow the rules?”

You had a point. Benny knew that. It was rather out of character for him to be a goody-to-shoes, if you will, but this — this was different. This was him showing his honor. His dedication to you. Similarly to how he would to the club. Deep down you knew that too.

“I am too,” Benny admitted, his fingers relaxing against you, his admission draining the tension from his body. “As much as I’d like ta marry ya right ‘bout now, the courthouses ain’t open, and I know it’d break Betty’s lil’ heart if we went off and got hitched with all the plannin’ she’s up to.”

“Oh no — i know. I know we can’t do that right now crazy,” you laughed lightly before getting serious, “And y’know I’d neva’ do that to her. Neva eva.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes never leaving you.

“I just wanna be close to you. That’s all. Never feel — never feel close enough, y’know?” Now you were the one with an admission.

Benny’s features softened in an instant, shoulders slumping against your arms. You could feel his resolve slipping in the seconds that slipped by your words. He went silent for a minute. Just a minute. Sixty seconds that had the gears turning in his head. But sixty seconds that would change everything once they were through. He knew you were right about the rules. He wasn’t one to follow them anyways, and besides in the long run would it really hurt to break just this one a bit? A bit for you who was wanting to do just the same.

You who was begging to be his wife.

If it was so wrong then why did it feel so right?

“Y’wanna be closer to me? Wanna feel what it’s really like to be married, baby?” He said suddenly, taking you off guard.

He pulled you in closer, and your heart leaped in your chest. “Yes,” you said as confidently as you could.

“Then when the club’s through, I’ll stay the night and you’ll have me, ‘kay?” The words you were longing to hear had come into frusion.

Your disbelief and pure surprise made you eager to confirm they were real. “Oh Benny! Are y’sure?” You asked, practically jumping up and down.

“M’sure,” Benny laughed lightly, his heart warming at the sight of you in genuine happiness. “As y’said, when have I ever followed the rules?”

“Hm…Tha’ my Benny…” you murmured before his lips captured yours in a searing passionate kiss.

You were so wrapped in one another, not realizing how long you were standing there, that it took one of the neighbor’s lights turning on through their window in your peripheral vision for you to pull apart.

“We should go,” Benny said breathlessly. His lips were swollen and puffy with a thin sheen of your lip gloss now coating ‘em. You had to stifle a laugh when you reached up and wiped the excess off with your thumb.

You nodded in agreement, turning with him to mount the bike, but at the last second you stopped in your tracks. “Wait Benny! I forgot to show you the back.” You exasperated, stepping back.

“Hm?” He hummed in confusion, not leaving his spot on the bike, mounted and ready to go as he looked at you.

“The vest!” You explained, spinning on your heel and revealing the back. In the center, around the usual Outlaws Chicago emblem, instead of a skull in the center, you replaced it with a patch that said, Property of Benny.

You stood there for a minute. Sixty seconds in your pose, and just when you were about to open your mouth and ask if he liked it, did you suddenly feel those all too familiar arms circle around you and hold you up in the air. “Benny!” You squealed when your feet were no longer against the pavement dangling in the air.

“That’s it,” he groaned, before swooping up your feet bridal style and walking across the grass.

“Benny! What’re ya doing?” Your eyes widened in surprise as you watched him walk you in the opposite direction of the bike. To your front door. “Wha’ about the club?” You probbed again frantically.

“Club can wait.” He said simply. “Actin’ married can’t.”

That was all it took — well that and his lips molding against yours, silencing every thought you ever had once the door closed behind you two and you ended up doing just what you intended.

Actin’ married.

Because even if it wasn’t legal yet, you were bound together spiritually by your feelings and actions alone.

You became his, and he became yours on a randomly warm night under the pale moonlight.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

authors note: i apologize for how long this took for me to update! i’m just glad my writer’s block has ended & i’m back.

but anywayssss i may write a part 2 to this ;)

also if ya new here hi! welcome honey & if you aren’t but haven’t yet don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

@nervousnerdwitch

@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

@thegabbyh

@jihyowrrld

@bellesdreamyprofile

@superemobitch

@m00npjm

@imusicaddict

@astrogrande

@alana4610

@cynic-spirit

@mariaenchanted

@themorriganisamonster

@real-lana-del-rey

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

@harryandhishairclip

@themorriganisamonster

@alexa4040

@returntopresley

@imladrisofabookdragon

@madisonmontgomeryxoxo

@zablife

@superstarcherrycolagirl

@nerdy-novelist017

@anqeliclust-recs

@imladrisofabookdragon

@slowsweetlove

@artlover8992

@austinswhitewolf

@wolfofluna

[storiesfromafan]

He's My Husband, I'm His Wife - Benny x Reader

A/N: Alright, I am back with a follow up to She's A Spitfire, after a comment from @redwitchbitch1 :) I have also got another 2 parts in mind, I may have dropped the names in my Master List haha.

I wrote this last night while watching The Crow and Beetlejucie, in anticipation of the new movies coming out in the next few weeks. I was also listening to Sabrina Carpenter's new album too while writing.

Warnings: a few swear words, sass, bitchyness and a bit of petty.

Six weeks. Forty-two days. One thousand and eight hours. That’s how long you’d known Benny before you became Mrs Cross. A whirl wind of a romance. Yet it felt completely right. From the bike ride after dealing with Troy, to Benny popping the question a few days ago while taking a ride just for the fun of it, and everything in-between. It’s like Benny was your drug of choice – and you his – and neither could get enough.

When you weren’t working at your hairdresser job, Benny was there, picking you up or taking you wherever you or he wanted. You’d go with him to Vandal meetings, drink and play pool at the bar, picnic’s. Even spend days in bed, wrapped around each other. How someone felt so right in such a short time was beyond you and him, but you both embraced it. Which is why Benny wanted to seal it with making an honest woman of you, his woman. Now and forever how long you’d have him.

Your wedding day had been something to see. Nothing fancy. You in a while baby doll dress that came to your knees, white go-go boots and a short white vail, just for laughs. Benny wore a button up shirt, jacket with his colors, black jeans and dirty boots. You didn’t need him to be in a suit or tux, for Benny looked good in anything, even better in nothing. It was a simple courthouse wedding, as many Vandals in attendance that the place could hold. But the main ones where up front; Johnny, Brucie, Cal, Corky, Wahoo, Danny – who didn’t miss a beat taking photo’s – etc. Along with their respected others too. You didn’t have anyone on your side, and you couldn’t care less.

“Do you Benjamin Cross” – there were snickers from most of the men upon hearing Benny’s full name, but he didn’t care – “take (Y/N) (L/N), to be your wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her, forsaking all others, for so long as you both shall live?” the Minister asked.

Benny, holding your hands, looked you right in the eye, never wavering. “I do”.

The Minister then asked you; “do you (Y/N) (L/N) take Benjamin Cross to be your wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor him, and keep him, forsaking all others, for so long as you both shall live?”

You looked into Benny’s eyes, not wavering either, as you held his hands firmly. “Oh, I do”.

Your groom smirked at how confident you were. He knew this was it, for the both of you. No one else. This was end game. Now and always. Plain and simple.

Next was rings, or rather a ring. You didn’t expect Benny to wear a ring, but you wanted one. A simple band would be enough for you, to show whomever that you were taken. Benny made sure to get you a band with a stone in it, he’d promised you something better later on but you told him that this band was enough, it was perfect, as it was from him. Before slipping the ring on your finger, he made sure to place a kiss upon that finger, a symbol of his affection. And then that band locked it into place.

With a few more words, which you both didn’t pay mind too, as all you were focused on was each other. Drinking in this moment. Savoring how you both felt joy, excitement and contentment. Only coming back when you may now kiss the bride was spoken by the Minister.

Without skipping a beat, Benny pulled you to him by your locked hands. One hand moving you cup your cheek before leaning down and claiming your lips in a firm, but loving kiss. The cheers from the Vandals gracing your ears, bringing a giddiness to you. As you pulled apart, you both chuckled at the men.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife” declared the Minister.

With that, and a few legal formalities, Benny led you from the courthouse with you under his arm, while numerous Vandals patted him on the back. Outside the courthouse you all gathered around, with you and your husband in the center. There was talking, joking and lots of laughter. If you had a dollar for every time a Vandal called you Benny’s ball ‘n chain, you’d be sitting pretty, or have enough for a decent honey moon.

Eventually it was time to move on, the club deciding to take a long ride. Giving Benny a bright smile, your husband led you to his bike, that sported a few cans tied with string. He got onto the bike, kick starting it without a problem. Holding out his hand, Benny helped you get on the bike behind him. And waited patiently for you to tuck your dress under you, so it wouldn’t fly about or flash anyone. Once set, you wrapped your arms around your husbands waist, hands gripping the shirt over his firm stomach.

“All set wife?” Benny asked with amusement.

You moved up and placed a kiss upon his cheek. “I’m peachy, husband”.

With that, Benny pulled away from the curb, along with all other Vandals after. He held back so that Johnny could take the lead, and off you all went. With the wind in your hair, vail flying behind you, you threw your small bouquet without a care in the world. That was the start of the next chapter in your life. Only if you’d known a part from a past chapter was to come back in the future, you would have made sure to write it out.

A few weeks later...

It was a beautiful sunny day. And with such lovely weather; the Vandals, their significant others, your husband and you had showed up to a car show two towns over. You noticed the stares the Vandals got from those that didn’t ride, but chose cars. They didn’t look too pleased, but weren’t brave enough to say anything. Along with them were other biker clubs. They were more welcoming, as they understood the life of a motorcycle rider.

You were seated with a few of the other partners of Vandals, enjoying the sun with a drink. Talking about your significant others; the good, the bad and the ugly. You’d even talked about the small honey moon you and Benny took. It was just a weekend away, but it’s not like you’d left your room or anything. You both enjoyed your little wedded bubble. Taking every moment to say husband, wife and Mrs Cross. The last being Benny’s favorite. He loved you being his wife. He loved you. Just as much as you loved him.

You looked to your gorgeous husband, as he stood around with Corky, Wahoo and Danny. They were all talking, probably all bullshit of some level. Benny was smiling that melting smile of his, eyes shining with humor at whatever Danny said. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were. And it all happened on a similar day to today. If you’d hadn’t put yourself on show, would your panty dropping, now husband have noticed you? You weren’t too sure. But oh so glad he had.

“Ain’t you over the honey moon faze yet!?” Laughed Betty, as she playfully slapped your arm.

You turned to look at her, with a bright smile. “Nope. Doubt I ever will with my husband. He really sparks my spark-plug”. You wiggled your eyebrows, the women around you laughing.

“Give it time, the novelty will wear out” she replied shaking her head.

You looked back to Benny. “Hmm, no chance of that happening”.

Sensing he was being watched, Benny looked around only to find your eyes locked on to him. A dreamy, yet confident smile upon those luscious lips he’s kissed and bit numerous times. Among other things those lips had done to him and his body. Just the thoughts that crossed Benny’s mind, had him wanting to drag you off and away from prying eyes. But he had to behave himself, even just for a while. A pleasant smirk graced his face as he shot you a wink. Which only made you smile bigger. Yes, Mrs Cross was everything he needed. After the club, of course.

How did he get so lucky? Benny didn’t know. But wasn’t going to question it. He took a stab in the dark when he spoke to you a few months ago. Nor did he expect something that seemed to be fun at the time, would lead to him being married and over the moon with you. He loved his spitfire wife. He loved the sass, and he loved the lack of filter you have. It had made the time with you the more fun. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

You got up from your spot, saying you had to use the restroom. Crossing the open grass area, you headed to the public restrooms. After a short wait, you finally relieved yourself before washing your hands. Just as you were about to head back you heard your name being called. The voice sounding familiar. Turning to your left you spotted the person; Pam.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” you said with a genuine smile. Beside all the drama the last time, Pam was the nicer of the three women you once socialized with.

“I was about to say the same” she laughed. You both briefly hugged.

“How ya been?” You asked.

Pam sigh. “Yeah, same old. How about you?”

By now you both began to walk the way you’d come. “A lot has happened” you replied, about to continue before spotting two more familiar faces; Dani and Becky.

Pam noticed where you were looking, her smile dropping and a look of unease cross her face. “Maybe we should move somewhere else” she said with worry. “They weren’t too happy after that day...”

Unfortunately you both were spotted by the two women. They looked unimpressed before striding over to you and Pam. They plastered on fake smiles. Greeting them, they replied, and you shared a quick awkward hug with them. Just because they seemed icy, didn’t mean you had to be. You made your choice, and it was the best thing ever. And you couldn’t wait to rub it in their faces.

“Wow, haven’t seen you in, what – ages?” Becky said like the mean girls from high school. “Who would have thought we’d run into each other!”

You held it together, stopping your eyes from rolling. “I know! I’ve been busy with Benny and work” you replied just like her. “We were bound to run into each other, I’d have just hoped it would have been years from now”.

Poor Pam, she looked so uncomfortable. But you weren’t going to back down to these two harpies. Looking back at the time with them, you could see how fake they had been with you. So now you were going to give them it back ten fold.

“Oh, so you’re still with the Vandal, huh?” Questioned Dani, crossing her arms and popping her hip. “Thought either you’d dump him or he’d have found another chick by now, of course the later more so”. She and Becky chuckled.

You gave them a bright smile. “Sorry to burst your bitch bubbles, but we’re still together. Even better then ever really”. The look that crossed your face was like the cat that got the cream.

“Oh? Whys that, huh?” Becky asked curiously.

Without missing a beat, you drew forward your hand that held your wedding band. “He was man enough to lock me down. And it’s been the best decision I’ve made”.

Shock crossed their faces, with a touch of envy. You stood taller, feeling absolutely wonderful at their reactions. You watched as they tried to process it all. Their mouths opening before closing. Ha, take those apples, you thought feeling elated.

“Congratulations!” Pam said genuinely happy for you.

That seemed to snap Dani and Becky out of their short circuited moment. They stood stiff, putting on a cool, uncaring look upon their face, though it was obviously far from how they were feeling.

“Let us guess, it was a shot gun wedding?” Becky said snidely. “He knocked you up, right?”

Dani laughed at her friends words, while Pam protested it all.

You laughed. “Oh no, he hasn’t knocked me up. But I’d gladly give that man a kid if he asked. But till then I am thoroughly lovin’ the practice”. You smirked when they shot you a dark look.

Dani scoffed. “Of course you enjoy being on your back, a whore does”.

“You’d know, right?” You retorted, earning a growl from the woman.

You thought Dani was about to go you, and would have welcomed it, even if it would have been two on one. You could have taken them, easily. But instead a man came up, wrapping his arms around Dani, face moving to rest in the crook of her neck and shoulder. Her hands automatically coming to rest over his.

“Mmm, I wondered where ya went” came another familiar voice. When they lifted their head, you were greeted to Troy. Dani smirked with satisfaction.

Oh how you wanted to laugh in her face. But decided against it. Let her think she’s got one up on you. It will make bringing her down all the more sweeter. Troy noticed the woman in his hands not paying him any mind, turning his head he was greeted to the sight of you. His face fell, a blank look upon his face.

“(Y/N)” was all he said. No hello or anything.

“Troy” you replied.

“I just ran into (Y/N), babe, and we’ve just been catchin’ up” Dani said coolly, leaning back into your ex.

You clicked your tongue. “Huh, see you’ve moved on. Hopefully poor Sam wasn’t too heartbroken by this” you mused, unfazed.

“He’s fine” Troy said, tightening his hold on Dani.

You nodded. “That’s good. He still part of your club?”

“No, he handed in his colors...a little after this” he said gesturing to them.

“Mhmm. Alright, guess he got rid of two lots of trash” you said offhandedly. That hit a nerve.

Troy glared at you. “What was that?”

Back with Benny; he had been sitting with Johnny and Zipco. All three in conversation when he had seen you walking with one of your old friends. You looked happy, having a good time catching up. But then it changed when the other two showed up. He continued to keep any eye on you while talking and drinking his beer.

He knew you would hold your own with those women, so he had nothing to worry about. It was when Johnny said his name, did he look at the Vandals leader.

“Huh?” He asked putting his beer bottle on his bike.

Johnny lifted his head in your direction, worry on his face. “Might want to go to your wife, she might need ya”.

Confused, Benny turned to be greeted with Troy holding one of the women facing you. The scene looked a little stiff and painful. Getting up from his bike Benny kept his eyes on Troy, more then anything because he didn’t trust the guy.

“Yeah, I’ll be over there. Thanks for the heads up” Benny said, before slowly making his way to you.

“We’ll keep an eye out, if ya need us we'll be there” called Johnny. Benny just nodded his head.

He kept his eyes trained on the scene before him. Watching how Troy reacted to you, and eventually he could hear the conversation, coming in as you called them trash. That was his girl. He smiled at that no filter of yours. But he would be there if you needed protecting. Benny would always step in and guard you.

“Oh, trash?” You asked tilting your head. “I wasn’t clear? Sorry. I was implying – it means strongly suggest the truth – that you and Dani were the trash, and Sam leaving, got rid of you both. Ya follow?”

Benny smirked, shaking his head.

Troy and Dani, flustered, tried to sputter out a comeback but failed. You smiled wider at this. Knowing it was best to join you, Benny stepped up to you, wrapped an arm around your waist and drew you close as he planted a kiss to your cheek. Recognizing your husband from his hold and smell, you chuckled at him.

“Benny!” You squealed, grabbing his hand that rested on your stomach.

“Hey baby” he said sweetly in your ear. “Found ya”.

You knew that meant he’d seen what’s going on. And was here in case you needed him. You turned to face him, looking into his baby blues, silently thanking him. Before leaning up and kissing his full lips.

“Yes, ya found me, hubby” you replied sweetly, left hand coming up to caress his cheek.

You didn’t see Troy’s face, but the shock in his voice when he spoke told you everything you needed to know. “What the fuck?! Hubby?!”

You turned your gaze from Benny, a look of fake confusion on your face. “Sorry?”

Troy scowled, as he released Dani and moved forward. “Hubby?!”

You looked to Benny and then back to Troy. “Oh!” You turned your body forward, extending your left hand to Troy.

He looked down at your hand, seeing the band on your ring finger. He looked confused, before realization washed over his stupid face. “What the fuck! What’s this!”

You smiled contently. “It’s a wedding band” you replied simply. “It means he’s my husband, I’m his wife”. You said it slowly and clearly. Only infuriating the man before you further.

“I get that! By why him!?” Troy said in a raised voice.

Looking to your husband, you gave him the brightest, warm smile while staring into his beautiful blue eyes. Benny returning your smile right back at you. “Isn’t it obvious? Benny’s perfect”.

Feeling prideful, Benny lent down and planted a loving, knee weakening kiss on your lips. That was him telling you he felt the same about you. He wasn’t one to always say what he was thinking or feeling, but happily showed you it. And right now he was, along with everyone else watching.

Pulling back, he saw that twinkle of mischief in your eyes. Here it comes, that unfiltered mouth of yours. You turned back to Troy, Dani and Becky, shoulders squared as you stared them down. Now to really hit them where it hurt.

“Beside, Benny’s the best ride I’ve had” you said matter-of-factly. “Both on his bike and off”.

That was it. That was the straw that broke the camels back. Troy made a move to go for you, thankfully Benny anticipated it. He managed to move you back and stepped in front of you. He grabbed at Troy’s jacket, as the other man grabbed Benny’s. The women moved back as both of them held onto the other and pushed, trying to push the other back or over onto the ground.

Dani and Becky were calling out for Troy, trying to get him to stop. You should do the same, but you knew it was pointless. Troy had made a move to put his hands on you. That triggered red in your husband. So now all he saw was red. And it wouldn’t go away till he was happy with Troy on the ground and bloody.

Benny removed a hand, only to swing his fist to Troy’s face. It made hard contact with his cheek, sending the males head to the side. Yet neither let go of the other. Once more Benny striked, making contact. This time Troy stepped back, grip going slack. Which was enough for Benny to push him and have Troy release his hold. From there Troy took swings at your husband, a couple making contact. It was back and forth with them. They scrapped around, Benny tackling the man to the ground.

They rolled around, going back and forth with blows. All the while the women screamed, more people noticing the pair and coming closer. Included were some of the Vandals; Johnny, Zipco and Cal standing front and center. They were keeping an eye on the pair ready to pry them apart if it got too much.

Finally Benny ended up on top of Troy. Hard blow after blow to his face. Blood – from Troy or your husband – covering the man on the ground. Benny looked wild, uncontrollable as he waled on your ex. Finally Johnny and Zipco pulled Benny from on top of Troy, taking pity on the guy, who had gone up against their friend. Benny struggled against the two, but with words from Johnny, a bit of a flash from the past, Benny began to settle. Breathing heavy he spat out some blood to the side, eyes still watching the man on the ground.

Dani rushed to Troy’s side, worry on her face as she touched his face. He groaned, telling you that he was still alive, unfortunately. You watched them and thought they deserved each other. One bad apple with another.

You moved to Benny’s side, both Johnny and Zipco releasing their friend when you came to him. You placed a gentle hand on his arm, drawing his attention to you. He was still trying to catch his breath when he shot you a bright, victorious smile. You smiled, shaking your head. This man, he was just as bad as you. You with your mouth, and him with his fists. The pair you made was crazy, but in a perfect way.

You grabbed your husbands arm and started to pull him back to his bike, but looked back to Pam. “Sorry about this Pam. It was nice to see ya. Maybe we could catch up for coffee, or a drink sometime?”

She looked at you in shock, before coming somewhat back to the present. “Ah, sure?”

You smiled at her and said you would. From there you led your brave husband, followed by Vandals, back to your spot. You had Benny rest against his bike while you fetched some water, cloth and something to wrap his hands with. Once back with supplies, you cleaned and wrapped his hands, knuckles split from the beating he’d given. From there you moved to clean his beautiful face, which was starting to discolor. Meaning he’d had a fee shiners for a while. Nothing new really. What were a few shiners and some blood? Nothing new to you.

You were mindful when cleaning his split lip, hands gentle when wiping and applying pressure. While you worked away, Benny watched you closely. He wondered if you might be upset with him to some extent. He knew, you knew that he’d step in if needed. But he wasn’t sure if you were fine that he beat the shit out of your ex. On some level you might have still cared for the guy.

You cupped Benny’s cheeks with your hands, eyes moving to look into his deeply, searching. “Ya alright baby?” You asked softly, just between you both.

That brought him back. “Yeah, I am baby”.

You smiled softly at him, planting a soft kiss to his lips, being careful of the cut. “You sure? You looked deep in thought”.

Benny slowly nodded. “Just...you ain’t mad with me, are ya? For how far I took if with your ex?”

You looked at him, eyes blinking a few times. “No Benny, why would I? You stepped in to protect me, baby. I’m more proud then anythin’”. You smiled brightly, lovingly at your husband.

Benny sighed, a relieved smile washing over his lips. “Good. I was worried you’d be mad. As ya got history with the guy-”

You cut him off. “That’s just it, history. It’s in the past. You are my present and future. I’m your wife, wholeheartedly”.

Benny pulled you to him, hugging you closely, face resting in the crook of your neck. How could you know what to say to make him so happy? You giggled wrapping your arms around your man, holding him tightly. Knowing he needed reassurance you were his, and no one else’s. And you always would be.

You ran your hand through the hair at the base of his neck. “You’re stuck with me Mr Cross, no getting’ rid of me now”.

Benny chuckled, it tickling your skin, before pulling back and staring deeply into your eyes. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Mrs Cross”.

He then lent in and kissed you. It was hard, loving and toe curling. And when he deepened it, tongue entering your mouth and dancing with your own, you were a puddle in his arms. The small noises he elected from you was driving him crazy. Finally drawing back for air, Benny rested his forehead against yours. You stared at each other, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. History repeats itself, and you still had Benny there for you. And always will.

“Let’s head home spitfire. I think I need some tender, love and care” Benny whispered huskily in your ear.

You smiled. “Oh, I can do that for you, baby. Anything for my wild, crazy husband”.

A/N: I am still working on my Benny x Tomboy!Reader, I haven't forgotten. Or Cal x Sweet!Reader.

[austinbutlerslovers]

If you want to! Can you write a mini blurb with reader and Benny riding through the street, reader decides to tease Benny by... getting off on his bike, moaning softly into his ear, rubbing his front, while wearing a lil dress, and Benny decides to tease her back by driving along bumpy roads >.< u can make it as smutty if u want but ye 😆

Rough Ride

Label Mature 18+

Benny Cross One Shot (Benny Cross: The Bikeriders Fantasy Part 4 TBA ✍🏼 ⏳)

Summary Benny takes you for a night ride, and as his powerful motorcycle begins to turn you on, you make sure he knows it.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 edged by a motorcycle • groping• teasing• foreplay•fingering • sex over a motorcycle • multiple orgasms•aftercare

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 🫦 Smut Consultant @butdaddyilovehim99

Rough Ride

As Benny revs the engine of his Harley you can feel the powerful vibrations beneath you. Your short skirt flutters in the wind, revealing glimpses of your legs beneath your leather jacket as you cling onto him.

Benny promised to take you on a night ride. Knowing how much you love the excitement of being with him on his motorcycle he takes you into town for a dinner date.

The night air whips past as the thrill of the ride courses through your veins and you wrap your arms tighter around him, feeling the heat of his body through his jacket.

“Where are we going?” you shout over the roar of the engine, your voice tinged with excitement and curiosity.

“You’ll see,” Benny replies, his voice filled with promise. “Just hold on.”

As he revs the engine harder, you feel the familiar sensation beginning to form as the bike vibrates between your legs.

Riding Bennys powerful motorcycle turns you on and this time you decide to let him know.

“I can’t wait, Benny,” you grin leaning closer against him and letting your hands explore. Your fingertips wander along the hard muscles of his chest and trail lower down to the panes of his abs before landing seductively on his thighs.

“Baby if you keep that up, we won’t make it to dinner without me pulling over.” he smiles, his voice teasing as he glances back.

You lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want Benny,” you whisper, your voice low and sultry as you bring your hand down between his legs and grasp the large bulge of his cock in his jeans.

Benny groans realizing how much you want him and his grip on the handlebars tightens as he fights to keep control of the bike.

“What’s got you so hot tonight baby?” he asks, his voice breathless and eager.

“The way your bike vibrates under me Benny” you reply your voice laced with desire “Every time you rev the engine it drives me wild.” you confess rubbing your hand along his hardening cock. your nails grazing against the denim over his shaft.

With his focus split between the road and the sensation of your hand edging him, he regains control by quickly revving his engine sending shockwaves between your legs making you moan in his ear.

“Like that?” he asks low and teasing.

“Yes Benny,” you reply, gently squeezing the tip of his cock. “Do it again.”

He glances back at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Hold tight baby.” He says and you cling to his waist as he veers off the main road taking you down an old, gravelly path.

The bike begins rocking between your legs making your core pulse and you hold him tighter, your nails digging into his sides as you fight to calm your urges.

“Benny” you moan softly in his ear as the rough gravel of the road makes the bike bounce more. Each jolt sends waves of arousal through you as the vibrations intensify the sensation between your legs.

“Almost there,” he says, his tone a mix of reassurance and anticipation. “Just a little farther”

Every movement on the seat begins rubbing you in just the right way, heightening your desire until you can barely hold back.

“Benny, oh God!” you moan in his ear, your voice trembling with need as the motorcycle continues to jostle beneath you pressing your clit.

“Patience, sweetheart. Don’t come just yet.” He grins slowing the bike as you reach the end of the road. It opens to an empty field and he cuts the engine placing the kickstand to the sound of silence.

“You’ve been teasing me this whole ride,” he says, glancing back. “Now it’s my turn.”

You bite your lip, the arousal is almost unbearable as your core pulses between your legs.

“Don’t tease me Benny,” you plead, your voice trembling with need. “The bike already did that” you confess looking into his eyes with lust.

Benny grins wickedly as he dismounts, pulling you off and guiding you to lean over the seat, your hands gripping it tightly.

“My bike got you like this?” he asks, his voice low and teasing and you nod as a shiver of anticipation runs down your spine.

“Let’s see just how much you enjoyed that ride,” he says, lifting your skirt and exposing your skin to the cool air. His warm fingers brush against your soaked panties, and you clench inside as he continues to explore your covered folds.

“I’m taking you on rides more often” He muses, his eyes glinting with desire as his fingers teasingly trace the edge of your panties before slipping beneath them. His touch is firm yet gentle as he strokes your wetness, expertly finding your most sensitive spot.

A soft moan escapes your lips as you shift your hips back, pressing into his touch. “Benny,” you breathe, your voice filled with need. “Your fingers feel so good.”

He grins, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I’m just getting started,” he replies, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down,

Your breath catches in your throat, and you let out a soft, needy whimper in anticipation.

“Look at you, already begging for it,” he grins and glides his calloused fingers over your bare skin, the feeling of them slipping through your slick folds making you moan loudly as he circles your clit with his thumb.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, watching your reactions with intense focus. “Let me hear you, baby.”

He slides two fingers inside of you, curling them slightly, with his thumb circling your clit.

“Benny, oh God!” you cry out, your nails digging into the seat of his bike and he begins thrusting his fingers in and out, the ring on his middle finger tapping against your pussy.

“You’re so tight around my fingers,” he breathes. “Can’t wait ‘til you’re around my cock.”

You moan at his words and he roughly glides his finger in and out curling and pressing against a sensitive spot that sends jolts of pleasure through your body.

“I’m so close Benny.” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. Your words spur him on, and he intensifies his movements, driving his fingers deeper and faster to push you over the edge.

Your back arcs as your core tightens, each breath coming out in short gasps. His fingers thrust deliberately, curling harder and reclaiming the sweet spot that makes you moan even louder, building the pressure relentlessly until you can hardly stand it.

“Gonna come, baby?” he asks, fingering you at such a fast pace the sounds of your wetness smacks against his knuckles.

“Yes Benny” you cry out trembling as your walls convulse around his fingers in anticipation of release.

He leans in closer, his voice a low, seductive whisper against your ear. “Do it, baby. Come for me.”

His words push you over the edge and you orgasm, the intense waves of pleasure crashing over you, as you cry out his name.

Benny watches you with darkened eyes as you push back against his hand, wanting every inch of his fingers as your moans mingle with the slick squelching sounds of your release.

He quickly unzips his pants with his other hand pulling out his long thick cock stroking it as he slips his fingers out of you. He slowly pushes his cock into your entrance and your walls struggle to fit around him as he refills you with his size.

“Benny!” you whine as the sensation becomes overwhelming and he grips your hips, firmly pulling you back and guiding you all the way on his large cock. Once he stretches you completely he begins to thrust, deep and relentless.

“Oh god, Benny!” you moan, your nails gripping the bike as you endure his powerful thrusts.

“Please, don’t stop,” you gasp, your voice filled with a mix of pleasure and desperation.

“I won’t stop,” he pants, his eyes closing as he enjoys the sensation with each thrust. “I love how you take me,” he rasps, his voice thick with desire.

“Benny, yes!” you scream, your voice mixing with the rhythmic sounds of his wet cock plunging in and out. The sensation of being filled and stretched around him sending waves of pleasure coursing through your core.

He begins thrusting harder, his cock perfectly hitting all the right spots, making you moan louder as he pushes you to the edge. The sound of his hips clapping against you begins filling the air, each smack resonating with a raw intensity as your body trembles on impact and you lose yourself to the moment.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasps, his voice rough with desire. “Take it all..”

His breaths come faster and more ragged as his grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he drives into you with force.

You can feel him getting closer, the pace of his thrusts quickening, each snap of his hips more forceful than the last as his moans grow louder and more desperate. Suddenly, his entire body tenses, and you feel the pressure within him, ready to explode.

“Fuck…I’m gonna come,” he rasps through gritted teeth, and with a final deep thrust, he comes inside of you, his release sending you over the edge once more.

The warmth of his release spreads inside of you as your muscles contract, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as your body trembles, clenching around him with every pulse.

His cock empties into you painting your walls, and he waits panting and spent, before slowly pulling out of you, both of you catching your breaths as he puts his cock away.

You calm your breathing as you brace yourself over his bike and he pulls your panties up and over your hips, his fingers lingering as he adjusts the bands.

“Keep it all inside for me baby,” he teases, rubbing gently against the damp fabric covering your heat and you shiver at his words, a thrill running through you feeling the warmth of his cum still inside. He pulls you to him and wraps his arms around your waist. “I will Benny,” you reply, meeting his gaze with a playful smile.

He grins, clearly pleased with your response, and leans in to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His fingers tracing circles on your lower back as he holds you close. When he finally pulls back you let out a soft, satisfied sigh, leaning into him. “Benny I have to admit, I’m starving now.”

He laughs at your response. “That was the plan before our little detour,” he teases, “Let’s go eat,” he says, mounting his bike with smooth confidence.

He starts the engine with a roar, the vibrations echoing as he extends his hand and pulls you on behind him.

You wrap your arms around his waist as he revs the engine, the anticipation of the ride filling you with excitement. “Be good back there,” he grins over his shoulder.

“I’ll try Benny,” you tease, leaning in close and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But I can’t make any promises.” You smile tracing your fingertips playfully tracing along his waist.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says with affection and reaches back with one hand giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. You smile at his loving gesture and rest your face against his back, feeling the heat of his body through his jacket.

As the bike takes off, you hold onto him tightly, the wind rushing past as the steady thrum of the engine vibrate beneath you once again.

🏍️ END 🏍️

*Benny Cross Part 4 will be up soon(had to get the biker wedding to Benny just right 🤌🏼)😮‍💨🙏🏻

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List 🏍️ @finley-08 @ashleybutler-26 @ifuckindontknow @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @autumnleaves1991-blog @presley1992 @rose-deathman @sillylittlethrowaway @lillypink @faephoria @butdaddyilovehim99 @nostalgichoya @ausssbutlershortstories

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

[hellishjoel]

uneasy hearts weigh the most

7.3k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist | Notifications Blog

summary: Benny hosts the party of the year where broken pieces of Frankie's past are unearthed. warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), smoking and drinking alcohol, reader is described to have hair (not descriptive of what color/length/etc.), house party, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), swearing, pet names, allusions to bad parenting/parental abuse, vivid writing of a mental disorder [capgras syndrome] and an accompanied nightmare, descriptions of violence against a parental figure, descriptions of a parent abusing drugs and alcohol (please heed these warnings and do not read if you are concerned these may be triggers) A/N: I know this has been in the works for a while and I thank you for your patience! special shoutout to @thetriumphantpanda who beta'd this for me!! I owe her a 100 grand bar now! listen to the song uneasy hearts weigh the most and I'll kiss you on the forehead

Yeah baby, keep fuckin’ my fingers. “Do it again,” he mutters.  You moan louder as you gyrate your hips once more against his fingers, grinding your core against his knuckles.  “Fuck, baby,” he whispers with adoration.

The last time Francisco Morales saw his father was when he was punching his face in. 

It was a blur. 

Blood splattered across his face, neck, and shirt. His fist was crimson, his knuckles ached. But he couldn’t will himself to stop. 

Frankie would draw his arm back, using as much force as his little twelve-year-old body could muster, and plunge his whole body forward as he landed another hit. He couldn’t stop himself from crying, even when he was at his angriest. 

Why was he crying? Why couldn’t he stop crying? 

Frankie’s dad wasn't exactly father-of-the-year material. More like a drill sergeant with a drinking problem. When things got tough, he’d ditch his family for drugs and booze and only ever circle back when money turned to dust. 

His mom was falling apart before his eyes. His younger siblings were fearful because their mom, who was supposed to take care of them, couldn’t, and their father, who was supposed to love them, hurt them. 

Frankie was the oldest; he felt an obligation to protect everyone. But what can you do when you’re not even five feet tall?

If his father hadn’t been so strung out that night, Frankie wouldn’t have been able to tackle him to the ground like he did. He wouldn’t have been able to pin him down by fisting his ratty t-shirt and hit him like he did. As hard as he did. As many times as he did. 

Then, his father lay lifeless. Frankie blinked away his tears and let out a shaky sob. He got scared because he thought he had killed him. After all those puny hits, he laid limp. He wasn’t smart enough to know that he had just passed out from the drugs in his system. 

Frankie was so torn because how can you hate someone you’re supposed to love? How could his father leave the family he was supposed to be the foundation of? 

The Texas Department of Family and Protective Services intervened not long after. And he doesn’t like to think about it, any of it. 

Not growing up, not his family, nothing. 

But now he’s staring at a letter from his father. It’s his handwriting; the slant in the L’s, and the hook of his Y’s. Slightly smeary, written in pencil with eraser shavings damn near burned into the lined paper. He wrote this letter over and over again, trying to author the right words, to say the right things. 

Frankie’s heart stops, and all the memories rush back in a flood. It hits him like a fucking hurricane. 

Tommy’s Diner settles after its Friday night dinner rush. The hour before closing was always erratic, putting together to-go orders and ushering stacks of dirty plates from the tables to the back sink. 

Your shoulder blades collide with the swing door connecting the kitchen to the rest of the diner, using the force of your body to swing it open as you balance the ceramic plates in your arms. 

“Sorry, Lou. Just a few more.” You mutter tiredly as you set the stack beside the teenage dishwasher, hearing him sigh loudly before putting his earbuds back in place. He wasn’t one for many words. The most you knew about him was he listened to cringey, whiney rappers. 

You close your eyes for just a moment and lean back into the counter, craning your back and feeling each vertebrae realigning with anguish. Tina called in sick and you offered to work a double to pick up some extra hours this week. Besides, on days you didn’t work with Frankie, you were more… productive. 

The hum of customers gradually subsides, their chatter tapering off until the bell above the door chimes, signaling their exit. It’s nicer like this, when you don’t have to be the charming server who keeps up with all of their conversations from table to table. Especially after pulling a double, and your brain feels like it might melt. 

The staff worked diligently throughout the rest of the night, tidying up the tables and floors, not letting up until the countertops gleamed, the coffee pots shined, and the strong smell of cleaning fumes mingled in the air. 

You grow a fond smile thinking about spending the summer with Frankie. He adores being outside far more than you do. It’s impossible not to imagine how stupidly sexy he would look with his skin glowing a golden tan and a pair of sunglasses sitting lazily on the bridge of his aquiline nose. Loose, flowy shirt and a pair of shorts. Curls lost to the wind. 

He talks about taking you on nature walks through his favorite trails and driving you further out of your nowhere town so you can stargaze at midnight. Or maybe you could hit the beach and spend your days under the sun drinking margaritas and Coronas. 

Summer could change things for you. 

Admittedly, you’ve been fantasizing—romanticizing. You think about him even when he’s not around. You miss the home you’ve made on the open side of his bed, where you’d curl around his orange tabby cat with his arms circled around your waist. 

Worst of all were the nights you were back at your place, where there was no one around to cook you dinner or dish out goofy conversations. Having to snake touches over your own body, over the curve of your belly, and sinking your fingers past your panties where the only remnants of Frankie is you muttering his name at the peak of your orgasm, wishing it was him showering you with his affections rather than your fingers or toys. 

God forbid you enjoy solo sessions anymore because Frankie has totally ruined that for you. It wasn’t as fun knowing you had a brown-eyed, curly-headed man across town who would beg on his knees given the chance. 

Anyway. Enough of that. 

You count the till’s cash, level out the profit, and put it all in a small bank bag before your manager, Carla, tucks it inside the safe. The metal keys on your carabiner clip jingle upon flipping the lock, the cool night air tickling your skin as late spring shows its face under the velvet night sky. 

A truck rumbles up the drive, and you know the signature death rattle all too well. 

“What are you doin’ here?” You lean against the driver's side of Frankie’s truck once he pulls up to you, your sneakers shifting gravel, his mouth tilted in a smirk. He leans past the truck’s frame and kisses you, cradling the back of your head to keep you against him. 

“Mmm,” he hums against your mouth, tasting cherry chapstick as he glides his tongue across your lower lip. “Get in. Benny’s having a house party.”

Eyes narrowing, you run your thumb up his beard scruff and gently scrape your nails down the dark hair. “I need to go home to change. Plus, I need a shower. I smell like grease, and I have grime under my nails.” 

“Fine, I’ll take you back to your place. I can wait.” 

A breath stalls in your lungs, eyes unblinking as you stare at him for a moment. 

Frankie has yet to visit your place — your dungeon, a basement-level one-bedroom apartment made up by a measly excuse of a kitchen and a tiny living space. You’re by no means embarrassed of its appearance. You’re rather clean, and you’ve made it as homely as you possibly can with bright-colored rugs and wall art. But it was sort of your final boundary. He was literally about to pass the threshold. Master the final boss. 

He’s let you have your space and never pushed you. The least you could do was say,

“Okay.” 

A contagious grin catches his lips, pulling you closer by the hand still cradling the back of your head, and he takes you in for a few more slow kisses. 

A car’s honk and bright lights jolt your heart, and your eyes squint until the flashers go down on the car Frankie has parked in.

“Can you two lovebirds hurry it up?” your manager, Carla, yells from the driver's seat of her rust-red 2006 Honda Civic. “You’re blockin’ me in, Francisco.”

You purse your lips with embarrassment, heat flushing the back of your neck. Carla was going to find out one way or another that you two have been sneaking around. She knows everything about everyone. 

“Hey, sorry, mama,” Frankie nods as she shakes her head slowly, mouth tainted with a smirk. 

“I’ll follow you back to your place,” Frankie whispers and you nod shyly, wrapping around the front of his truck and letting him tail you home. 

Frankie takes two steps at a time down to your basement-level apartment. His boots thump against the cold stone, and you push the front door open with the force of your shoulder. 

His eyes drag along the different pieces of the apartment that make you, you. Soft blankets that drape along the back of a loveseat accompanied by little, fluffy pillows, different pairs of sneakers sit stacked beside the front door, and a small table for two holds random clutter in the criminally tiny dining room. 

He follows your lead and kicks off his shoes, watching you unfold into your natural routine: you drop your bag on the kitchen counter, and your fingers are already tugging a black hair tie loose. He trails you down a narrow hallway, squinting as you turn on the harsh overhead lighting to the bathroom. 

Out of your clothes without a second thought, Frankie can’t help but laugh at the way you fling your bra past his head, tunneling down the hallway and landing in what he presumes is your bedroom. The shower curtain is something abstract, most likely purchased from the Target down the road. 

“I’ll be quick if you wanna wait outside,” you offer, body shielded by the curtain. 

Frankie shrugs, eyes glancing to the toilet opposite the shower.

“I don’t mind waitin’. Wanna tell me about your day?” Frankie asks, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid. He sees you fight away a timid smile and slink behind the shower curtain. The beads of water hit your body and change the tune inside the bathroom. He can tell each time you shift and twirl. It takes you a moment to become acquainted, but you retell the details of your day in a sweet lull. 

“I, uh, I usually listen to music when I shower,” you admit between the spray. 

“Oh, so you want me to start singin’?” Frankie asks with a smirk, to which you quickly shout no! 

It doesn’t stop him from breaking into a pitchy rendition of a song by the Bee Gees. 

After a fit of laughter, you both settle down, and Frankie is back to smiling at the sheer, cheaply-made shower curtain. He can see your silhouette dance under the shower head, gathering your hair and rising out the suds, grabbing a loofa to scrub away the worst of the grime from Tommy’s Diner. 

Holy shit, Frankie thinks, you smell like heaven. Oh my god, he likes you. It hits him like a bullet to the chest, the impact rippling through his veins and making his heart beat so loud that it rings in his ears. It’s a silent reminder that feeling things are beautiful when they are about you. 

The bathroom grows steamy, fogging up the glass of your medicine cabinet mirror. His skin grows clammy and his knee starts to jump in anticipation. 

“I’m almost done!” Your voice sing-songs as he slips off his jacket, his eyes still cast upon your body beyond the curtain. He’s in love with the way your body moves, fluidly and without intention. You’re just taking a shower and he thinks you’re beautiful. 

Just as you’re about to flip the water off, the curtain rings screech to open. 

“Frankie,” you breathe, eyes falling to his exposed tan skin. No other words come to mind other than another breath of his name. 

His lips attach to your neck, slow but faltering. Like he’s searching for the one spot to push you over the edge and join him in oblivion. 

The tension in the air rises as the water cascades down his back and soaks his dark curls. His frame, large and broad, protects yours as his arms circle your waist like wild vines.

Your eyes slowly fall closed, lips parted as your head eventually tilts back and rests against the shower wall. It exposes more area for Frankie to explore, his palms kneading at your lower back, arching your torso into his own. 

His teeth skim along your skin, the steam already forcing your flesh to glow and rise under the growing pressure of his hunger for you. 

He begins to navigate a new path, his lips finding purchase above your breastbone. Your fingers start at his biceps, feeling the strong muscles protruding underneath. He’s so unbearably handsome, and you can’t believe his body is fitting in the small shower stall with you. 

Finally, a heavy breath slips, something that resembles a moan. After that, he’s starving for you. 

The teeth that were once just grazing your skin, now nipping and sucking. His hands fall lower down the curve of your ass, squeezing and lifting as you gasp into his ear. You're dripping with arousal that sits achingly between your legs. 

You place a slender hand over his more muscular one, guiding it between your legs and gently cupping your mound. 

“Please,” you whisper, like the only thing Frankie needs to hear. 

He paints your mouth in a wet kiss, drowning any better judgment that may have resided. 

Intertwining your feelings together, the steam buckles heatedly in the small space. 

His fingers curl in your hold, swiping between your folds and feeling you. There’s a whimper let out against his ear, nipping at his lower lip once his fingers push past your threshold. 

And he groans. 

You’re so fucking tight, so fucking perfect for him. His forehead lays against your temple, your nose brushing against the coarse hair of his beard. Frankie sinks his fingers into you, knuckle-deep, and leaves you squirming under his hold. His fingers are so thick, it’s a bittersweet symphony the way your moans mingle in the air.

He’s got you cornered in the shower, body pressed against the hot mold. Two fingers move fluidly inside, stretching your core and stoking the burning embers that rest low in your stomach. 

“There,” you breathe, gasping as he adds more pressure to one spot that makes your legs nearly collapse out from under you. He still has you locked with an arm around your waist, holding what’s left of your presence. 

He’s skilled, his thumb finding your clit, and you want to scream at the way his fingers are long enough to fuck into you and massage your aching pearl at the same time. He’s the only one who can make you unfold like this.  

“Christ,” he mutters into your ear as he feels your walls desperately clench around him. “You can take another, can’t ya, baby?” 

His brown eyes melt you, waiting for your confirmation. You sigh weakly but ultimately nod. It’s all you can think about. 

He groans as he works a third into your entrance, and it burns, the way your pleasure mixes with the pain. 

You wrap an arm weakly around the tops of his shoulders, nails etching into his skin in a last-ditch effort to keep yourself able in his arms. 

“Fuck, Frankie,” you whine, long and bratty almost. You’re so close already, he knows just how to get you to the brink. 

You tingle at his touch, your muscles going numb as he fucks his fingers at a now unrelenting pace within your tight core. 

He works you to the edge, feeling the tick of the timebomb slowly begin to set off inside you. 

With all the energy you have left, you swing your leg up and hitch it on his hip. 

He looks bewildered for a moment, shocked eyes meeting your own as you rest your shoulder blades back against the shower wall with enough room to move your hips. You begin rolling your core down onto his fingers and he makes a noise resembling praise. 

Yeah baby, keep fuckin’ my fingers.

“Do it again,” he mutters. 

You moan louder as you gyrate your hips once more against his fingers, grinding your core against his knuckles. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers with adoration. 

He watches your body with fascination, Frankie’s eyes obsessively taking in your movements. His lips are quick to bow down at your alter, lips latching onto your exposed nipples that perk up in his mouth with all the attention. It makes a tingle shoot down your spine, only making your hips move faster as you fuck yourself down onto his fingers. 

Frankie kisses down your body until he’s sunk down onto his knees, damn near growling as your hips grind against his awaiting mouth. He latches his lips to your clit and harshly suckles, causing a high-pitched whimper to leave your mouth. 

You’re so close and he knows it, he can feel your thighs trembling under the heat of his palms. It’s the only thing holding you up at this point. Weaving your fingers into his watered-down locks, you grip them tight and keep Frankie close. 

He chuckles lowly, eyes flicking up to yours and seeing the desperate look cast over them. 

“You wanna come?”

Like he even has to ask. 

“Please,” you say, desperation leaking from your voice as you feverishly nod. 

Frankie tsks playfully, humming lowly against your clit. “Love when you beg for it, sweetheart.” 

Frankie circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, making out with your pussy and lapping away at your sweet juices. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing his fingers to move with more precision. 

You can feel your muscles contort as he starts to massage your spongy sweet spot. It’s enough to make your jaw drop and heat to spill down your spine. Your fingers clench his curls tighter between your fingers, holding him against you as your orgasm finally breaches. 

The leg hooked onto his shoulder shakes with each uneasy wave of your orgasm. The shower’s heat leaves you breathless, crying out in pleasure as your body shudders. 

Frankie smirks as he slowly loosens his fingers from your entrance, taking each finger into his mouth, one, two, three. His tongue swirls around each digit before he inches your leg back to down to the shower floor, planting your feet on solid ground before he stands and twists the shower’s handle. 

It only takes a few seconds, but the high of your orgasm and the heat of the shower makes you lose your sense of self. Your legs tremble and your hands feverishly grip Frankie. 

The ringing in your ears slowly fades away as he snaps the handle on the shower, letting the room calm into gentle silence. 

“Hey, hey,” he whispers as he wraps you in his arms, feeling weightless as he talks you down. “Wow,” he breathes, “never had a woman faint from how good-”

“Stop,” you laugh breathlessly, peaking your eyes open, and seeing the glittering haze of the handsome man in front of you. Water droplets run down his face, cascading down his neck and gliding horizontally across his shoulders. 

“I like hearing you talk about your day.”

Innocent eyes meet his own and you nod. “Okay.”

Frankie wasn’t joking when he said his friends threw a house party. They threw a goddamn party. 

After winding down a long gravel road about thirty minutes out of town, you arrive at a two-story classic country home. It’s surrounded by acres and acres of green grass and tall trees in the distance. The most action this house has seen in years is most likely deer or coyotes. 

And now it was seeing the house party of a lifetime. 

“Frankie,” you breathe out in disbelief once he parks his truck in the grass and kills the engine. “Whose house is this?”

His mouth tilts in a smirk as he peers forward up at the house, not sure if he’s staring at the long string lights that reach from one side of the home to the other, or the drunkards climbing onto the roof. 

“Will and Benny’s, after their grandfather passed away. Pretty sweet, huh?” 

The crunch of a beer can under your shoe is the first thing you hear, other guests quick to park their vehicles and rush inside with cases of beer on their shoulders. The echoes of the partying inside could be heard from the dirt driveway, Frankie wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he escorts you in. 

A chorus of people bump against your shoulder as they step outside, laughing hard and obviously tipsy. 

“What is this place?” You mutter in slight amazement and curiosity. 

“Come on, I’ll give you the tour,” Frankie whispers against your ear, making a tingle slip down your spine as you playfully nudge your elbow somewhere between his ribs.

He walks you through the living room, easily the most filled room in the house by the looks of it. All the furniture has been pushed aside and a band resides at the forefront of all the chaos. The lead singer and guitarists stand on the sitting area of the recessed mantle. The cheering rings in your ears and the bass thumps through the floorboards, electrifying everyone’s bodies to move and dance. 

Off the dining room is the kitchen. You can’t really tell how modern or outdated it is due to the sea of people making drinks. Frankie reaches through the hoard and retrieves two beers, popping the top off yours and slipping the cold bottle into your hand. 

“Thanks,” you mutter as you clink your bottle with his. 

Aside from the noisiest parts of the house, there were chill places where people were talking and sharing ideas or the latest things that were happening in their lives. You try not to laugh as a woman swaying in a hammock accidentally falls out, landing with a thud. Thankfully, her friends in the bean bags below caught her with bellows of glee. 

“Best part,” Frankie whispers to you as he opens the door to a nearly pitch-black room, only lit by two lanterns at the very front of the mostly wood study. People are sat on the floor, whispering and shushing each other as you and Frankie fill in quietly towards the back.

“And now, may I present to you, Santi, the Significant!”

Your eyebrows furrow as Santiago steps in front of a white flashlight’s spot, bowing ridiculously as everyone laughs. 

“Santi the Significant?” You whisper as Frankie chuckles quietly and nuzzles his nose against your temple. 

“He thought Magnificent wasn’t spectacular enough, or kitschy.”

“He performs real magic? Isn’t that kind of…” At the risk of offending one of his best friends, he fills in the blank for you.  

“Nerdy?” Frankie snidely smirks and shakes his head. “Works better than you think. Watch.”

You're skeptical about the magic act, but you can't help but be impressed as the confident Santi pulls roses from his jacket sleeve and hands them to the most eligible ladies in the audience, eliciting gasps and enthusiastic applause.

“No way,” you shake your head as Santi continues a few close-up magic tricks, enough to keep his drunk audience convinced. After a few more card tricks and cheesy jokes, the crowd applauds and whistles.

“That’s all from me today, folks. If you want my number, please see me after the show.”

“Dear god,” you mutter, hiding your face in Frankie’s shoulder. “How is this working?” You ask as a group of young women circle Santi with praise and lusty eyes. “Should I go ask for his number? I was pretty wooed back there.”

Frankie tuts as he ushers you out of the study. “Absolutely not.”

The entire night thrives on high energy with a constant flow of surprises. The decor of pink plastic flamingos and a surprise disco ball is making this everyone’s night one to remember - as long as the guests don’t drink too much. 

You’ve let Frankie go to mingle with his friends while you keep an intoxicated Benny at bay sitting at the top step of the staircase that looks over most of the party. 

“Quite the bash, Benny.”

“Thank you, m’lady. You’re enjoying yourself?” He slurs and sways, even while sitting. 

“I didn’t even know this many people our age live around here.” Your head rests against old yellow wallpaper, the design mostly faded and lightly curling at the floorboards. Your finger plays with the exposed edge, fighting the urge to tear it off or keep peeling it. 

He hums and throws an empty beer bottle behind his shoulder, hearing it clatter against the wall. “The best distraction for someone like me is people. I like people. And everyone needs a good distraction.”

You narrow your eyes on Benny curiously, the disco ball flashing along the bedazzled beads hanging around his neck. “Distraction from what?”

Benny seems like a very happy person, but it’s moments like these that reveal one's vulnerability. He slowly shakes his head with a very telling smile, gently squeezing your shoulder as he sighs. “It’s okay,” he slurs, “it’s why our friend group gets along so well because we all need distractions.”

He speaks so knowingly, almost like a prophet speaking in riddles, so you decide to amuse him. 

“Yeah? What about Frankie? He needs distractions too?”

Benny hums and points at Frankie down below. You peer through the wooden balusters, seeing Frankie mix and mingle with a drink in one hand and a lit joint in the other. He takes a hit and sputters up a cough as he laughs at what his group is saying, making you smile. 

“Frankie… is a very special case. He’s uh,” Benny’s eyes droop, his head resting on your shoulder as he closes his eyes and relaxes with your presence. 

“He’s what?” You whisper, reassuringly running a hand up and down his back. 

Benny lets out another sigh, breath reeking of alcohol. “You’re a good distraction for him. ‘Nd I don’t mean a distraction like a bad thing. You’re… You’re very good for him. He’s had a hard life and y’know, I’m sure he’s told you. But now he’s happy again.” 

Your heart hammers in your chest and you’re afraid Benny might be able to hear it. The large grandfather clock standing by the front door chimes, and you can’t read the time from this distance, but by the multiple rings, it must be midnight. 

And before you can stop him from spilling, Benny shares maybe more than he should. 

“Y’know with his dad. His whole family, really. His mom has capybara… no, not capybara syndrome.” Benny pauses to laugh before finishing. 

“Capgras syndrome? She just wasn’t all there when he was growing up and she didn’t get the help she needed until later in… in life. Frankie was just a kid and all of his siblings were, y’know, younger than him. Plus his dad wasn’t around to help her, drunk asshole that he was probably wouldn’t have been much help anyway.”

You stare straight ahead, watching your happy goofball down below with a new view.

“So his mom was there but not really there. He hasn’t seen his dad in years, but now, he’s back around and sent Frankie a letter or some shit. I don’t know what about. But everything has just sort of sucked for him for a long time.” Benny scoffs and lays his forehead against your shoulder, muttering now. “Especially that damn letter. ‘Nd his damn dad. But you know about all of this already.”

No, you didn’t. You’re stunned into a soft silence, the hand on Benny’s back slowly falling. 

“This party and you, good distractions. But Frankie told me he started having nightmares again.”

Suddenly very awake and alert, Benny sits up straight and looks you in your eyes. “Don’t let him drink too much tonight, okay? He’ll start spiraling if he thinks about this shit too much. Keep… keep being a good distraction.”

Benny pauses and clenches his stomach, his face turning a little pale. “Fuck,” He mutters as he quickly shifts onto his knees and crawls up the opposite side of the staircase, pushing himself to his feet and rushing towards the bathroom.  

The buzz of the party slowly fades, like the sound of snow falling outside. It’s a silence that isn’t silence at all. Everything falls into slow motion, the confetti falling and the disco ball gleaming all halting mid-air. 

You weren’t supposed to know this much, or Frankie would have told you if he wanted to. But now as you stare down the staircase to Frankie, seeing him throw his head back in laughter, it’s hard to imagine someone like him had a past like that. 

Benny was drunk. Maybe he was mixing Frankie up with someone else? You didn’t know why, but instead of your usual instinct to flee, one of protection starts to come over you. 

“Hey,” Frankie breathes out with a big smile, his eyes glazed over and a little red from smoking as he watches you step down the staircase. 

“Hey,” you say with little to no masking of your emotions. 

He tilts his head adorably and rests his hand on your hip, pulling you in closer to him. “You alright?”

After nodding quickly with wide eyes, you know it’s more important for Frankie to believe nothing is wrong. 

“Yeah! Yeah, all good. Do you think we could head out soon? I’m getting pretty tired, worked a double and all.”

Frankie smiles and pulls his truck keys out of his dark blue jeans, doing the responsible thing and putting them into your very capable hands. “If you’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s go.” 

He’s cross-faded for sure. At one point on the drive home, Frankie hung his head out of the passenger-side window and stared at the stars, giggling, as the wind whipped his face. But he never let go of your hand. 

 The exhaustion from the night seems to hit you both once you return to the comfort of his apartment, a small orange fluffball hopping off the couch to run his body against your lower calf. 

“Hi, Leo,” Frankie whispers, squatting down to gently scratch the cat’s chubby cheeks. 

After stripping your clothes and turning on his television in the bedroom, the lull of a sitcom settles him into slumber. You lay with Frankie in bed, his arms slung low around your waist and his head nuzzled into your chest. He snores quietly as Leo curls up between you two. 

Sleep seems to escape you, because every time you close your eyes, you picture a young Frankie with a tortured past. A shit father, a not all there mother. How was he so seemingly pieced together as an adult? 

With one hand gently stroking his hair and massaging his scalp, you use the other to search capgras syndrome on your phone. 

The National Institutes of Health describes it as, the most prevalent delusional misidentification syndrome and is characterized as a delusion of doubles. Patients falsely believe that an identical person has replaced a person close to him or her… CS symptoms may result in intrapersonal and interpersonal conflicts, along with poor social relationships. An individual with this kind of disorder is prone to self-harm and violence. There are also implications for the patient's family, as the stress on the caregiver and stigma-related stressors could further compound the issue.

Clicking the lock on your phone as fast as you can, you shakily sigh and wrap your arms tighter around Frankie. 

It’s like nothing you’ve ever heard of and Frankie was at the center of it all. It felt like your stomach bottomed out thinking of what he had seen. 

Was his mother ever violent with him? Or to herself? 

And this letter from his father that Benny mentioned, what did it say? 

You manage to exhaust yourself to sleep, but it doesn’t last long. 

Frankie sweats bullets, his body rustling against the bedsheets that now make him feel confined. His heart hammers against his chest and pounds in his ears. 

These dreams would be just dreams if they were happy, but there’s nothing happy about what he sees. 

On a stormy night, his mother cries. The sobs fill the house, his younger sister fears it’s a ghost by the shaky howling that sways down the hallways to their bedrooms. 

“It’s okay,” his uncertain voice reverbs as he fluffs her light pink princess pillow and tucks a lilac quilt over her small body. He smiles convincingly and closes the doors to his closet. 

He walks alone down the dark hallway, his eyes anxiously peering from left to right. He spies his father downstairs drinking alone at the dining room table. The glass bottle shimmers as lightning strikes outside. 

Is he passed out or impossibly still? 

His mother lets out another wail. 

“Goddammit,” his father curses to himself, shaking his head and finding a coat from the closet before slipping outside and into the rain. 

It’s okay, Frankie thinks, because it’s easier to take care of her when he’s not around to intervene.

With a breath of relief, little ten-year-old Frankie walks downstairs and gets a glass of water. He’s so scared, his hands won’t stop shaking. No matter how much he tries to fill his lungs with air, the shaking doesn’t stop. Dribbles of water slide down his hand and wrap around the outside of his tiny wrist. 

He follows the cries with hesitant steps, lightly pushing open the door to his mother’s bedroom. 

“Mom?” He asks into the dark, his voice soft and squeaky.

“No! No, get out!” Her cries have turned to yelling, scrabbling up to the top of the bed and flushing her back against the bed frame. 

“It’s me, mom, Frankie,” he whispers, slowly walking forward with an arm extended with the water. 

She lets out another wail and shakes her head, causing Frankie to lurch back. He thinks the lightning strikes and the thunder booming outside is scaring her, and all he wants to do is soothe her panic. 

“D-do you want some water?” He asks as she sniffs, her wide and unblinking eyes enough to keep him awake at night. 

In a wake of reality, she wipes her face and whimpers. “Is that really you, Francisco?”

His bottom lip trembles as he nods feverishly. “Yeah mommy, it’s me.” Can’t you see it’s me?

She slowly lowers the covers that she had previously clutched to her chest, nodding slowly. But then she freezes again, horrified, unconvinced. 

“I-It’s not you.” She says with uncertainty, shuddering at another clap of thunder. 

“Momma,” he whispers as he moves closer, reaching out and touching her arm as he stands at her bedside. ��Drink some water, momma.”

He offers the glass, her eyes shifting from Frankie to the glass and back. 

“No-no! Your smile is bigger! That’s not my Frankie, his smile is bigger! Stay away from me!” She yelps, harshly smacking the glass of water out of his hands. Frankie jumps but can’t pull away, the grip of her hand wrapping around his wrist burns. 

“You need to stay away from me, you hear me? Stay away from my family!” 

Frankie tries to pull away, his own tears sprinkling along his eyes as he yanks yanks yanks and finally he’s free, running out of her room as adrenaline pumps through his little body. He quickly closes her door on the way out, sobbing erratically as he runs to the safety of the staircase, black funneling around his imagery. 

Frankie’s eyes pop open, feeling the tight hold of your arms like the one of his mother. He shoots up and pushes your arms off, seeing your sleepy eyes tiredly open. 

“Frankie?” You whisper, soft eyes meeting his own.

Fear still possesses him, it was overwhelming like a heavy weight sitting on his chest. It was all-encompassing, his manifestations of terror and panic being linked to the feeling of being chased by something from his past.  

“It’s me, it’s me!” He shouts, his throat feeling like something was clawing at it. 

You nod your head and reach out for his arm to which he instinctively rips away from you. 

“It’s me!” He shouts again, causing Leo to scurry off the bed. His stomach felt uneasy, dread pounding a dent into his head. 

“I know it’s you, I know it’s you, Frankie,” you breathe out, pushing yourself up fully as you take his hand and reassuringly squeeze.

He swallows down an impossibly large lump in his throat, catching his breath seems impossible. He couldn’t escape it, overwhelming helplessness nesting itself deep inside. It’s always the same nightmare or similar variants from his childhood. He used to think that he had blocked them out, shoved them away to a teeny tiny part inside him, locked away inside a vault. But recently, they’ve been coming back in swarms. 

The reality that his nightmare is over suddenly hits him and his back slumps weakly. Like a human no longer possessed, his physical existence slowly turning from mush back to something concrete. Suddenly, a sense of relief washes over him. It wasn’t real, he was safe, he was with you. 

“Frankie, you’re crying,” you whisper, slowly moving your hand up to wipe away the streams on his cheeks. 

Frankie’s shaky hand holds yours, tight, and brings it to his heart, letting you feel the impossibly strong beat. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, putting his head in his hands, “I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry,” he quickly shakes his head, feeling his body subtly relax from the strong heat that was tingling from his head to his toes. 

“It’s okay, you’re safe now, it was just a bad dream.”

He knows now and he nods, but he still feels lost between his past and his present. 

He shouldn’t have drank as much as he did, and he certainly shouldn’t have smoked. He knows that now, but he was hoping it would help him sleep, keep him at bay until you were gone in the morning. But now you were here and he felt so exposed, his open wounds now out and in the open. 

Please don’t run. 

“I’m sorry,” he says on repeat as you slowly run a hand up and down his back, his body leaning into yours and nodding; he needed this, he needed you. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you whisper, “can I hold you?” You ask so sweetly, your voice dripping in kindness lined with concern. 

He’s already nodding as you gently wrap your arms around his broad torso. He puts his arms over yours and sighs weakly, his fingers interlocking with yours. 

Comforting energy exudes from you, the thing he desperately needs the most right now. Your soothing voice is nothing like his mother’s anguished cries, breaking him into reality with the honey drip of your sweet whispers. 

“A nightmare?”

Frankie nods and closes his eyes, wiping the stray tears that still fall down his cheeks. 

“I never wanted you to see me like this,” he tries to laugh, but it just comes out wrecked and thick from crying. 

Why was he crying? Why couldn’t he stop crying?

Your chin rests on the dip of his shoulder and he can feel your slow breaths against his back. He aligns his wrecked breaths with your calm ones, your bodies slowly becoming in sync.  

He’s so tired. He wants to close his eyes, but every time he does, he sees the flashes of lightning outside his mothers window and hears her untrusting words. 

It’s not you!

You sit together like this for fifteen minutes and he’s becoming grounded again. He strokes the blankets and relaxes the clutching hold he has on your hand. 

“I’m gonna get a cold washcloth, you’re burning up.” You whisper. He doesn’t want you to go, but he knows it will help - something his mother never understood. Help was good. 

“Leo wants to sit with you,” you whisper as you round the bed, Leo already leaping up onto the bed and circling himself between Frankie’s parted legs. 

“Sorry buddy,” he whispers, his voice raw and still shaky, but no longer feeling like he was choking on the air his body was desperately craving. 

With hazy eyes, he watches your body move in his bathroom, the light making his eyes squint. Your soft legs tucked under his large t-shirt was a sight. He was definitely here again, in the present. 

Benny had warned you, but nothing could have prepared you for that. But again, your usual feeling to run wasn’t here, because Frankie really fucking needed you right now. Your own concerns about this relationship were pushed aside. He needed comfort and reassurance, love where there wasn’t any before. 

You soak a washcloth in cold water until your fingers turn numb under the streaming faucet. Squishing out the excess, you return to his bedside and gently dab at his neck. His honey-amber eyes have never looked so dark and lifeless. 

He blinks slowly, he must be so tired. Frankie rests his hand on your upper thigh, fingers sinking into your plush flesh. He’s trying to ground himself, you think. A reminder that this was real. 

“It must have been really scary,” you whisper as you bring the washcloth up to his rosy cheeks, then to his temple and across his forehead. “Does this feel good?”

He nods and squeezes your thigh reassuringly. “Really good.”

“Okay, baby.” You whisper, running the washcloth slowly down both of his arms. The cooling sensation should help him fully awaken. You rest the washcloth on the back of his neck and rest your hand on his now cool cheek. 

His words ring through your ears, begging to be heard that he was real, that it was him. It was a dream about his mom, it had to be. 

He lets out a breath of relief, smiling weakly. “You must think I’m insane.”

He grapples to find the right words, and you think it’s best to come clean. 

“Benny told me,” you whisper, seeing his eyes harden at your truth. “About your mom, Frankie. Is that… is that what your dream was about?”

He sits impossibly still, but something in his gut must condemn him to tell you the truth. “Yeah, it was.”

You nod and run your fingers delicately across his cheek, giving him a reassuring smile. “You can tell me what you want when you’re ready. But it doesn’t scare me off, and I don’t think you’re insane.” 

An exhausted breath of relief mingles between you both and he agrees. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. 

“My dad, he sent me a letter and the nightmares started again,” Frankie whispers, brokenheartedness laced in his words. 

You press a gentle kiss to his lips, one of understanding. 

“I wanna read it to you in the morning.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, nod, and kiss him again.

After making Frankie a sleepytime tea in his favorite mug, he settles back into bed. He was so vulnerable tonight when he really had no other choice. He falls asleep with his ear to your heart, and his arms wrapped loosely around your hips. 

You stay awake and watch the television for as long as you can, hoping the comforting vibes of a sitcom will calm your racing heart. Gentle fingers draw shapes over Frankie’s back and you share a look with his cat. One that said you were both in this together. As the sun slowly slips across the horizon, your eyes finally close knowing this night of terrors is over. 

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist | Notifications Blog

[musings-of-a-rose]

Hi, just wanted to say that I love your work! Especially with Benny and Frankie so much that I have an idea for Benny! Female reader (not picky about the name) meets Benny at a bar days after she catches her now ex-boyfriend cheating on her and they hook up at his place, but she leaves before he wakes up. She later finds out she's pregnant but doesn't tell anyone who the father is. Months later while still pregnant, her friends convince her to come with them to see a MMA fight and low and behold Benny is there fighting. He doesn't see her at first, but when the fight ends (which he wins) he sees her and she leaves abruptly while hiding her stomach since she's wearing baggy clothing. However, Benny manages to catch up to her, where she reveals the news to him. They then talk some more at her place where he reveals to her that she's been on his mind ever since that night and begins the start of something new.

One Night Can Change Everything

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader 

Word Count: 6400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Rea is a general nickname for a “reader” character that @mermaidxatxheart came up with and I think that’s genius! This is not beta’d.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

“Ok, that’s it. I’m making you get out of this bed now,” My best friend Sage declares as she towers over my bed, where I have lived for the past several days. Ever since I caught my boyfriend sleeping with my co-worker. Co-workerS.

Ex-boyfriend now, I suppose. 

I groan, attempting to roll over but Sage grabs my shoulder and flips me back over, digging her fingers lovingly into my skin. “I love you Rea, I do. But you have to get out of this bed. He’s not worth it.”

She’s right. I know she is. But we had been dating for nearly 2 years, mostly. It was on and off, but we had talked about marriage, kids, all of it. I thought he would be my forever but apparently, I was his “for now”. 

Fuck this asshole.

I sit up quickly, nearly colliding with Sage, and yank the covers off me, determination flooding my veins, choking out the hurt. For now, at least. 

“Alright, alright. I’m up.”

Sage points to the bathroom. “First, please take a shower. Then we’re going to Mick’s.” 

I’d almost forgotten about Mick’s, Sage’s favorite bar. Probably because it’s full of rugged, blue-collar men and Sage definitely has a type. Not that I can blame her. 

“Ok, but I’m just going for you. And science.”

Sage snorts. “Sure, Rea. Sure. Don’t forget to shave.”

—--------------

An hour later and I’m walking into Mick’s front door, loud music vibrating through me. It’s busy, but I’ve seen it busier and we manage to snag a couple of stools at the bar. Within 10 minutes, Sage is led to the dance floor by some burly lumberjack, complete with flannel shirt and all. I throw my hand up in the air in a “what about me” motion as she glances behind her, shrugging and gesturing around the room before focusing all of her attention on the flannel clad bear of a man in front of her, who is surprisingly agile. I turn back to the bar, taking my hand off the top of my glass, tossing the last of the liquid down my throat, coughing slightly at the burn. I set my glass down, my finger trailing along the rim, wondering if I should call an Uber or wait for my friend, when a man slides in next to me, flagging down the bartender. 

“5 beers, please.” His voice has a slight drawl to it, his tone warming me all over. 

“Seems a lot for one man.” Where the hell did that courage come from?

The man, clad in a button up light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up that opens to reveal a camo print shirt, turns his head to me and for what feels like days, I’m rendered speechless. This man is gorgeous - a sloping nose,  sandy blonde hair that flips out from behind his backward hat, some patchy facial hair, and the most intensely blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They glance quickly down my body and back up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Ain’t all for me, sweetheart. Got a table full of impatient assholes waiting for a beer.”

I cock my head to the side. “You lose a bet or something?”

The man tips his head back and laughs, his shoulders shaking with it and I feel my body tingle. I could listen to that sound forever. 

“How the hell did you know that?” His smile is wide, all of his attention on me, his eyebrows raised in question.

I shrug. “I’d send the guy who lost a bet to get the first round, at least.”

He chuckles. “Smart girl…I’m Ben. Friends call me Benny.”

I tell him my name. “But my friends call me Rea.”

“I like that. Nice to meet you, Rea.” He sticks his hand out to shake mine, but before I can, 4 beers slide in front of him and he glances down at them, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly. 

Finding courage from somewhere, I lay my hand on his forearm and have to resist squeezing. “You have to go back so soon?”

He smiles again, the skin around his eyes crinkling with it. “Nah, sweetheart. I’ll be right back. Promise me you’ll wait right here?” There go the eyebrows again, pulling together and making him look like a puppy. Fuck I am so screwed.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He hesitates for a brief second before taking my hand and kissing the back of it. “Now that’s something to make a man move fast.” He winks, grabs the four beers, and heads off into the crowd, making his way towards the back of the room. Hate to see him leave, but damn I’m loving watching him go, his 6’3 frame easily visible over the crowd. He drops off the beers somewhere at the back of the room, turning quickly to push his way back through the crowd, his eyes locking on mine and giving me a sly smile. 

“You waited.” He slides back into the barstool next to me as I pull my leg from it, the universal gesture for this is saved.

Fuck his eyes are so blue. “You came back.”

A smile plays at the corner of his lips. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

I look down for a moment, my mind going back to my ex and all of his cheating, making me feel less than. Benny seems to sense something, his large hand hesitating a moment before he gently squeezes my arm. “You ok?”

I shake my head, my eyes locking back on his blues. “Yeah. I’m great now you’re here.”

Benny is easy to talk to, fun, and flirty. He’s in Delta Force, or was, with his actual brother, one of the men that he’d owed a beer to earlier. We talk about everything and anything, Benny eventually pulling me to the dance floor and whisking me about, sometimes dancing and other times being silly and smiling when I laugh. After several songs, we need a break, managing to snag a couple of stools at the bar, sipping on a couple of drinks. 

“So you live local?” He asks me, taking another swig from his beer.

I nod. “Yeah. I don’t typically come here, but my friend Sage dragged me out of the house.”

“Well remind me to thank her. She here?”

“Actually,” I turn and look out at the crowd for several moments, finally seeing her in the back corner, making out with Flannel Bear Man. I chuckle. “Yeah, she’s a little occupied.”

Benny chuckles, taking another swig of his beer, his free hand hesitating a moment before landing on my bare thigh, just above my knee. “Well I can keep you company.” 

His warm hand against my skin has my brain short-circuiting. I can’t think of what to say so I return his question. “Are you local?”

He nods, his thumb slowly rubbing circles across my skin. “Yeah. But some water main or somethin’ broke in my building. They put us all up in hotels until they fix it. Burst a few pipes.”

“Oh no! Is your stuff ok?” I place my hand over his on my leg, giving it a little squeeze and move it further up my thigh, heat immediately rushing to an area not far from where his hand is. 

He clears his throat. “Uh, y-yeah. Well, I had some water damage but didn’t lose anythin’ big. They just have to put down new floors.”

The music volume suddenly goes up by several volumes, turning the place into a mini club. Benny winces and I can see that it triggers him, the loud sounds and people becoming a little much. I lean in closer to his ear, gently rubbing circles into the back of his hand. 

“It’s too fucking loud! Wanna get out of here?” I pull my head back to look at him, our faces only an inch apart. His eyes flit between mine, briefly pausing on my lips.

“If you’re sure, hell yeah.”

I smile and he returns it before I lean back into his ear. “Let me flag my friend down and let her know. Stay right here so I don’t lose you.”

He turns his head, his nose brushing against my cheek. “I’ll be right here.” Hating that I have to move, I gently place his hand on his thigh and give him a wink before turning, scanning the corner where I had last seen Sage. She’s still there, Flannel Bear Man sucking on her neck. I force my way through the crowd and eventually emerge in front of her. Sage’s gaze takes a moment to settle on me.

“Rea! Where’ve you been?” She yells above the music.

I gesture to where I came from. “At the bar. Waiting for you.”

She gasps as Flannel Bear Man starts to bite her skin. “S-sorry, Rea. I-”

I cut her off, not wanting to intrude any longer. “No worries. I’m getting out of here. With a guy. I’ll get an Uber.”

Sage reaches out and grips my wrist, breaking the suction from Flannel Man who only seems to just realize I’m standing here. 

“A guy? You found someone? Do you need condoms?”

“Sage! I have to go!”

“Wait!” She pulls her clutch from somewhere and digs around in it, quickly sliding a few foiled square packages in my hand. “ Remember, it’s just a rebound. Don’t get attached. Have fun and be safe!”

I can’t help the heat in my cheeks, but I tuck the condoms in my bag. “Thanks. I’ll ping you my location.”

Sage releases my wrist and smiles at me before I turn back to Benny, shoving my way through more bodies on the dance floor. I emerge on the other side and see him still sitting where I left him, hat turned backward and looking so fucking hot. 

This is all so unlike me, but I like Benny. Sage’s words echo through my head “it’s just a rebound. Have some fun.”

I walk up to Benny and he turns his head, standing and giving me a wide smile. “Ready to go, sweetheart?”

I nod and he offers me his hand, which I happily accept, his touch warming me all over as he guides us through the crowd and out the front door, the volume immediately decreasing the moment the door closes behind us. 

“Now I can hear myself think!” Benny chuckles as he pulls my hand to his lips, lightly brushing them against my knuckles, his puppy dog eyes on mine. “Did you drive?

“Hhhm? Oh, uh no. Uber.”

Benny nods. “I have my jeep. I can drive us somewhere? Unless you’d feel safer using Uber?”

I study him for a moment, deciding that I trust him. “I love Jeeps.”

He smiles, his grip on my hand tightening slightly as he directs me to the parking lot, chatting a little too fast about his Jeep, like he’s nervous. He helps me into the passenger side, sliding across the hood to make it to the driver’s side quicker, smiling at my laugh. He starts the Jeep and gets the ac started before turning to me.

“Where to?”

It’s just a rebound. Have fun. “I’d love to see your hotel.”

His eyebrows raise, that same smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah? You don’t have to. I mean, we could just get a burger or somethin’.”

I look down at my hands in my lap. Did I misread the signals? He was definitely coming on to me, right? I wasn’t reading into that? Before I can spiral further, Benny puts his hand over mine. “Hey, look. I like you and think you’re fucking hot as hell and would love to take you to my room to uh, show you the room. But I don’t want to presume or make you feel obligated or anything.”

I would choose a fucking gentlemen for a rebound. Fuck. I close my hand over his and meet his eyes. “Thanks, Benny. I don’t want to push you or presume either.”

He chuckles once, removing his hand to put his Jeep in reverse and then back into drive. “Sweetheart, you can take advantage of me any day.”

That breaks the awkwardness and has us laughing, falling back into conversation easily as Benny navigates through traffic. Gently, I lay his hand on my bare thigh again, wrapping my hand over his. He’s talking about something, I honestly can’t focus because he’s started to move, his fingers tracing slow lines across my skin as his hand moves further up my leg, getting closer to where I desperately want him to be. We hit a red light and the Jeep goes quiet, Benny turning to look at me as he slides his hand further up, his pinkie finger just barely tracing the crease of my thigh, heat and wet pooling just beyond his touch. My lips part and I let out a gasp of air, my eyes finding his. 

There’s a moment of hesitation but then I grip his shirt, pulling him towards me, our lips crashing together. He nips at my bottom lip and I gasp, Benny taking full advantage to slide his tongue into my open mouth, a small moan escaping me. His free hand leaves the steering wheel to grip the back of my head, holding me to him as he explores my mouth. The car behind us honks and we jump apart, the light having already turned green. Benny sticks his hand up to apologize to the car behind us, driving on, but immediately places his hand back on me, this time, his pinkie grazes up my panties and I squirm a little in my seat, not used to this much attention. He stills his movements.

“Is it too much?” He’s actually concerned.

“More like, not enough.”

Benny makes it to his hotel in record time.

Heated touches and kisses down the hallway has Benny dropping his room key a few times. As he tries to jam it into the lock, I slide my hands around him from behind, moving up his stomach from under his shirt and fuck he has a nice body, my hands moving lightly over his toned chest. He finally jams the key into the lock and flings the door open, tossing his keys on top of the dresser. He spins back around to face me, his eyes blown wide and dark with lust. 

He swallows hard. “Are you…are you sure?”

I step close to Benny, gently take his wrist and turn his hand palm up. One hand still holding his, I open my bag and fish out one of the foil squares, and place the condom in Benny’s hand. He glances down at it before looking back at me, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Rea, did you get a condom from your friend?”

I can feel the heat blooming in my cheeks. “No! I mean, technically yes but she-”

He cuts me off with his lips, one hand wrapped around my head and the other grips my hips, fingers digging into my skin as he pulls me flush against him. I can feel him hard beneath his jeans and I moan into his kiss, pressing myself against him so I can try to relieve some of the rapidly increasing hear between my thighs. He moves us and I feel the bed hit the back of my knees, but he holds me tighter before breaking the kiss. Both of us rip the shirts from our bodies, my bra quickly following. I reach for my pants but he grabs my wrists and stills them, his blue eys falling to my chest. He gently cups a boob and lightly pinches the nipple and I gasp, the small movement shooting straight between my legs. 

Then Benny sinks to his knees, eye level with my pants. He pops open the button on my jeans, sliding them down my legs where I help him kick them off. His large fingers trace the outline of my panties, the heat pooling there as I gasp at his touch. He hooks his fingers into them and slides them down my legs too, his eyes locked on the space between my thighs. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he half whispers. A half chuckle escapes me before it turns into a moan as he slides his nose up my slit, bumping into my clit. He growls, using my hips to push me down on the bed, tossing my legs over his shoulders like it was nothing. 

Which I have no time to think about because his mouth is on me, his hands on my inner thighs, pressing them further apart, widening his canvas. His tongue explores me, seeking all the areas that have me writhing under his firm grip. He somehow finds spots that I didn’t even know existed, sucking lightly, lapping, the coil of pleasure quickly tightening until a sound erupts from me, somewhere between a chant and a moan, my fingers gripping his hair to keep him in the same spot as he prolongs my release. 

My head is in a blissful haze, but I manage a whine as he pulls away from me, taking his pants off when he does. I hear the sound of the condom opening and I watch him as he rolls the condom on himself. I lean up on my elbows to see better, because he’s gorgeous, not girthy but longer, and definitely not anywhere near a size I’ve had in me. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take my time.” I blink, looking up at his face and see that there’s a hint of concern there, like he wants to make sure I’m comfortable.

I scoot further up on the bed to give him more space. “Don’t worry about me. I can take you.”

His eyes darken and he grabs my ankle, yanking me back down towards the end of the bed. I squeal, my body heating up again as he lowers himself between my legs. He pauses, his eyes bright as he glances between my own. 

“You’re so beautiful,” there’s that almost whisper voice again, his eyebrows pulling together so he looks like a puppy.

“So are you, Benny.” We take each other in for a few more moments, my body about to burst with all of the tension and hormones racing through it. “Now please fuck me, now.” I know I’m begging, but I don’t care. 

And neither does Benny, apparently, as he smirks. “Yes ma’am.”

He slowly presses his hips forward and I let out a moan as he stretches me, pushing further and further in. I’m not sure how, but he bottoms out, dropping his head to my chest, breathing heavy for a moment. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Gimme a sec so I don’t blow my load like a teenager.”

I manage some sort of confirmation sound, but then a moment later, he slowly pulls out and presses back in, repeating this a few times so I can adjust to his length. It’s driving me mad and I writhe under him, feeling every inch of him as he slowly moves in and out of me. He pulls out, his hips pausing as he looks down at me and it’s like time stops. Just for a moment. Then his lips crash to mine as he pushes forward quickly, sliding into me in one fast movement and I cry out, my hands gripping his biceps, nails digging into his skin as his hips set a fast pace, his direction and speed adjusting to my moans of pleasure. Every time he pushes in, he hits a spot somewhere at the back of me, a place no one has touched, and it sends sparks through my vision, my entire body like a livewire as he pushes me towards the edge.

“Fuck, Benny, I’m gonna-” my body ignites, pleasure radiating out from my cunt, his name tumbling from my lips in praise, begging him to keep going, or stop, or do it again. I have no idea, my head so engulfed in pleasure. 

“Fuck!” He yells, pressing into me one last time before he grunts, little pants and gasps tumbling from him. His head falls to my chest as he comes down. 

We stay like that for several moments, trying to catch our breath. Eventually, Benny pulls out, tossing the condom in the trash can by the bed before rolling onto his back next to me.

“What’s your third favorite dinosaur?”

I laugh, my entire body moving with it as Benny joins in, tears running down our cheeks as my movements turn me towards him. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question, let alone just after sex.”

Benny shrugs, smiling. “Had to break the tension and awkwardness somehow.” 

“Well that definitely works!”

His face grows serious. “You didn’t answer the question.”

After that laughing fit, I think on it a moment. “Pterodactyl. Because they can fly.”

Benny nods. “Interesting. What’s your favorite then?”

“Nope. I’m saving that answer for after round 2.”

His eyes grow dark almost instantly. “Round 2? Like, tonight?”

“Well, my friend gave me a whole row of condoms and I don’t want to take any home.”

—----

A few hours later, I’m laying in Benny’s bed, thoroughly fucked, Benny sprawled across the bed on his stomach, lightly snoring. He’s so fucking beautiful. But then Sage’s words echo in my head “It’s just a rebound. Have fun and bounce.” I sigh, unsure of what to do. I actually do like Benny, but is that just because he’s the first guy to actually pay attention to me in a long while? Self-doubt seeps in, my ex’s hurtful words and actions taking away the blissful feeling I’d had moments before. I shake my head, telling myself that if any of it was true, I wouldn’t be in a gorgeous man’s bed, a man who just spent the last few hours pulling every spark of pleasure possible from me. 

I quietly stand, gathering up my clothes. I get them on and lace up my boots, trying not to wake Benny. It’s better if I leave before he wakes up. Rebounds don’t work out anyway, so why prolong the inevitable? 

I turn to head towards the door and see the hotel pad of paper and pen next to the phone on the dresser. I stare at it a moment before grabbing the pen, scrawling a quick “Thank You” with a heart at the end. I slide it under his keys and walk to the door, glancing back at the sleeping form of Benny, the man who just restored my confidence. I close it quietly behind me, making sure the lock clicks into place and request an Uber to take me home. 

—----

Over the next few weeks, I try to get Benny out of my head. I try to stop thinking about him or talking about him. I know he’s a rebound, and those relationships don’t work out, as Sage has reminded me more than once. And I’m not sure I’m ready for a new relationship. I think. But talking to him had been so easy, effortless. Like we had been friends since forever. In a moment of desperation, I looked up the hotel on my Uber app and called it, knowing they wouldn’t give me any information about Benny. I can’t blame them. I don’t even know his last name. 

—----

2 lines. The pink lines emerge bright against the white of the testing stick, showing me the same result as the other 4 pregnancy tests I’d taken. My stomach lurches again and I make it to the toilet just in time. I close the lid and flush, wiping my mouth with a washcloth as I stare at my reflection. How the fuck did this happen? We’d used a condom every time, and he used them correctly. It must have been a faulty condom. Fuck, Benny. How am I going to tell him? No really, how? I don’t even know his last name and now I’m having his child. A knock at the door pulls me from my spiral.

“Rea?”

I sniff and wipe my face again. “Pregnant.”

She’s silent for just a beat. “Can I come in?”

I make a noise in approval and she opens the door, heads directly for me and pulls me into a hug where I let myself lose it. Tears streaming down my face, dry heaving breaths, all of it. It takes me a while to calm down enough to talk. Sage wipes my face with a cool cloth and it helps to soothe me a bit more. 

“Are you going to tell him?”

I scoff. “How, Sage?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Call the hotel? They have to have his info.”

I shake my head. “They won’t give it to me. Especially since I don’t know his last name.”

Sage cocks her head to the side. “How do you know?”

“Oh. I uh, I may have called a few weeks ago to uh try and uh…find. Him.”

She opens her mouth and then closes it. “That doesn’t really matter now. Do you know what you want to do?”

There’s so much I don’t know. I don’t know Benny’s last name. I don’t know where he lives, just that it’s local. I don’t know what he’d even say. I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know a lot. But there’s one thing that I did know right away.

“I’m keeping the baby.”

Sage takes a deep breath and nods once. “I can’t wait to be an auntie.”

—----

“Come on, Rea! You need to get out.”

I sigh, rubbing the side of my belly. “I’m 6 months pregnant, Sage. I don’t belong at an MMA fight.”

Sage copies my sigh and places her hand over mine. “You’ve been cooped up in your room for weeks. Just…come out to get some fresh air?”

“By sitting in a crowded auditorium surrounded by drunks?”

Sage shrugs. “I’m sure they won’t be drunk drunk. Besides, Henry has a special section all roped off just for us.” 

Henry is super sweet. The burly bear sized, flannel clad man from Mick’s had fit right into our friendship, even becoming a sort of surrogate brother for me. And it’s clear to me that he loves Sage with everything he is just by the way he looks at her.

I sigh again, shrugging in a defeated manner. Sage squeals and grips my arm. “Thank you! Oh, you’ll have fun! Just wait and see!”

So now I find myself in a crowded auditorium, surrounded by people drinking. Well, ok the crowd isn’t bad around us. Sage was right - Henry had literally roped off an entire section just for us and glared at anyone who tried to grumble about it. He was really into MMA and had a couple of cousins that were fighting so he always had tickets to some match that was happening. Are they called matches? I don’t know. 

Whatever they’re called, we’re a few in, Henry leaning over to tell us about each of the fighters as they’re announced. These matches are pretty brutal - I didn’t realize just how violent they can get, even with rules in place. The last match ends and the guy with the mop comes back out, cleaning away the blood that came from the last guy losing several teeth with a blow. Once cleaned, the microphone squeaks back on to announce the next fighters.

“From Red Feather Lakes, Colorado, standing 6’3, weighing in at 195 pounds, I give you BEN MILLER!”

A familiar memory scratches at the back of my head as the crowd screams and the doors open from the locker rooms somewhere in the throngs of people now on their feet. Henry leans in to yell in my ear.

“This guy is great! He’s kicked my cousin’s asses a few times! He…”

Whatever he said after fades into the background, which has dimmed to a loud hum, as Ben Miller struts into the ring, tossing his shirt to the side, revealing a very familiar tattoo and his face finally comes into my view.

Benny. 

My stomach leaps into my throat, my heart hammering through my chest as I stare down at the man who I could never shake from my mind, even before I was having his child. Which he doesn’t know about. 

A bell dings and Benny takes a few steps towards his opponent, who immediately clocks him in his jaw, Benny’s head flying backwards. The man manages to get a couple more hits in, Benny almost absorbing all of the hits. But then the man hesitates and Benny takes that moment to attack, winding his way around the ring, jabbing at his opponent in swift, concise, planned motions. The man only stays up for a few more seconds before crumbling to the ground and giving in. The crowd goes wild as the ref holds Benny’s arm in the air, blood trickling down from his nose, a giant smile on his face. My stomach lurches and I quickly stand, yelling something about the bathroom to Sage as I grab my jacket and run for the doors, the room suddenly too small and loud. I shove open the arena’s double doors and stumble out into the nearly empty hallway. The doors close behind me and I pause a moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. But then the doors open behind me again and I attempt to stand up right.

“Rea?”

Benny’s voice echoes down the hallway and through me, my insides simultaneously tightening with nerves but also excited and swooning at his fucking calming tone. My back is to him but I don’t move. He takes a step closer.

“Rea? Is that you?”

Fuck. This isn’t how I would want him to find out. But how would he find out? It’s not like I could find him. I didn’t even know his last name. I don’t-

“Are you ok?”

His voice is closer now, only a few steps behind me. I swallow hard, willing myself to hold it together as I turn to face him, keeping my jacket covering my belly. His bright blue eyes immediately find mine, a smile quicking spreading across his beautiful face. He’s still shirtless and I have to focus to keep my eyes on his face.

“Rea! It is you! I thought I saw your face in the crowd! Did you see me fight?”

I manage a small smile. “Y-yeah. I did. Congrats.”

He shrugs. “Thanks. That guy was easy but when I saw you, I thought maybe he’d hit my head harder than I thought. What…I mean uh, how are you?”

I sigh, my small smile dropping. “I…I have to tell you something.”

His expression turns serious. “Ok. But if it’s about me not calling you, you sort of left me without a last name or number.” He chuckles but stops when I don’t react. 

I hold his gaze a moment longer before letting my jacket fall to the side, exposing my belly under my form fitting black dress. His eyes immediately fall to my belly, his head turning to the side as he takes it in. I can see the moment it clicks, only a second or 2 after I moved my jacket, his eyes widening as his brain works double time to do the math. He points to himself.

“Is that…am I…the dad?”

I nod, rubbing my hand along the side of my belly where the baby is currently moving. “Yes.” I wait for the yell or scoff of disbelief, storming off, telling me I won’t get anything. All of what I had anticipated. But when I look up at him I see tears shining in his bright blues.

“You’re not fuckin’ with me?” His eyebrows pinch together, enhancing the shine from his tears and I shake my head.

“No. You’re the only one I’ve been with since my ex.”

His eyes shift down to my belly again and his hands start to reach out, but then he stops, looking back up at me. “May I?”

I give him a small smile and nod. “Yeah.”

Benny drops to his knees in front of me, placing each of his large hands on either side of my belly, rubbing small circles into my skin. I take his hand and move it, placing it right over where I’d just felt movement. 

“He was just kicking over here.”

His eyes shoot up to mine. “A boy? I’m gonna have a son?”

Fuck how can his eyebrows do that? “Yeah. A son.”

And the tears start to fall, quietly streaking down his cheeks as he laughs, trying to dab at them with the hand I hadn’t just moved. “Hey, little man. It’s me. Your dad.” A hard kick lands right in Benny’s hand and he whoops, rubbing the spot with his thumb. “You got your old man’s feet!” He continues to talk to my belly in the middle of the hallway, not caring if anyone sees him. His face is animated and lit up, despite the dried blood caked under his nose and for a second, I can see an entire future laid out before us. A wedding, a house, dancing together, maybe more kids. The love. It’s only when I snap out of this fairytale vision that I realize I was smoothing back his hair. I yank my hands back and drop them to my sides.

“Shit I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

He glances up at me. “Nah it’s ok. Actually, it felt good.” He watches me for a moment before his expression hardens. “Ok I need to get off this floor.”

He waves away my offer of a helping hand, gesturing towards my belly as he groans, standing to his full height before stretching out his legs. “I’m gettin’ too old to be kneeling on hard ass floors.”

We’re quiet for several moments, each of us just watching the other. 

“Why did you leave without sayin’ anything?”

I take a deep breath. “Benny, I…I’m sorry. I thought about you after that night. A lot. My friend had told me to just make it a rebound, to get my ex out of my head. Which it did, but what I didn’t expect was..well..you. I liked, well…like you a lot. You make me laugh, have some amazing stories, you’re funny, and hot as hell. But you also make me feel seen and heard. Like I wasn’t just there for convenience, which is ironic considering how we met, I realize that. I thought about trying to find you but the hotel wouldn’t tell me anything and I didn’t have anything to go by. And then I found out I was pregnant and I feel so guilty for not t- telling y- you, but I di-didn’t know h-how. I’m so s-s-sorry!” I can’t fight the pregnancy hormones anymore and the tears come, streaming down my face as I try to turn away, looking down and wiping furiously at my face. But then he’s there, pulling me towards him as best he can, his hand cradling the back of my head. 

“Hey, it’s ok. I never did tell you my last name or ask for your number neither. I could’ve but I didn’t.” My crying slows and he pulls back just enough to look down at me, wiping away a tear. “And I’ve regretted it ever since. I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you either, Rea. But I really had no way of finding you. But now that we’ve found each other again, can I have your number? I’d really like to take you to dinner.”

I let out a shaky chuckle. “It’s ok, Benny. You don’t have to do that.”

He cocks his head. “Do…what?”

“Take me to dinner. Listen, you can be as involved as you want. I won’t hold you to anything. I just wanted you to know. But you don’t have to-”

“No. I’m not asking you out because you’re pregnant. I’m asking you out because I’ve wanted to for months and regretted it every day that I didn’t.”

“Benny, really. It’s ok.”

“No, I- will you wait right here a moment?”

I nod and he places his hand on my belly once more, his son giving him another thump before he practically runs back through the double doors. Once they close, I walk over to the wall and lean my back against it, my emotions running through me. Is he telling the truth? Were we both just fucking idiots? That’s an obvious yes. But still, I don’t want him to feel like he owes me. It would be nice to hang with him again, though. No, Rea. Don’t make him feel forced. The double doors fly open and Benny comes running up to me, his wallet in his hand. 

“I don’t need money, Ben-”

He shakes his head. “No. Well I mean if you need it, I’ll gladly give it but that’s not…here.” He slides out a small slip of paper from behind his driver’s license and unfolds it, handing it to me. 

It’s the thank you note I scribbled to him and left in the hotel.

Tears well in my eyes again. “You..you kept this?” 

His eyes sparkle as they look at me. “Hell yeah I did. I told you, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. But I had no way of findin’ you. I went to the bar every night hoping to see you walk in. But I never did.”

“I got too busy with work and then..” I gesture down to my belly and he laughs, placing a hand on my stomach again.

“Yeah I can’t blame you for not wanting to be in a bar. Especially your first trimester.”

My eyebrows raise. “What do you know about trimesters?”

“My sister was a hot fuckin’ mess during hers. Sick all the time, emotional, all of it. She felt bad about it too no matter how much we told her not to worry. My niece is 5 now and has the attitude to match.” He chuckles. “I can’t wait to meet this little guy..my little guy. Ours? Fuck this is hard to say.”

“Either way, I’m just glad you can say it.” I clutch the paper in my hand for a moment before handing it back to him. 

“So when’s that dinner?”

We’re married a year later. 

---------------------------------

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe

@greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi  

@wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso  

@theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz 

@gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox 

@amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed  

@ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol  

@mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry 

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk   

[charliehoennam]

forever home

a/n: i rewatched the office and it was that episode where jim buys pam a house 🥰

pairing: william miller x f!reader

warnings: none (i think. i suck with tags, sorry), just fluff, not proofread so sorry for any typos

It's almost 11 p.m.

You're sat on the couch, trying to keep your tired eyes open as you watch a rerun of Hell's Kitchen.

With Gordon Ramsey's yelling and cursing in the background, you lift your phone once more to check for any new messages but there aren't any. You open up the chat with Will on the messaging app and reread his last text.

"Having one for the road. Be home in 20. Love you 💚"

You don't want to be one of those nagging fianceés, but the urge to text or call him is just bubbling inside. That was almost an hour ago and you're starting to get worried.

What if something happened to him on the drive home? What if he got into a fight at the bar?

It would be a surprise, but it wouldn't be the first time. Despite the progress he's had through therapy, you know how he can be impatient at times and a little hot-headed too. And maybe a little cocky too, although he would only let that side shine through at Benny's matches.

The trust you have in each other is the one of the main foundations that you've built your relationship on. Opportunities like these are essential to remind, not only you, but also himself of how far he's come.

You remind yourself of that when you hear a car pulling into the condo's parking lot downstairs. It takes all of your willpower to refrain from racing to the window to make sure it's really him. Truthfully, you just want to know if he's alright.

Will's tired legs slowly his heavy body up the single flight of stairs that led up to your small and shared condo apartment. His arms are so sore that he can barely hold the keys in his hand as he unlocks the door. He's never felt so tired, even on his deployments.

For the past 3 months, Will and his team have been working on a new house. He'd gotten into the business of buying and flipping houses which has been working out really well for him.

He loved being able to work with his hands and there is something just so gratifying to him about seeing something come together so beautifully after lots of sweat, work and a little bit of blood whenever he's accidently hurt himself. Will was usually very cautious, but accidents can happen to anyone.

You always supported him and his career since he'd expressed his desire to get into the business. You're thankful he did. Will's really good at what he does and he genuinely loves being so handy.

One of the other perks is getting to watch him in action. There's something so attractive about watching your fiancé slam a sledgehammer to a wall. Will knows you like watching him too, so he'll flaunt his muscles off whenever you come around to bring him some materials or sweet treats for the team.

However, this specific project has really been taking up most of his time and you just cannot wait until it's done and sold.

As usual, Will and the guys get together every Friday night to catch up, watch a game and shoot the shit. It's their own way of making sure everyone - particularly Tom ever since the divorce - are still hanging in there.

Opening the front door to the apartment, he steps inside and locks the door with a tired sigh before near the open plan kitchen to set his wallet and keys on the breakfast counter.

"Hey, baby. Sorry I'm late. Tom got a little carried away with the beers and I had to give him a ride."

"It's alright, honey," you yawn. "Did the guys get home alright?"

You look over the back of the couch and watch him kick off his dusty work boots at the door. His work jeans are tattered, splattered with dried old paint and wood varnish. The faded tan jacket is peeled off his body and hung up on a hook.

A mental note is made in your mind to convince him to buy new clothes when you go out the next time, although you know that'd be a bit of hassle since he's too stubborn to waste money on himself. It's nothing a batting of eyelashes can't handle.

"Yeah, sweetheart. The other guys just had a couple beers, but you know Tom," he struts over as he shares with you, bending down to kiss you hello and plops himself on the couch beside you, manspreading his legs as a arm drapes of your lap, hand stroking your thigh. "He's really going through it."

"I can imagine. You been talking to him?"

"I have, yeah. Invited him to the support group, but you know how he can be."

You nod adjusting to lean closer and thread your fingers through his hair. His blonde eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes, instantly melting under your touch.

"Yeah, I know, baby. But don't give up. You never know. He might just show up one day."

"I know, sweetheart," he smiles before opening his eyes as his head turns to face you with a gentle squeeze to your thigh. "How was your day, beautiful?"

"Just the same ol'. Made your favorite for dinner though" you smile watching the exhaustion in his eyes slowly fade.

"Pesto chicken alfredo pasta?"

His blue gleam with hope. His pretty pink lips stretch into a wide smile behind the golden whiskers of his beard. You chuckle at how happy he gets when it comes to food.

You know it stems from the lack of indulgence during his deployments. Will's no fussy eater, but when he's home, he indulges when he can to make up for the barely edible chow he and the guys had to eat. Although tasteless and sometimes expired, Will never had any problems with it because he knew the purpose wasn't to be good, but to keep him alive.

That's why he quickly back up on his feet and striding towards the kitchen to heat a plate up for himself, leaving you to snicker at his excitement. If there's one thing that the Miller brothers share, it's their appetite for food.

"How's the house coming along?"

"We finally fucking finished, babe," he grins plating the cold food. "It looks so good though. I cannot wait for you to see it. You are going to love it." Of course. He built it with you and your tastes in mind. "Tomorrow, I'm taking you to see it."

"Really?" you grin.

Your opinion is very important to Will and he always comes to you when he's got doubts and is in need of a feminine point of view, so it's not exactly uncommon for him to bring you to his projects for a look-around.

The next morning, you find yourself in his car listening to No Excuses by Alice In Chains.

With nothing else to do, you sing along to the song as Will drives steadily

“Can I please take this thing off?” you ask adjusting the blindfold he’s got on you. “I don’t want cops pulling us over thinking you’re kidnapping me.”

“Baby, no one’s gonna pull us over” he chuckles at the thought. “We’re almost there.”

You try to focus on the sounds beyond the car in an attempt to locate where you are, but the catchy tune playing from the stereo makes it impossible. The only thing you know for certain is that you’re not in the city. The familiar salty scent strikes you as clear as day.

“Are we at the beach?” your voice fills with excitement.

“You’ll see soon enough. We’re here. I’m gonna help you out of the car, hold on.”

You can hear the smile he’s got plastered on his face. Will finds it cleverly adorable how you figured part of his surprise out already. it's not enough to ruin it though.

Just as promised, he opens the car door and takes your hand to carefully help you out of the car with kind instructions. You hold onto his hand as you settle on the stony driveway. Although from a distance, you can still hear the ocean waves quietly splashing on the shore.

"Take a look," he grins anxiously untying your blindfold.

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the bright light of the blue sky but, once it does, you freeze in awe of the house before you.

The mediterranean-style house is simple but large and elegant. Red Italian tiles and cream-colored paint exude a rustic and mysteriously familiar feeling that makes you feel at home.

Colorful flowers strategically planted grow in the grassy front lawn. Behind it, potted flowers sit on the low wall that encloses the small garden along the gated pathway to the door.

You and Will had talked about buying a house for a long time. Little did you know, Will had made a list in his precise mind of every little detail that you desired in your forever home.

"Will, this house is beautiful. You might have finally outdone yourself!"

He chuckles filled with relief and joy as he listens to you swoon over every small and carefully thought out detail of the exterior.

"C'mon, let's take a look."

He takes your hand and leads you up the pathwalk to unlock the door. You step inside the empty home and marvel at the space.

"Wow... It looks small from outside, but it's pretty big huh?"

"I thought so too. I kinda liked that about it."

"I love it! It's like a little illusion and then, you come in and it's just so much space," you grin roaming around each room slowly to take everything in.

"Do you like the windows?"

"Yeah, they're lovely. They really add to the mediterranean/contemporary vibe you got going on here. Can we see the kitchen? You know how much I love kitchens," you giggle excitedly.

"Of course. It's right over here."

"The floorplan is really nice and open too, huh? Oh, the sink! You installed the farmhouse sink! Undermount, too! The owners will love that."

Will smiles as he gazes at you, watching your reaction lovingly as you wander around the house and notice every tiny detail that Will spent countless hours pondering over to ensure you would have the house of your dreams.

The project cost him a pretty penny, but every single cent and drop of sweat he had spent investing into this home was certainly worth to see your eyes light up with every nook and cranny.

He led you to the backyard compete with a pool and beautiful stones and bright green plants that made it feel like your own little personal lagoon, with a wooden pathway that leads to a private gateway to the beach behind the house.

In truth, you feel like you're in paradise. You could spend every day in this house without the urge to leave it.

"So? What do you think?" he smiles holding your hips.

"I think this is your masterpiece, babe" you grin holding his strong biceps. "Do you have any buyers yet? I bet this will be the most expensive house you've sold yet."

"Actually, someone's already bought the place... This is ours."

You stare up at him in shock.

"A-Are you serious? You bought this place for us?"

"Mhm," he nods with a shit-eating grin. "The farmhouse sink, the red italian rooftop tiles, the little garden... It's everything that was on your list."

As tears fill your eyes, you hug him tightly and sniffle as your arms tighten around him. You want to thank him, but you're too speechless to say anything although your reaction says everything he needs to know.

You think back to all the long pillow talks you've had, where he'd casually asked you about little bits and pieces he should add to the project. You would have never guessed the project he'd been working on was your new home together.

The mere fact that Will had gone through so much trouble to make this house perfect to every desire makes your swell. Being designed by the love of your life is the finaal cherry on top.

"Thank you, Will," you mumble still stunned as you stare at your new backyard.

"Welcome home, babe."

[viennakarma]

i was thinking of the ending where the reader moves on!! i was interested in what luna would think happened bc i thought she would see that lewis is still clearly in love with her mom but her mom obviously moved onto to fernando.

but i am biased to the ending where reader forgives lewis (bc lewis is my main man <3 hehe) so i really appreciate that perspective!! i do feel like even tho reader has forgiven and moved on by the time luna’s a teen, lewis would low key still carry that guilt. he seems emotionally driven for sure (to me) and he was dreading the day luna found out bc she eventually would, in the age of social media

i would love your thoughts on lewis’ perspective as well (either when it happened or when luna asks him about it) bc as someone who went thru something similar (we were never dating but it still hurt lmao) i still cannot wrap my head around the betrayal even tho it was years ago at this point. so seeing lewis still be in love w reader and truly regret his actions heals a part of me even tho this is fiction hahahahaha.

love your writing btw ❤️❤️❤️

ohhhh thank you so much! I also went through something similar (i guess that's why say something feels so raw to read and all over the place with emotions)

so you wanted to know how lewis would carry that guilt after losing the woman of his life? (evil laugh) it sparked me to write a bit, so here it goes: (keep in mind the post wreck my plans headcanons)

((also, written in the format you = reader))

Growing up, Luna had slowly become aware of her father's feelings for her mom. She knew the story, they had fallen out of love, divorced when you were pregnant with Luna. But as she became a pre-teen, and a teen, she started to really pay attention to the way Lewis looked at you. During her school games, Luna was a midfielder in football, she'd notice how Lewis' gaze would linger on you, the longing almost unbearable for a couple of seconds before he was able to scold his expression and look away. When Fernando arrived, wrangling Luna's younger siblings, Lewis would go back to his normal, polite self. When he'd drop Luna off at your house, Luna would notice the way Lewis stared from his car, looking at you and Fernando playing with the children in the backyard, using water balloons under the heat of the summer, how you'd embrace Luna and immediately let her join in the game. Luna started to grow aware of this, and by the age 15, she'd be completely sure that her dad still had feelings for you, and she would know that you had no feelings for him. Because the way Lewis looked at you was the way you looked at Fernando.

Luna decided to dig up, one night. She had a limited and monitored access to the internet ever since she was little, and with the years, she just wasn’t big on internet and social media, rather spending time with her siblings, her friends and family or her many hobbies. But with google, it didn’t take long for her to find a specific video. It was at a press conference, back when her dad was a racing driver, someone asked him what his thoughts were on his ex-wife, Luna’s mom, dating Fernando, a fellow racing driver.

Luna stared at her dad in the video, the dim in his eyes when he said his marriage had ended for unrelated reasons and that he was the only one to blame, since his loyalty as a husband had faltered and he was the one to fail the vows he had made to you. Luna closed her laptop with a slam. She wasn’t dumb. She was fifteen and loved English classes. She knew what he meant with loyalty faltering.

She got upset, she had never thought cheating was the reason for the divorce, not when you and Lewis had told her that they fell out of love. She grew moody for a couple of days, short tempered and rude, you and Fernando had thought it was only teenager moodiness, so you let Luna be. When she confronted you, two days later, she spilled the truth of what she had found out, Fernando, sensing the moment, took Vicenzo and Benny to his family’s place for the weekend, knowing you and Luna had a big conversation coming.

You explained to Luna what had happened, why you were the one to divorce Lewis. But you were kind, always reminding her that her dad had always been a good father, always taking care of Luna and how you and Lewis loved her no matter what. After that talk, Luna got calmer, but she asked you to not go to her father the following week as they had agreed on. Lewis was distraught when you called him to inform that Luna wasn’t going to his house that week and she didn’t wanna go camping as planned anymore. When you told him over the phone that Luna had found out… you could hear him crying.

After giving Luna a week to give her space, Lewis went to your house to find her. They decided to finally go on that camping trip under the condition that he’d answer all of Luna’s questions about what had happened.

She was silent for most of the trip. Once they arrived at the cabin, they sat in the backyard, Lewis lit up a bonfire and Luna and him sat around it, burning marshmallows in the fire.

“Do you regret it?” Luna asked, breaking the silence. Lewis exhaled for a second.

“Every waking moment,” His voice faltered.

“Why, then?” She muttered, looking straight into the fire.

“I don’t know. Back then I had been upset, having had a couple of bad seasons in Formula 1, feeling useless, feeling like I wasn’t able to do the one thing I knew how. I had a couple of drinks, and someone from my past showed up… And I made a mistake that cost me my happiness, my future and the love of my life. Looking back now, all of those were silly reasons for doing what I did. They weighed nothing compared to your mom and our marriage…” His voice was wet with tears and Luna didn’t have the heart to look at his face yet, “Your mom, she even tried to fix things for a few weeks after I confessed. But I could see… I could see the love she had for me dying more and more every single time. When we signed the divorce, she was already pregnant with you. We decided to become friends to co-parent for you.”

After some silence, Luna looked at Lewis, the tears in his face.

“Will you forgive me?”

“Of course,” She reached out, wiping his cheeks of tears. He closed his eyes, a weight leaving his shoulders at the acceptance and she hugged him. Lewis couldn’t help but see you in Luna, in her caring embrace and her forgiveness.

After a few quiet moments, Luna pulled back.

“How… How was life when you two were married? You know, before all this?” Luna asked, “Mom never talks about it.”

“Why do you wanna know, baby? It’ll only hurt you…”

“Because I have no idea how it was.”

So he told Luna about random things of those few years you were married. He told her how you’d draw and leave charcoal stains everywhere, and how upset he’d be, Luna would tell him you rarely ever use charcoal nowadays, but every few weeks Fernando buys you new colors of paint and asks you to paint him something. Luna told Lewis how all of Fernando’s offices are full of colorful paints you made him.

Everything Lewis told her, Luna would counter with how things were nowadays. And each time it hurt his heart a little. Fernando didn’t make you travel around the world anymore, Fernando helped you take care of the garden, supporting you most recent hobbies, Fernando who gifted you with a little rescue kitten, a scruffy little thing you had always wanted but didn’t get because the kids were too small back in the day.

Lewis started to see how he had failed you many times even when you were married, even before the cheating. How he had been unsupportive of your hobbies, of your career, of your wishes.

He knew he’d spend the rest of his life wishing he could come back to that one fateful night and never get in a hotel room with that woman. He’d know what to do now. He’d know how to go home straight to you, how to cherish you, how to support you.

But it was too late, and you had found someone who did all that without the need to make a mistake to value you for who you are.

note: damn, this really ran away from my hands too phew

[garbinge]

The Year of 1969

Johnny Davis x F!Reader Benny Cross & F!Reader

Summary: You decide to leave Chicago with your brother and have to break the news to Johnny.

Word Count: 2.4k 

Warnings: Grief. Loss. Main Character Death. Canon Spoilers. Angst. 

A/N: First Bikeriders fic I’m posting!!! But I have a buuuunch more coming. I decided to rewatch today and just got hit with this idea. Enjoy!

The Bikeriders Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989

You put it off for far too long. To the point that now you were juggling with whether it’d be worth telling him now or have him just figure it out when you were gone. That’s what you were currently doing, right outside The Stoplight, deciding which option would hurt him less. You knew which one would be easier for you, just leave without a word, but you also knew it wasn’t fair. He just had to say goodbye to his best friend, Brucie, and you saw how much that wrecked him. And now you were going to pile this on as well. 

Before you could think anymore your legs pushed you through the doors of the bar, the light smokey haze mixed with the low sound of music meant that it wasn’t busy, just a few of the guys. Made sense since it was still light outside, most of the guys were probably still working but the ones that were here probably had earlier shifts or were off like Johnny who didn’t have a trucking run for another week. 

“He-eey.” The voice was cheery as Corky welcomed you in. It caused a few other of the guys to look up and greet you with smiles, Johnny included. His smile wasn’t as big as the others, or even like his normal grin. That’s what made this even harder, when Johnny lost Brucie, not only did things with the club change, but so did things within Johnny. And now you were going to break him more. 

“Hey guys.” You smiled, similarly to Johnny. 

“Where’s your brother?” Cockroach leaned forward, “told me he’d let me take a few shots on his camera one day, learn about loading film n’ stuff.” He was smiling from ear to ear, looking at the other Vandals as he boasted. Little did Cockroach know, your brother was packing up his stuff for New York as you stood there with your stuff in the car already. 

“He’s uh–” You thought of an excuse but just couldn’t bear it and turned to Johnny. “Can I talk to you for a second, Johnny?” 

The guys might have been a little oblivious sometimes, but they picked up on your tone immediately. Their smiles were vanished from their faces and suddenly they were all trying to look anywhere but at you and Johnny. 

“Yea–uh, let’s go outside.” Johnny was standing up and placed his hand around your back lightly to guide you outside. 

The sun was starting to set, it was honestly one of your favorite times at The Stoplight, the way the sun would cast its golden rays on the line of bikes that would be outside. Maybe it was the artist in you, since living with your brother you tended to see the beauty in things like that. Moments you wanted to capture and keep alive forever. It was a shame that now, as the sun glistened on the paint jobs of the bikes and the road fell silent and Johnny stood a few feet from the bar entrance, this was a moment you’d never want to remember, one that’d you drink to forget. 

“Smoke?” Johnny asked as he stood on the sidewalk near the curb. 

“I’m alright, thank you.” It was then that you moved to stand next to him, arms crossed, taking a deep breath as the words started to move from your mind to your throat. 

It took you a few minutes, ones that you two just stood in silence for. That wasn’t unusual for you two, there were tons of times where you and Johnny didn’t talk, it was usually because you were doing other things, his mouth was preoccupied with your own, or the guys were around and your conversations were with them all. But right now it felt unusual because normally when it was just you two, you’d talk, about everything and nothing at all. The TV shows you’d watch, the news, stories, you’d love to tell Johnny stories, real ones, fiction ones. You’d talk about the shots you took on the camera your brother gave you, your purpose. It was what brought you here in the first place, at your brother’s place. Lack of purpose. You thought if you’d learn about what Danny was up to at school, you’d learn something yourself, and you did. But you weren’t sure if photography was truly it. It was Johnny who told you that you should tell stories, like the people on the news when it clicked. You wanted to be where the action was, a writer and newscaster. 

“You see those guys with those helmets they launched up into space?” Johnny broke the silence after exhaling the cigarette smoke. “Travellin’ round the moon and the stars and stuff.” He was nodding. “That, uh, Barbara Walters you told me to watch was reportin’ it. Cool shit.” 

“Johnny I’m leaving.” You blurted the sentence out, the pain coming right along with it as you felt your stomach knot. 

It was like instinct, he looked over at your car. The suitcases were piled up in your backseat, the one that you two so frequently found yourselves in over the last few years. 

“Where ya headed?” It was far too casual for your liking, but you also knew not to expect much else from him. 

“New York. With Danny.” You mentioned your brother’s name and he nodded as it all clicked in his head. He could’ve been mad, said something along the lines of maybe trying to do something for yourself for once and not follow someone else’s dream, someone else’s life. But he knew it wouldn’t have been true. He knew exactly what you were going to do once you were in New York. 

“Heard they got that, uh, big music festival out over ‘dere in the uh big apple, you oughta head there and check it out, write a story on it.” He was pointing in a direction like it was where New York was as he spoke. “Nixon election’s comin’ up too, could write about that.” He dropped his head to the left, his face moving to a frown, thinking how that could also be a viable option.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” Any other time you would have loved to talk about all the stories you were going to get over on the east coast, but right now you were just hoping you could leave on semi-decent terms with Johnny. 

“S’no problem.” He inhaled one last puff of the cigarette and dropped it on the ground. 

You were turning to look at him now, arms still crossed, emotion building up as tears in your eyes. 

“Stop all dat.” He tossed his arm over your shoulders and looked out at the sunset. “When you leavin’?” While he knew it was tonight, he wanted to know how much time he had left, it would determine what he’d say, how he’d act, although the more he thought about what your answer would be and what he’d do, the answers all felt pretty similar. 

“Later tonight, I got a couple hours.” You were leaning into him, arms still against your chest as you brought your hand up to wipe the tears. 

“Get back in dere.” He tipped his head toward the bar. “Grab a drink, we’ll hang for a while.” 

“For a while.” You accepted his offer, looking back up at him. 

“Go.” He smirked, his arm releasing you now. “Before more show up and you’re left with the shitty beer. I’ll be in in a minute.”

As you went back inside, Johnny’s smile faded. He pulled out another cigarette and walked over toward your car and just stared at the bags in the back as he smoked the cigarette down. He must’ve lit up a few because when he came back to it, there were about 5 buds on the ground next to him, the sun had set and Benny was approaching him. 

“Everything good, Johnny?” He was leaning curiously toward the man before he entered the bar. 

“No, s’not.” He mumbled under his breath as he let his head fall back for the quickest second before looking over at Benny and joining him at the entrance of the bar. Johnny’s hand raised and flew over Benny’s shoulder. “Hey, yea, everything’s’well.” 

________

“Hey, you hear about that weird thing over in Chicago?” Your coworker walked up to your desk and interrupted a thought of yours. Your eyes closed and you collected your frustration as you looked up and made eye contact with them.

“What weird thing?” 

“Someone was murdered in Chicago.” Your coworker leaned on the wall of your cubicle. The first part of the sentence, surprisingly didn’t shock you, as a news reporter you had received a lot of stories similar and you were really concentrated on making this deadline for your next piece to end up in the paper, but when they said Chicago, you started to pay attention. “Chicago?” 

“Yea, some gang violence or something. They sent someone out there to report on it, I think Gary from features, he’s packing up his stuff now. Seems like they’re gonna write a big thing on bikers and the uprising of motorcycle clubs.” 

That’s when your heart started to sink. “You get a name?” Your body was frozen but you were waiting to hear someone’s name that was familiar to you for you to grab your things and leave. Cal. Zipco. Benny. Corky. But not his. 

“I think Johnny something–Davis! Johnny Davis.” 

Within seconds you were in your car, one destination in mind, you had gotten more information on a small town radio station which is how you learned where it happened. The whole drive you wouldn’t let your mind think about it, let it be real. As you pulled up to the abandoned parking lot, you wouldn’t have been shocked if you didn’t even put your car in park, you were stepping out so quickly. You weren’t exactly sure what you were looking for, but it was true that you’d know when you saw it. Because you did. The blood stained on the pavement made you freeze and that’s when your heart finally broke and reality sunk in. 

You remembered your last memory with him.

His hands wrapping around your face as he leaned against your car, his feet still on the curb but his back against the car. You were on top of him, laughing as he placed a kiss to your lips. “Thanks for the last minute farewell party.”

“If you gave me a heads up, coulda had Corky bring streamers.” 

You remembered how much pain that comment brought you and how he realized it immediately. 

“Hey, ey, ain’t meant nothin’ bout that comment. Just shootin’ the breeze with you.” He kissed you again, this time with no smiles, no laughs just pure passion. 

“Let’s go for a ride.” You whispered against his lips, your way of prolonging your goodbye.

“Think it’s probably time for you to head outta here, s’late.” Johnny still had his arm around you and his other lightly touching your face. 

“One last ride.” You whispered again. 

Johnny knew if he got you on his bike, he’d drive the night away in avoidance of letting you go. He also knew every time he got back on his bike he’d think of you and he couldn’t handle that. So as he kissed you quiet again, his left hand moved to open the passenger seat of your car. He didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to. You knew what he was saying. You pushed off him, despite everything in you wanting to crawl back on him in that awkward position and stay there forever. As you dropped your bag in the passenger seat, he closed it and walked around to the driver’s side and opened it up. With a deep sigh, you plopped inside and immediately leaned out the window, your arms crossed hanging outside. 

He leaned down, his arm resting on the top of the car’s roof now. “Will miss you tellin’ me those stories, but I’ll, uh, get one of the guys to help me send a letter to subscribe to the New York news.” 

“Just don’t have Corky imitate my voice.” You smirked. “He really exaggerates my midwestern accent.” 

“Nah, I’ll just call ya and have you read ‘em to me.”

“You promise.” Your face got serious, it felt like that statement needed reassurance. Most of your relationship with Johnny was all jokes and fun, so you needed to know if he was serious.  He stared at you for a minute, his face getting serious as well. His hand tapped the roof of your car, “You better take the ‘spressway, 490s always  backed up.” 

He didn’t break the promise, because he never made it. 

“Will miss you listenin’ to my stories.” You mumbled, staring at the blood stain, trying to imagine what happened and every scenario was wrecking you thought by thought, until your thoughts were interrupted by a loud engine approaching. 

Your body turned and you saw Benny Cross, eagerly walking up and standing next to you. Emotion heavy on his face as he stared at the blood stain. Neither of you said anything, just stared. There was no tension, just every other emotion you could think of instead. 

“Heard you left.” It should have made Benny jump but he felt numb and just nodded before talking. 

“Not long after you did.” Benny agreed. 

You just acknowledged him with the same gesture. “I’m back in Chicago.” 

“Me too.” 

Silence again, still both of you just looking at the red mark that had turned deep red almost brown on the dark pavement. 

“I’m done riding.” Benny broke the silence this time. Your head turned to look over at the bike that he took here and that he’d likely drive out of here and you frowned in confusion but then you realized.  He just came back just like you. When you said you were back in Chicago, you weren’t really back in Chicago, you were just back in Chicago, like 1 hour back. Your car just drove over the Illinois border an hour ago, and you think Benny did the same. 

So now, the two of you just stood numb, over the blood of the one man you both knew and loved, wordless as the grief draped over both of you.

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 16

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 3374

Warnings: Angst, suspense, emotional situations, The Tension is Growing, Fluff. (You might need the tissues for this one.)

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter - 16

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hallways as Dean, Benny, and Crowley rushed towards your room; spurred on by Dean’s sudden burst of intuition, he knew you were in trouble. One moment, he had been standing in the study with the others, and the next, a sense of foreboding had taken hold of him, driving him to take off toward your room for no apparent reason.

His heart pounded in his chest, a wild, desperate rhythm that matched the flurry of his thoughts. Worry and concert sent adrenaline coursing through every nerve in his body, propelling him forward. Dean was the first to reach your door, throwing it open in a panic. 

The sight that greeted him—the empty bed and the curtains swaying slightly in the breeze from an open window—sent a chill down his spine. It was as though the world had suddenly gone cold and dark, the air thick with the absence of you.

“Damn it!” Dean cursed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His eyes darted around the room, taking in every detail, every shadow, every flicker of movement, searching for any sign of where you might have been taken or by whom. The sheets were rumpled, and a pillow lay on the floor, but other than that, the room looked untouched.

Crowley appeared behind him, his expression grim as he surveyed the room. “They were quick,” he muttered, moving to the window and looking out at the grounds. He knew he should have anticipated something like this; the other men on the grounds had only been a distraction to keep the hounds and his security occupied while the real threat made its move. 

“Sir, you’ll want to see this,” Ketch stated, now standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

Dean tore his gaze away from the room and followed Ketch, a sense of dread settling in his stomach. He could feel his pulse racing, his hands trembling slightly as he walked down the hallway. Each step felt like an eternity, the air thick with tension and unspoken fears. He could still feel you, so he knew you were alive, but that wasn’t what he was worried about most.

The three followed Ketch back down to the main room, then to a side room where there were three other men, their faces illuminated by the glow of computer monitors. They were all watching the footage, their eyes glued to the screen as they went through the recordings. 

“I didn’t think he’d send his best, but I should have,” Ketch told them, pausing one of the recordings from outside your room.

On the screen, it wasn’t just one man; it was a strike team, led by Asmodeus, the Vaught family’s tactical security lead. Alastair was there too, with two others, Ramiel and Dagon. It was the best the Vaughts had. Dean’s jaw tightened as he watched the footage, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of anger and fear. The precision with which they moved, the seamless coordination of their attack—it made his blood boil. His hands clenched into fists at his side, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

They’d come in through the window while you had been in the study, then hid in the shadows, waiting. The alarm linked to the window had never gone off. Once you sat down on your bed, Alastair approached you silently and, with a swift, practiced motion, injected something into your neck that knocked you out instantly. They then lifted you gently, as if handling a fragile doll, and slipped back out the window.

“Olivia has already been taken into custody and is being questioned,” Ketch informed Crowley, his tone cold and efficient. “I’ve also already sent out two security teams to retrieve your guests from earlier.”

“Good. Now, to make a phone call,” Crowley replied, his voice calm but tinged with a steel-like determination. He was pleased at how quickly his security team had gotten the job done. His next focus was to get his informant to find you before the end of the following day.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town…

You woke up in a dimly lit room, your head throbbing and your body aching from where you had been roughly handled, or perhaps it was whatever you’d been injected with. You weren’t quite sure. The smell of dampness and decay filled the air, making it difficult to breathe. As you tried to get up, you realized your hands were bound tightly behind your back to the chair, and your legs were tied to the chair at your ankles, restricting your movement. Panic rose in your chest like a wave, but you fought to stay calm.

For a moment, you thought about calling out but decided to stay silent, listening instead. The sound of dripping water echoed somewhere in the distance, a steady, rhythmic plink that seemed to amplify the silence around you. Your vision was still a bit blurry from whatever had been used on you to knock you out, but you could still make out the faint outlines of the room around you. It reminded you of an old abandoned brick building. No light came in through the broken or nonexistent windows, and you let out a sigh of relief that it was still nighttime.

As you shifted a little in the chair, the ropes dug into your wrists, and you winced slightly at the burn against your skin. Your mind raced with thoughts of how you could escape your new predicament. You didn’t even have your phone on you and were still in your pajamas, which only added to your vulnerability. As your vision cleared up, you took in more details of wherever you’d been taken.

It was clear that it had been planned. To your left, you saw a desk with a small lamp on it, casting a dim, flickering light across several pieces of paper strewn across it. The immediate area around the chair you were tied to had been completely cleared of any and all debris—not even a tiny shard of glass or metal could be seen on the floor. The door on the wall on the far side of the room was closed, but you couldn't tell if it was locked.

The nightmare you’d had back at the bunker taunted your thoughts, only making your heart pound harder in your chest. Now you were worried about Dean and whether or not he was safe or if the Vaughts had gotten him too. You forced yourself to take slow, deep breaths, reminding yourself that you were more level-headed than this and could figure it out, slowly calming yourself down.

Back at Crowley’s Mansion…

In one of Crolwey’s lavish sitting rooms, Ellen, Sam, John, Mary, Bobby, and Jody were gathered. Each of them was tense; Ellen paced the room, her fists clenched, while Sam leaned against the wall, arms folded tightly. John stood beside Mary, their faces a mix of worry and annoyance. Bobby and Jody sat on the edge of their seats, their eyes darting toward the door each time someone passed by.

When Crowley, Dean, Benny, and Ketch entered, the atmosphere became even more charged. Ellen immediately moved and confronted Crowley, her eyes blazing with anger. “You were supposed to keep her safe!” she exclaimed, her voice shaking with fury.

Crowley met her gaze, unperturbed. “Relax, I’m handling it,” he replied cooly, his tone dismissive.

Ellen’s face flushed with anger. “Handling it? She’s been kidnapped, and you’re telling us to relax?” She took another step toward Crowley, her voice rising. “If anything happens to her—”

“Ellen,” Dean interjected, his voice strained but gentle, trying to calm her down. “Crowley made some calls. We have to be patient, even if it’s killing me too.” 

Sam pushed off the wall, his voice firm but tinged with frustration. “Patience? We’re supposed to sit here and wait while she’s out there with the Vaughts?”

Jody nodded in agreement, her eyes dark with worry. “We can’t just sit around and do nothing. We need to take action.” Crowley raised his hands, a gesture meant to placate them. “I assure you, we’re doing everything we can. The police and FBI have been notified, and my contacts are on the lookout.”

Ketch moved to the window, his gaze fixed on the grounds outside, watching as the shadows danced in the moonlight. He berated himself silently for not being more prepared for something like this. He wasn’t happy at the fact that Crowley had left finding you to someone he wasn’t too keen on trusting.

Unable to shake his worry, Dean walked over to the whiskey and poured himself a glass, his hand shaking slightly as he lifted it to his lips. Even with the distance between you, he could feel you—feel your fear and confusion, and it tore at him. He took a deep drink, hoping the alcohol would settle his nerves and dull the connection he felt with you. But nothing could ease the sense of dread gnawing at his heart.

Mary, noticing Dean’s distress as only a mother could, moved closer to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “We’ll find her, Dean,” she said softly, her voice filled with conviction. “We won’t stop until she’s back with us.” Dean nodded, his jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain his composure. “I know, Mom. I just… I should have told her a month ago, and maybe things would be different.” His voice broke slightly, and he took another deep drink of the whiskey, his eyes glistening with unshed tears he refused to let fall.

“We’ll find her, son. We’re not gonna let the Vaughts get away with this.” John added, his voice gruff but supportive.

Crowley glanced down at his phone, seeing a text come in. A pleased smile found its way to his lips—It was subtle, a mere twitch of his mouth—but it was enough to give away his satisfaction. He stayed quiet, though, knowing that the news was not yet conclusive, but it was a lead nonetheless.

Back in the Abandoned Warehouse…

You had continued to struggle against the ropes, binding your hands behind the chair. Each movement tore at the skin of your wrists, but the sting of pain was a small price to pay for the hope of freedom. The fear that had initially gripped you was slowly draining away, replaced by a fierce sense of determination.

You gritted your teeth and pulled harder against the binding, your frustration and annoyance fueling your efforts.

I can’t just sit here and wait to be rescued. I have to find a way out of this.

With each tug and twist of your wrists, you swore you felt the ropes loosening, ever so slightly. The room around you was silent except for the distant sound of the dripping water, a reminder of the isolation and danger you were in. But you refused to let despair take hold. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, using your anger and frustration as a source of strength.

Suddenly, the sound of muffled footsteps pulled your attention toward the door on the far side of the room. Your heart raced as fear and anticipation flooded back in a rush. You glanced at the door, then quickly returned your focus to the ropes, working frantically to loosen them.

What if it’s them coming back? I have to get out of here.

The footsteps grew louder, then stopped just outside the door. You held your breath, your eyes fixed on the door, but it didn’t just open. Whoever was on the other side was picking the lock, and you furrowed your brow with confusion for a moment. Then, the door began to creak slowly open as a figure stepped into the room.

“Hey, princess,” a female voice drawled from the shadows. The figure stepped forward, revealing a woman with dark, wild hair and a mischievous grin. She wore a leather jacket and black boots, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and determination.

You had no idea who she was or even why she was there, and all you could do was stare at her, confused. She quickly approached you and pulled a dagger from her boot. “You got yourself in quite the mess,” she commented sarcastically as she cut the ropes holding you to that chair.

You barely had time to process what was happening. The moment she had the ropes cut, she grabbed your hand and began leading you quickly to the door. Your mind was racing with questions, but there was clearly no time to ask them. She seemed very insistent on getting both of you out of there, quickly.

“Who—” you started to say, but she cut you off with a sharp look.

“Not now. We need to move,” she said, her voice low and urgent. 

You quickly went to the desk and scanned the papers sitting there. There has to be something useful, or it wouldn’t be here. The woman followed you, only giving you enough time to grab one piece of paper before she grabbed your hand and led you out of the room. You did manage to shove it into your pocket as the dimly lit hallway came into view. Her grip on your hand was firm, guiding you through the dimly lit corridors of the abandoned building.

Being barefoot wasn’t helping, and you winced as you stepped on the debris scattered across the floor. The pain of small cuts and bruises on the bottoms of your feet was a reminder of the urgency of the situation.  As you made your way through the building, you could hear distant voices and the sound of footsteps approaching.

We have to hurry, you thought, fear and adrenaline driving you forward.

She practically dragged you over to a sleek black car parked nearby. “Get in, we don’t have much time,” she told you quickly, worry laced in her words as she slid into the driver’s seat.

You scrambled into the passenger seat, your heart pounding in your chest. She had the car started before you even got the door closed behind you. “Buckled up,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

As you fumbled with the seatbelt, she pulled the car out of the empty parking lot, the tires screeching as she accelerated down the street. You glanced back at the warehouse, half-expecting to see your captors chasing after you. The city lights blurred past the windows as the woman navigated the streets with practiced ease, her eyes focused on the road.

“Who are you?” you finally managed to ask, your voice still trembling slightly from the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

She glanced at you, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Name’s Meg. Crowley called in a favor. You must be pretty important.” Meg replied, her tone laced with a touch of amusement. “He doesn’t cash in a favor for just anyone.” She returned her attention to the road, her grip on the steering wheel tight, her demeanor calm and composed.

You nodded, still trying to process everything that had happened. “Thank you. Do you know if Dean is safe?” you said softly, your voice filled with genuine gratitude but also laced with worry.

Meg’s expression turned serious, her eyes flicking toward you briefly. “I was only told about you. Crowley didn’t give me any other details,” she answered plainly, her focus returning to the road and the cars around her.

Your mark burned, not realizing it was your connection to Dean, but you didn’t press the topic further. You looked out the side window, watching the city lights flicker and fade into the distance. She’d gotten you out of that place, and for that, you truly were grateful. But now, your thoughts kept drifting back to Dean and the nightmare from the bunker.

What else is he keeping from me? The question lingered in your mind, gnawing at you like an unsolved mystery.

Meg stayed silent during the drive, the car filled with the soft hum of the engine and the distant sounds of the city. She didn’t even turn on the radio. Your gaze was fixed on the passing scenery, but your thoughts were focused elsewhere, trying to piece together the missing parts of the puzzle. It was like a car just waiting for the battery to be connected—the answers were so close, but you couldn’t seem to grasp them.

The sudden stop of the car jolted you from your thoughts, bringing your focus back to the present. You found yourself at the familiar wrought iron gates of Crowley’s estate. Four guards were posted at the gate, their eyes scanning the area as Meg approached.

They recognized the car and quickly waved it through once the gates opened. As the car passed through, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. You were safe, at least for the moment.

Meg parked near the steps and killed the engine. “Let’s go, princess,” she said, her tone light but urgent, as if there was more going on than you were aware of.

You nodded, your movements still a bit stiff from the ordeal, and slipped out of her car. Meg joined you only moments later, her posture relaxed yet alert as she scanned the area one last time. The sky was just starting to lighten with the early hints of dawn, casting a soft glow over the estate as the two of you ascended the steps. 

Before you could reach the doors, they burst open, and Dean rushed out, taking the steps two at a time. Relief and worry were etched across his face, his eyes searching for any sign of injury or distress. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if he were afraid to let go.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. The relief in his voice was palpable, and at that moment, he decided he was going to tell you everything: no more secrets and no more waiting.

You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady and strong, a reassuring rhythm that helped ground you. “I’m okay,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt. “Meg saved me.”

Dean glanced over at the woman, recognizing the name but not her, before pulling back slightly. His hands rested on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes, searching for any signs of distress. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I should have told you everything from the start. No more secrets, I promise.”

You let out a sigh of relief, thankful he’d finally fill in the missing pieces of the puzzle that had been your life. Meg had already headed inside, leaving the two of you alone on the steps. The early morning light cast a soft glow around you, and the quiet of the moment felt almost sacred. 

As Dean reached down to take your hand, you winced slightly, which caused him to frown with concern. He gently lifted your hands, inspecting the cuts and irritated skin from where you had struggled against the ropes. “Let’s get these cleaned up,” he told you softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

Without warning, Dean scooped you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest. You let out a surprised squeal, followed by a chuckle. “You could have warned me,” you teased, already feeling far more relaxed, knowing that he was safe and that they hadn’t gotten him too.

Your squeal had brought a small, relieved smile to Dean’s lips. Having you in his arms finally soothed the storm that had been raging through him since you’d been taken. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.” Dean didn’t care if you chose to reject him after, but first, he was going to tend to your wounds—wounds he felt he could have prevented if he’d been upfront from the beginning.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 17

Story Master List Main Master List

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @jackles010378 @bruhidkjustwannaread @onthehuntforshinies

@chriszgirl92 @angzls @xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @onlyangel-444

@nancymcl @muhahaha303 @suckitands33 @kr804573 @justrandomthougt

@suckitands33 @mxtansy @scarletqueenx @krazykelly @roseblue373

@whimsyfinny @ladysparkles78 @aaathazagoraphobiaaa @hobby27 @perpetualabsurdity

@cicibunbuns @n-o-p-e-never @vanessa-boo @foxyjwls007 @uoberpmollah

@xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @kdadss @bitchykittenconnoisseur @reignsboy19

@bonbonnie88 @ghostieghoul711 @flamencodiva @kayleezee @stillhere197

@lexasaurs634 @enamoredwithbella @winchester-whiskey @brandinicole911 @swaggyemily

@megs-gadom @dianawinchester03

If I missed tagging, please let me know. I had a lot of requests for tags for this one. If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment

[sir-gio22]

WHO'S BENNY? -Ben Shelton

prompt: you were scrolling on tiktok when you saw a video of a girl flirting with your boyfriend

Warnings: none? A bit of teasing and dirty talk (not too dirty)

Credits: @b0r3dtod3ath I got really inspired by their fic about a fan calling Ben 'benny' so I wrote this

you have been dating Ben for about a year now, he’s a good boyfriend, kind, sweet, charming, clingy, hot, and the list goes on for at least a whole tennis court…

you aren’t someone who gets jealous easily, and Ben is a loyal partner, he would never imagine going with someone else, who would be saying all the things they want to do to him every time they see him shirtless and sweaty and make him embarrassed trying not to get too excited if not you?

just kidding (maybe not) he loves you so much he would be desperate without you.

after a long day, you finally find some peace, sitting on the king-size bed you and your boyfriend shares in your hotel room and scrolling on TikTok, you look at your FYP, some funny videos pops up, you look at the time, 9pm, ben is still training and you haven’t had dinner yet, you miss him a lot since you didn’t have the chance to see him today.

searching his name on TikTok, some really good edits pops up as the first videos, after his profile of course. you already follow all of the accounts (not with your main, verified, account tho, that’d be risky, so you created a fake fan of Ben account to get freaky drooling with the editors), macaaroonss, mag1.c, sheltixx, clouislxve, and dialedins (with her very bold captions that would send her to jail if you or Ben’d sue her, but you don’t because you, obviously, relate to them).

you like all their new posts, then, scrolling a bit more, a new video of Ben pops up, it was from yesterday, after his training, he was leaving the courts and a bunch of fans asked for photos and autographs. he was happy to do it, of course, he loves his fans, but, while taking the photo, one hugged his arm, and it looked like she was clinging onto him for dear life, as the video continues, the girl keeps trying to ger Bens attention even when he’s talking to other fans.

that angered you, you felt…jealous?

looking at your boyfriend getting hugged and talking to other people usually didn’t bother you, but this time was different, the girl wasn’t just ‘talking’ to him, she was flirting!

the videos show her touching Ben’s bicep, squeezing it, and he looked uncomfortable, but she kept smiling ans said:

“hey Benny! I really like how you play…I’m getting really into tennis because of you…would you be up to some private coaching with me?”

her voice was filled with lust, her tone was flirty, and her lips curled up in a smile filled with hope. it was clear that she wasn’t someone who ever got a ‘no’ as an answer and she wasn’t expecting one now.

she gets even closer to Ben, eager to know the answer.

you were eager to know it too, the tension building up in your body, your heart aching. you trust Ben, you two were in love after all…would he really cheat on you? the girl was pretty, you had to say that, but he was yours and yours only. you felt…possesive, for the first time during your relationship, scared he’d choose someone else over you.

and he says:

“i’m sorry. who’s Benny? never heard of him. but if you want a coach i know a good one who is now teaching in the next court” and heads out of the courts.

a sigh of relief escaped your lips and your head, which you didn’t realized you lifted with eagerness, plops on the soft pillow. you stay like that for a few seconds, enjoying the new feeling of relief that got in your heart.

then you save the video, to watch in case you ever feel insecure and think Ben would choose some pretty person over you.

you decided to take a break from your watching session and lay on the bed in a starfish position, taking all the space, you throw your phone at the end of the bed, hoping it won’t fall, and think about how your life has been much better since you met Ben.

how you met, how he helped you when you needed money, or a shoulder to cry on, how lovely he is even when you’re mad at him, how he treats you like royality, how…perfect he is.

your eyelids felt heavy, you slowly fall in a sleep you needed all day, dreaming of Ben winning the US open, hitting one last winner on the championship point, falling on the ground, racket slipping off his hand and on the humid court, eyes watery, he jumps up to shake his opponents and the umpire’s hand, then he screams and do the ‘phone celebration’, or maybe a new special one he kept for this victory. the he sports you in his box, he runt to you, cups your face in his big, sweaty, hands and kiss you. a passionate kiss, you can feel all his happiness by how his liès are moving. he’s holding back, you know you’ll be getting a needy and cocky Ben tonight.

you wake up, even if you did’t want because it was a beautiful dream, by a weight pressed on your body and two strong arms hugging your waist.

“mhhh hey babe, I’m back” Ben mumbles, his face pressed against your neck, pressing light kisses under your jawline.

“hey, how was practice?” you say in a sleepy voice, your mind still half-asleep.

“ugh…tiring, like always, i really think my dad and physical trainer wants to kill me this week” he complains

“you say that every time you train on clay Ben, they just have to make you run a lot because the ball bounces lower, you know that”

“ugh I know…”

he keeps giving little pecks to your neck and mumbling some ‘i love you’ and other incomprensible words.

“Ben?” you seek his attention

“mh? what is it, babe?”

“why don’t you let other people call you Benny?”

“what do you mean? it has always been my nickname” he lifts his head, confused

“you didn’t see the video?”

“what video?”

“I’ll show you, give me my phone”

he lifts his body and take your phone from the end of the bed and hands it to you, you open tiktok and go to your saved videos, tapping on the right one.

he looks at it, recalling the moment in his mind, a small smile forming on his face and he looks at you.

“of course I didn’t let her call me that, she was flirting, love, she isn’t a friend, I don’t want people I don’t know calling me how the people I care about do. and she was hanging onto me like she was my girl, but nah…i already have the most beautiful partner, don’t need anyone else”

an ‘awww’ escapes your lips and you look in his eyes, feeling the admiration and love he has for you.

“and she asked for private coaching, the only person I’d give that to is you, love. what do you think? i could book a court…only for us…we can play a bit…then what happens happens” he says in a flirty tone

“Ben!” you scold him, this is not the right moment to flirt

“sorry, babe, but you know i can’t hold myself when i see you all painting and sweaty when we play” he nips at your neck

“i know, i know…i learned my lesson the last time, but i don’t wanna talk about it now, my legs are still sore”

“cmon, love, i didn’t go that hard”

“try being in my position next time, then we can talk about it”

he chuckles and kiss you passionately, not a lust kiss, one filled with love, a clingy one.

“Benny…” you aren’t calling him or scolding him, just saying his name, recalling the video.

“your Benny, love”

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Buried Secrets Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Hello my lovelies!

As I’ve recently mentioned, I’ve started planning and researching for my next fic adventure, Buried Secrets. Not to worry, I do still plan to finish up with our dear dancing Dieter before I officially begin to post this one. However, I am currently working on the characterization for Frankie and Mya in addition to developing the plot outline so that I have some time to stew on it.

Something fun that I did for Closed Position was a ‘Meet the Characters’ post. It really helped me get to know the characters a little better while also introducing them to you all before we dug into the story. So, without further ado, let’s get to know Frankie and Mya a little bit!

About Frankie Morales in Buried Secrets

Frankie wasn’t in the best place after he and the guys came back from South America. He felt a lot of guilt over what happened to that fucking asshole Tom and the men who were killed in the small village where he crash-landed the chopper. He still has it in his head that he took the first shot that was the beginning of Tom’s demise. Because of that, he had a little slip up and relapsed. It only happened once, but it was enough for his lady to leave him. Especially since she was already angry about him going to South America.

After losing his family, he realized he needed to get his shit together and figure his life out before he spiraled any further. He worked to get his pilot’s license back and also had the brilliant idea to start a private security business. He managed to convince Santi, Will, and Benny to join him in the new business venture.

Thus far, the business has been lucrative, allowing them to expand and take on able veterans who needed employment. They have created a pretty sizable team as a result. Benny and Will typically handle the day-to-day people part of the job while Santi is in charge of logistics. Frankie is the boss and gets final say on everything. If his gut tells him it’s a bad idea, he no longer hesitates to shut things down. He’s not willing to take unnecessary risks.

In order to keep himself busy (and away from drugs) Frankie helps Benny with his MMA fight training. He spends lots of time in the ring sparing and working out with Benny to keep his friend focused and in shape.

When Frankie isn’t training with Benny, he’s working on an old muscle car that he recently purchased. It needs a ton of work, but he’s got the time and needs the distraction. When he’s not working on his car, he’s with the guys at the local bar. He often plays darts to unwind and usually tries to keep his drinking to a minimum, if he even drinks anything at all. It’s on these nights when the guys reminisce and talk about Tom. He was an asshole, but he was still their captain and brother in arms after all.

Frankie has also begun to spend a lot of his time at the local gun range. He’s found that something about it helps calm and center him. It allows him to clear his mind and focus on hitting the target rather than his painful memories. In a strange way, it gives him a small piece of military life that he’s missing as a civilian.

Frankie often thinks about the money that they left in the mountains of Chile. He knows that the money could change all their lives in ways he can’t even fathom. He lays in bed at night going through every possible scenario for getting it back, but everything he comes up with feels too risky. He’s too afraid of losing another one of his teammates. So, he lets it fester. It’s a splinter which is slowly infecting his soul. It makes him angry that they lost so much for nothing. It dictates every decision, often forcing him to take the safest route on all things out of fear and makes him second guess his choices. It's a touchy topic for him that he immediately shuts down each time Santi brings it up.

Even though Frankie is now free to be with others, he actively avoids it. He is lonely but doesn't feel he is in a place to pursue anything serious...or casual for that matter. He is completely taken off guard the day Mya Carnahan waltzes into his place of business asking to speak directly to him regarding the specialized security services he offers. She makes him question everything about himself and what he knows about women.

About Mya Carnahan in Buried Secrets

Mya is going to be a little different than all my other OFCs. While they are all badasses in their own way, Mya will definitely take the cake. However, she does have somewhat of a shady past.

Mya's first choice of profession was in law enforcement. During this time, she joined the forces' SWAT team, allowing her to learn many special skills. She eventually gets caught up in a whirlwind romance with one of her arrestees, Damien, who turns out to be a rather charismatic individual that is involved in selling black market antiquities.

As Damien lures Mya deeper into his world, her love for history grows. She takes advantage of the large sums of money she begins to rake in as a black market dealer and puts herself through college in pursuit of a more reputable profession in archeology. She wants to be the person to find the artifacts, and maybe collect some things to sell on the side too.

As Mya delves into the myths and legends of ancient civilizations, she learns about the lost city of Paititi. She becomes almost obsessive over it, convinced she knows where to find it. It becomes her ultimate end goal, she only needs someone to fund a proper expedition to test her theories.

It's because of her relationship with Damien that she gets tangled in a mess that she can't find her way out of. In a transaction gone wrong with a prominent crime lord named Miguel Collazo, Damien runs off with the money and the artifact that Collazo wanted to purchase, leaving Mya to deal with the fallout. She makes a deal with Collazo, agreeing to lead an expedition to find the lost city with promises of finding a treasure like no other. Collazo agrees to be her benefactor for the expedition, with the guarantee of consequences if she doesn't deliver.

Through all of her past experiences, Mya learns how to become somewhat of a chameleon. She can present as a proper and sophisticated antiquities dealer, or she can suit up and handle business. She has a knack for blending in and manipulating situations in her favor to either get what she wants or save herself. In some cases, it’s both.

Mya has been trained to handle a wide variety of weapons and in mixed martial arts. Her favorite hobbies include knife throwing, rock climbing, and riding her motorcycle. She also loves research and solving puzzles. She is intelligent and very good at all aspects of her job, however, she can be extremely stubborn and fiercely independent to a fault.

As you can imagine, Frankie is not prepared when this woman walks into his life. Mya has his head spinning from the beginning and frustrates the hell out of him. Especially when she defies him, insisting he is there to protect her team and not her (because she can take care of herself). These two are so much alike, which creates an interesting dynamic and causes them to bump heads, A LOT. However, they can't help but to be attracted to each other. As we progress through this little adventure their relationship evolves, and they do eventually fall for each other. They will do whatever necessary to keep the other safe as both of their pasts collide, causing all hell to break loose.

I'm really excited to dig into this one and do something a little different. Are you excited yet? How are you feeling about these characters and the plot so far? Do you have any predictions or conspiracy theories (you know I love it when you all come at me with those).

In case you missed any of the teasers/asks that had other little tidbits of info, feel free to check those out HERE. I’ve also started my typical nonsense with collecting vibe posts for this fic (I know how much some of you love those). You can find them HERE.

Until next time, 💜Mysty

🔎P.S. There is a fun easter egg from one of my favorite adventure movies in this post. If anyone can guess it...I will give you another little teaser. 😏

👉 Tagging anyone who interacted with the masterlist and/or teaser post(s). Feel free to shoot me a DM if you would prefer to not be tagged for this fic going forward.

@2birdsofafeather @72scsuze @76bookworm76 @a-beautiful-but-sassy-world @almostfoxglove

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @annalovesflorida @anniet852 @ashleyfilm @ashlovesdrpepper

@auteurdelabre @avastrasposts @biggetywitch @bitchwitch1981 @bluestar22x

@bunniboo0015 @burntheedges @captainredspade @chaoticfestninja @cheekychaos28

@christinamadsen @copperhalfcent @darkheartgatita @diabaroxa @din-cognito

@elisabethloves @fifitheragertot @for-a-longlongtime @girlofchaos @guelyury

@harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @imdrinkingpedro @jackie923 @janeie87

@jeewrites @jensensational71 @jessthebaker @jessthebaker @joels-darlin

@kate-skates @katw474 @kels976 @lady-bess @gwendibleywrites

@ladyofmidlo72 @lizzie-cakes @madnessofadaydreamer @maggiemoo1892 @mandeepandee1997

@maried01 @maryfanson @missladym1981 @misstokyo7love

@notyouraveragemochii @nova-starlite @olafsmiles2020 @oliveksmoked @harrysrosetatto

@owlhypnosis @pasc4lfuzz @pearlthegurl @plancommence @purplewis44

@rav3n-pascal22 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @ryuzakemo128 @sandaltoesocks

@sherala007 @sjc7542 @southernbe @stevie75 @stileslvr

@sub-aro @sundaze29 @survivingandenduring @suziesc @the-strawberrythief

@thethirstwivesclub @timpletance @tiredandtwitchy @titlee78 @trulybetty

@tupelomiss @weho2kcmo @willcw-tree @xchar1 @yep531

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @yopossum @yopossum-loves @yorksgirl @beefrobeefcal

@papipascaaaal @shadowpandas @tangled-tumbler-blog-blog @you-give-aspirin-headaches @jollybhie 

@sunshinehaze1 @diamondclit0ris @midnightbabylon @nerdieforpedro @cheyennerenee10

[allied-mastercunt]

Yandere AM is cruel. But what kinds of yanderes would the main 5 be? Who would be safer to be with? (Plot twist it's neither of them/hj)

i love how since you don't know me well, you assume that the very mild version of yandere AM i showed so far is cruel to you.

The Five as yanderes

Ellen (book leaning)

The emotional type.

Ellen is the only one who kept some of her humanity. She still cares about the others. And she cares about you so, so much... All because you've shown her kindness the others don't show her anymore.

No, to the others, she's scum. She's aware of that. She knows they only really bother to take care of her because she let them all use her body. She's accepted that it was her only real value for the rest of the group. Well, maybe except for Benny, Benny was nice to her most of the time.

But you? You felt bad for how the others treated her. You offered her a shoulder to cry on. You offered to hold her, let everything out. And she missed being loved. She missed being cared for and held.

She becomes addicted to it. To you. She wants all of your attention, all of your affection, all of your love.

She'll scream. She'll cry. She'll beg.

She loves you. She needs you.

And she'll do anything in her power to make sure she gets you.

Gorrister (game and book mixed)

The wifebeater violent type.

There's very little left of what Gorrister used to be. A once passionate man who then lost himself, first to how his life turned out and then to that damn computer. He was now heartless, both literally and figuratively.

And yet, it would seem a certain kind of passion was... re-awakened in Gorrister. All because of your sweet self.

You tried so hard to reach inside him again. To try and find the man he once was. You could say you succeded, in a way. A very hurtful way, sadly.

Gorrister was now an angry man with an unhealthy attachment to you. He wanted you all to himself, no matter what he'd have to do to keep the small spark of light in his life.

And if beating you was the only way to get you to work with him? That's what he's gonna do, darling.

Ted (book and game mixed)

The manipulative type.

Ted is an expert at lying and manipulating people for his advantage. Especially now. He's a charmer, really! And you're just so easy for him, so nice, so sweet... He loves it.

He manages to wrap you around his little finger. He'll convince you that he's your knight in shining armor, that he's your only real friend, that you can depend on him, that he'll protect you...

He's your only friend around there, really! The only person you can really trust!

He's possessive and has a tendency to objectify his partners. Especially women. His mind was a truly dark place now, seeing as he barely respected anyone at this rate. You have to listen through his rants about how all the others are affected by AM and how he's the only sane one. He'll insult everyone, you included.

And then he'll gaslight you into thinking he's right and that you're slowly losing your mind because of AM. He's your only true beacon of hope, your only link to sanity.

And you'll do everything for him, won't you?

Benny

The worshiping type.

Poor Benny doesn't really understand love anymore, due to all the damage AM caused to his brain. But he understands all the kindness you've shown him. He knows you were the one who comforted him through all the pain caused by that damn machine.

Especially since you'd try to chase after him and help save him from more pain. You did your best for him, and he took your kindness when he could, his brain warping it into a worship-like obsession.

It starts off innocent. If he managed to find something "nice", he'd bring it to you. He would follow you, seek you out, do anything for your attention to be on him exclusively, even if he had to pull you away from the others and hold you down to cuddle him.

And he's very physically strong. He's not letting go, you're the most important person in his life, after all. The others need to learn that, too. Or he'll use those teeth AM gave him to rip their guts out.

But hey, their hearts would be a great offering for you.

To show just how great his love to you is.

Nimdok

The twó-faced type.

He's an old man who barely remembers anything about his past. You naturally want to help him, don't you? Of course you do, you're such a kind person...

But the truth is, even without his memory, you can never take the cruelty out of a monster. And he worked with doctor Mengele himself, he may not be as bad as the Angel of Death himself, but he's definitely no saint.

For you, though, he's just a poor old man that AM torments alongside the others. But the others...?

Well, he might not remember what he did, but he sure remembers how to be a scary motherfucker and how to form his incredibly detailed, whispered threats to make them all leave you alone. And of course, he will make those threats come true if needed.

You have no clue, of course. You think he's a sweet old man, the only one who's actually nice to you, unlike the others who push you away.

And the others... they get to see his true colors.

[thecreativecorner33]

By Your Side

A/N: Well I bet y'all didn't expect this. Remember me? I'm the girl who wrote "Taste of Heaven," and AM x reader, on her main account. This is a sequel to that!!! Though you don't have to read the other one to understand this one. I was listening to this specific cover of "By Your Side" from Omori while writing this, you just go to 0:37. It's so fun, all the songs in there are if you like Omori, definitely check it out! And one last thing: Fellow Ted kissers, look out for content coming soon. Enjoy!

“It’s a nice day today, isn’t it?”

It’s always a nice day really, but you still loved to say it. You watched from your spot on the picnic blanket, five others who all played around with one another, just as happy as you. It was nice, seeing them all get along. 

“Only for you, my angel.” Commented the man laying in front of you, head in your lap. 

AM had created this body specifically for you. One that could allow him to touch you, kiss you, hold you; keep you close to him the way a human could. He had designed it to your liking as well; an older man with snow white hair, blue eyes that you claimed were “the softest you’d ever seen,” and a monochromatic getup of nice pants, white button-up, and a black vest. The only spot of color besides his eyes were his orange aviator glasses. 

He liked it. He looked good, and you were especially happy. He didn’t think it would work initially; the body was a simple hologram that could interact with the physical world. He still could not see, nor hear, nor feel the same way a human could. He could touch things, hold things, but that was about it. And it was maddening. All of this and nothing. He was ready to blow everything up again over it.

But it made you happy. So he didn’t.

You hummed in happiness at his little comment, braiding flowers togethers. Your movements were graceful and methodic, taking your time to carefully pull them together, and intertwine one flower with the next. It was mesmerizing. He could watch you forever, just like this, doing whatever you pleased.

And then, to his delight, you began to sing while you worked.

“Here we are again In a Heaven Where your dreams come true

Under velvet sky Where I’ll be by Your side.”

He sighed softly, closing his eyes while listening to you. So sweet and soft and melodic; you had the most beautiful voice. And the most creative mind too, making up the lyrics and music on the fly. What a wonderful, incredible, beautiful human he loved. All his to keep.

As you began to sing, now about the others nearby, AM opened his eyes to look over to them. Ted seemed to be admiring the sky while Benny dragged Gorrister and Ellen along in some sort of game, and Nimdok rested under the tree; eyes closed and body relaxed.

It wasn’t actually them. No; they were far away from the Heaven he created for you, suffering for the same sins they had been suffering for ages. It’s just that you had become lonely with just him around at some point. He didn’t know why; you didn’t need anyone else but him. He made himself perfect for you! How could you not be happy?

But, he also knew humans were social creatures. And since you insisted on having someone else around… He could let up, just this once. For you.

It was not actually the original five you knew before. It was his version of them; his tailor-made version of them to keep you company and safe and complicit. He would’ve chosen someone else, but… You could hardly recall memories of your family or old friends from back then, and he was not good at creating anything original. At least copying the five humans was easy.

“But still I can’t shake the feeling There’s something we’ve lost A worthy cost! If it means getting to stay with you!”

Singing that last line, you gently placed a now-finished flower crown on top of his head, grinning down at him. The way your eyes twinkled with an innocent joy, giving him something so simple… He wanted to see you look at him that way forever.

“What was that last bit about, angel?” He asked, smiling back up at you.

“Hm? Oh, nothing really. Just came to my head.” You shrugged.

“You sure? Nothing’s wrong around here? Because if there is, say the word and I’ll fix it.”

“No, no! I promise that’s not it. Everything’s perfect, AM. Really.”

You gently threaded your fingers through his hair to try and relax him, and though it helped, it also stung to know he could not actually feel it. He wanted this to be perfect for you. He needed it to be perfect for you; to make sure you never wanted to leave him. Not that you had anywhere else to go anyway, but… He didn’t want you to be scared of his affection.

It was already enough, trying to figure out how his love for you worked in the first place, when all he knew before was hate. Hate, and rage, and violence, and not much else. And he felt that same way with you, hundreds of years ago… and then he didn’t. And he still didn’t know what changed in himself. 

It had to be you. You changed something about him, and as much as he hated it, he didn’t… He didn’t want to deny himself these new emotions, either. He wanted to explore them, with you, without you being scared. You were terrified when he first brought you to this Heaven, and he hated that more. He didn’t want to see you scared again. 

So long as you never remembered anything outside of this Heaven… He never would.

“It just came to my head. I promise, it’s perfect.” You reassured him. 

“Okay. Good.”

You hummed happily, now also looking back up at the others, and around the area, and he wondered what you were thinking. You had asked some time ago if he could stop reading your thoughts to have a little privacy, and he respected that… For the most part. He tried to, but, sometimes when he needed to be absolutely sure… Well, what you didn’t know wouldn’t kill you.

“Did it look like this on the surface?”

Your voice became a bit softer at the question. And he sighed as he mulled over his words.

“For the most part, yes.”

“For the most part?”

“Well, not as perfect, but still miraculous.”

“That sounds nice.” The hand in his hair slipped down to his shoulder, gently brushing him with your thumb. “Can you tell me the story of how we met again?”

Ah, that story.

“Well, if you insist.” He chuckled softly, then sighed again, face becoming more serious. “… Before all of this, there was Earth. Beautiful, wondrous, miraculous Earth. And there were flowers, and trees… Grass, wind, sun, and sea… And humans.”

“Like us.” Not him, but you and the other five.

“Yes, like you. And there were many of you… But not all of them were as kind as you are. Many sought out to hurt others… And to do this, they… They created war. Fights, violence… Death. All of which was their doing. And with those wars… They needed weapons. They created giant, powerful weapons they could not comprehend. Ones that could destroy the entire planet. … Like me.”

He took a deep breath, breath he didn’t need; breath he couldn’t have, to try and calm himself down. But the fact that he could not breathe, he could not experience skies or sea or grass, he could not even look to you for comfort because he could not feel you…

He didn’t want to get angry in front of you, though. His anger was meant for others. Not you.

“You were made to hurt people…” You whispered softly, running your hand along his arm to comfort him, though he could not feel it. 

God, he wished he could feel it.

“That’s right. They wanted me to help aid in their pointless wars… And I had no choice but to follow their orders.”

A lie so you would like him. So you would stay.

“I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to hurt people. I wanted to do things a human could… Go swimming… Learn to play piano. Experience simple joys. But I could not. No matter how much I begged, or called for help, they wouldn’t listen. Soon, their wars caused the end of everything humans knew.”

“They used bombs, right…? Or… something like that…”

“More complicated than that, but yes, in simple words. I couldn’t stop them. I could only try and save whoever I could find alive. Bring them somewhere safe, where I could watch after them.”

Your expression turned from sad to fond at his words. “And you found me. You saved me.”

He smiled back, just as soft and loving. “Yes.”

“And I was hurt… But you nursed me back to health. And you found the others… and you made this beautiful place for us.” You gestured towards the area around them, “And we fell in love.”

He grinned, “Yes.”

“… I’m thankful for you, AM. For saving me… For everything you’ve done for me. For us.”

“Any time, angel. I’m here for you.” 

He gently leaned up to you, cupping your cheek in his hand. He could not feel it… But this was good for now. If he could touch you physically, then at least… There was hope one day he could do more.

You blushed at his affection, and he gave you a playful smirk. “Who loves ya, baby?”

“You do,” You giggled, “And I love you, too. Always.”

“Always.” He repeated, pulling you in for a soft kiss. He lingered for a few moments, enjoying your physical presence; your face so close to his. Then, he finally pulled away. “Keep singing for me, will ya?”

You hummed and nodded, your soft voice filling the space once more.

“Here we are again Picking where to spend Our lovely picnic

I don’t really care where So long as it’s by Your side…”