#i’m gonna DESTROY the next test now

[magnusthepuppet]

ok gonna do an unserious vent rq but HOLY FUCK I UNDERSTAND CHI SQUARES.

i was working on my ap bio lab report and it’s about genetic linkage and shit and i have to use chi square values to prove/disprove a null hypothesis, right? well chi squares have been FUCKING MY ASS all year. EVERY. SINGLE. TEST. the only question i ever get wrong is the GODDAMN CHI SQUARE ONE.

and so while working on this lab report i’m like, “fuck this i don’t even know what i’m talking about” so i go searching online and FINALLY. AFTER LIKE AN HOUR OF READING RANDOM MATH WEBSITES. I UNDERSTAND.

coach ily but you DID NOT EXPLAIN THAT SHIT RIGHT 🙏

[arc-misadventures]

MFK with Jaune: Harley Quinn, Pamela Isley, and Selina Kyle

Jaune: MFK XII

Nora: Oh Jaune-Jaune~?

Jaune: No, you can’t have your grenades back.

Nora: But, that’s not…?!

Jaune: You aren’t allowed to test peoples bone density with your war hammer.

Nora: But, it’s only, Cardin… Wait! No, that’s not what I want…??

Jaune: You can’t have another, McSchneer Lumberjack Burger. They banned you after you demanded more maple syrup bacon strips, and subsequently destroyed the counter when they said no.

Nora: That’s not what I wanted to ask!

Jaune: It’s not; Then what is it?

Nora: MFK~!

Jaune: Naww fuck…

Nora: Harley Quinn, Pamela Isley, or Selina Kyle~?

Jaune: The ladies of, Batman’s Rouge Gallery? Why them?

Nora: Why not them?

Jaune: …

Jaune: Fair enough… Okay… I would kill, Poison Ivy.

Nora: Aww… but, I thought you liked us red heads~?

Jaune: I do, but it’s more of personality/mind set kind of thing. I understand why she wants to save the environment, and all that. But, considering her powers she could make plants that absorb the pollution, and cleanse the environment like nature currently does. I mean, we’ve got algae springing up the can digest plastics, and there are mushrooms capable of absorbing nuclear radiation. I mean come on! Poison Ivy could easily do that, and make something ten times better at doing that! But, no let’s kill all the corrupt businessmen, politicians, and everyone on the whole god damn planet to save the environment! That’s sounds lovely~!

Nora: Okay… that sounded personal…

Jaune: Sorry, but environmentalists annoy the hell out of me! I mean come on! Let’s stop using all fossil fuels, and natural gas to prevent the world from ending in the next five years, a notion that they have said a dozen times in the last three decades! Not to mention that idea would kill millions in a matter of weeks if implemented?!

Nora: …?!

Nora: So…

Nora: Who ya gonna fuck…?

Jaune: Harely Quinn.

Nora: Oh really, you got a thing for clowns~?

Jaune: No. I have to pick, and of the two I would like to sleep with, Harely Quinn. I’m curious about how flexible she would be, among other things…

Nora: Nice~!

Jaune: And, lastly I would marry, Selina Kyle.

Nora: Why her?

Jaune: Admittedly I like, Catwoman the most out of the trio. I like her mature elegance, that femme fatale, and saucy air about her. Plus, I read the comics, she a romantic at heart with, Bruce Wayne. Granted unless written as so, Selina never overcomes, Bruce’s obsession with being, Batman. But, in the stories they do get together, they form a strong lasting pair who grow up to have a loving family together with.

Jaune: I want that too…

Jaune: You happy, Nora, have you got your answer.

Nora: I’m ecstatic, Fearless Leader~! I’ll see you later~!

Jaune: …

Jaune: Somethings off with that smile of hers… I don’t like it…

~~~

Nora: Alright ladies, have you made your decision?

Cinder: Perfectly! I will be going as, Catwoman. I already have a catsuit that I know, Jaune will absolutely drool all over~!

Nora: Oh, nice! It really shows of your phat ass! He better give that a nice hard slap when he sees it!

Cinder: I’ll give him plenty of reasons to do just that~! Now, Neo will be using her semblance to dress as, Harley Quinn. She is also flexible enough to play the part~!

Nora: I’m sure, Jaune will love that~! Don’t pull a muscle out there , Neo!

Neo: 😁

Nora: No, I’m being serious, he will pull some muscles when he’s done with you!

Neo: 🤕🥴

Nora: Oh~? Kinky, I like it~!

Cinder: And, lastly, Emerald will be using her semblance to appear as, Poison Ivy!

Emerald: Are you sure this will work? He hates, Poison Ivy.

Nora: That means he’ll hate fuck you to get rid of that pent up rage~!

Emerald: Oh…? Oh~? Oh that sounds like fun~!

Cinder: Alright girl, let’s head out! Let’s show, Jaune what’s it’s like to be embrace by a trio of femme fetale’s~!

Emerald: Thanks, Nora, we really appreciate your help!

Nora: No problem ladies! And, good luck!

Nora: Cause… you’ll need it… oh boy you’ll need it…

[hexed-padlock]

Hi. As requested by a few people, here’s a fic of my AU/Headcanon where Tav killed Strahd but keeps it a secret from the party. I’m planning a few different scenarios of the reveal, but here’s the first (and most serious). Next ones are gonna embody the original premise more. Couldn’t get this scene out of my head though. Also a bit of Astarion x Tav here.

Takes place as you meet Cazador, where he starts mocking Astarion.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Do the cattle not know you?”

They were below the Palace, facing Cazador as he readies the ritual for his Ascension. 200 years of torment and this is where it all ends. Here and now.

Astarion tenses, seconds from lunging. This was his tormentor, the bastard who robbed him of his freedom, the monster who destroyed thousands of lives. A vampire hundreds have tried and failed to kill.

The room grows colder as Cazador continues to humiliate, to mock, to belittle.

Astarion’s jaw clenches and-

Tav laughs, loud and mocking. They’ve barely reacted thus far, and the sudden noise catches everyone off guard. Their eyes glint, one natural and the other burning with fiery, infernal magic.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t take you seriously anymore. You truly are pathetic.” Tav taunts, head tilting as a lazy smirk crawls onto their face.

Cazador’s own mocking grin turns down into a sharp frown as he finally turns his attention to Tav. “Just what makes you think you can speak to me that way? You’re nothing more than a lamb led to slaughter. Cattle to be consumed. An animal at best.”

“Are all vampires this delusional?” Tav voices the question to no one in particular. Cazador seethes, and the party tenses.

What was Tav doing? Were they insane?!

Astarion moves to grab Tav as they take a couple steps forward, but misses as they smoothly sidestep away from his grasp.

Tav pulls out a sword hilt from the pouch on their hip, testing it’s weight in their hand absentmindedly. The party never understood the significance of this old sword hilt. Sure, it was beautiful, made of an elegant platinum, but it has long since lost it’s blade. Dammon once offered to forge it a new blade but Tav politely declined.

“I’ve met another vampire before you. He was always prattling on and on about being all powerful, lord of the night… something something.” Tav pauses to shift the sword hilt to their left hand. Slowly, deliberately, Tav locks eyes with Cazador (pointedly ignoring their party). “He’s dead now, of course.”

For a moment, Cazador pauses, before the same mocking grin returns. “A spawn is hardly considered a vampire. Though perhaps to you, worm, you see no difference.” Cazador then begins speaking slowly, as if communicating with a child or an animal. The mocking grin grows. “Allow me to enlighten you-“

“I never said ‘spawn’,” Tav cuts off Cazador. “Maybe your old age is finally getting to you, leech.”

Tav shifts the sword hilt back to their dominant hand, subtly maneuvering the hilt into a proper grip. “Maybe you’ve heard of him. His name eludes me. Forgive me, but it’s been a few years. I think it starts with an S.”

All the while, the party is flabbergasted. Sure, they’ve seen Tav do some questionable things over the past few months such as walk straight into a goblin camp, lick some spider meat, and even taunt Mizora—but this is a new level of insane.

Astarion tries to get their partner to stop, because for the love of everything, shut up. He’s never seen Cazador this mad before. Sure, they’ve survived some pretty dangerous situations before, but taunting a vampire lord is madness. However, each time he tries to move or speak, his voice dies in his throat. He’s terrified, he’s rooted on the spot. He’s afraid of Cazador yes, but he’s even more afraid for Tav. The brilliant, shining light of his life. The one person who showed him kindness, love. He’s afraid of Cazador, but he’s more scared of losing them.

Before Astarion could try to intervene again, he feels Tav send a wave of reassurance through the tadpole. They glance back at him for a moment, narrowed eyes softening, before turning once more to face Cazador.

Tav hums for a couple seconds as they pause to think. “Samael? No. Maybe it was Seraph?” They huff for a bit as they make a show of wracking their mind for the name. “Aha! I remember now.”

They brace for combat and the Sunsword answers its wielders call.

Tav’s smirk turns into a cold sneer. Their eyes glow as the hilt in their hand erupts in a fiery plume, a blade of radiant light now burning in the darkness. “It was Strahd.”

————————

Idk… if anyone wants to be notified of a new fic in this AU/series you can let me know?

Anyway, next these will all be independent of each other. Each will be an alternate take on the reveal.

I haven’t written anything besides D&D backstories in literal years so please forgive me if this is rather rough. Always open to constructive criticism.

[darkbluekies]

AHHH JUST GOT ANOTHER REQUEST! silas with a crackhead gen z s/o.This guy would be so fking confused.😭😭

Silas:walk out of that front door and I'll break your legs👿👿.

s/o:*uses the open window besides the door instead and casually walks away*

Silas texting:WHY ARE YOU NOT HOME YOUR GONNA GO THROUGH HELL IF YOU DON'T COME BACK.

S/o: You're* dumbass and proceeds to ignore the calls from this dumb af guy.

first anon (im sorry but i thought this was funny 😭😭)

[Do you want to break him??? Congrats, you succeeded 😭]

Not a joking matter

Mafia!yandere OC x reader

Summary: you decide to pull a stunt on Silas while you are fighting, which causes him to go insane with fury. He promises himself to make sure you never dare to do it again.

Warnings: yandere content, mentions of killing, guns, threats, isolation punishment, Stockholm syndrome, Silas who can't take a joke, manipulation

Word count: 1.5k

Normally, you wouldn’t dare fight with Silas. It only gave you consequences you couldn’t bear. Besides, just giving in and listening to him makes your world turn easier. But some days, things get too much and your anger bubbles out. This has led you and Silas to argue down by the front door about his jealousy.

“I’m literally done!” you scoff out. “You’re insane, this is insane! I’m leaving!”

“If you walk out through that door, I’m breaking your legs”, Silas warns you with his arms over his chest. “Don’t test me, little thing.”

You give him a long stare before opening the window next to the door and jumping out. Silas gaze darkens as he watches you walk away. How dare you?

“What are you doing, boss?” one of his men asks with a shaking voice. “Are you just going to let them leave?!”

“They will be back soon”, Silas says through gritted teeth. “They can’t survive without me. And when they return, they’ll go back into the basement until they apologize sincerely.”

“And if they don’t come back, boss?”

“Then they’ll regret it.”

You walk along the road, cursing Silas for living out in the middle of the fucking forest. You’re not even wearing shoes! Why did you walk out like that? Well, at least you’re free. Right? This has to be worth it. You have to show Silas that you mean business … he can't treat you like that.

You reach the nearest city after an hour of walking. You're sure you've destroyed one skinlevel by now. No blood has been drawn yet, but your skin is ripped and dirty. You sink down by the side of the road, next to a coffee shop. Now what? You don't have any money … only your cell phone. Silas IT master has blocked the phone from calling any other number than Silas.

It buzzes. You look down and see a message from him.

"WHY ARE YOU NOT HOME?? YOUR GOING TO GO THROUGH HELL IF YOU DON'T COME BACK, DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?"

You shouldn't do it — it's childish — yet you do it. Your fingers tremble as you type the message back, but you can't help but snicker for yourself.

"You're*"

If only you could see his face once he receives the message. Silas, on the other hand, throws his phone at the wall once he gets your little fun text. He calls you, but you don't answer. He calls again … and again … and again. Same automatic voice telling him to try again later.

"This little shit, I swear to God-" he growls before grabbing his car keys. "I'm going to get them, I don't fucking care. They'll be sorry. Who the fuck do they think they are? Seriously? Fucking brat.”

“What are you going to do, boss?” the same man as before asks.

“If Y/N wants to act like a shitty, little brat, then I’ll treat them like one.”

He rips open the door and walks out to his black sports car. You might be his darling, but this car is his baby. Although he doesn’t know where you are, he has an idea. There's not a lot of places you could have gone to. You're not stupid enough to run into the forest, you'll have followed the road. You can't have gotten too far. He'll find you.

He notices that you're not on the road.

"These little legs were faster than I thought", he mumbles. "Just wait til I get my hands on you."

He drives into the small city, looking around. A smirk creeps up on his face once he sees you sitting on the sidewalk. He parks the car right in front of you and jumps out. His anger turns into some weird adrenaline kick once he sees your terrified eyes. He will punish you, don't you worry … but first he wants to play.

"Either you get in the car now or I'll make you", he says with one hand resting inside of his jacket, on his gun. "I'll blow this place up."

You know Silas, and you know what he keeps in his pocket. You know he's not lying. Suddenly, incapable of moving, paralyzed in fear, you shake your head desperately. Silas smiles.

"Boom", he says, forming his mouth to an 'O'.

"No, please", you whisper.

"Yes? If you say so …"

He's about to pull put the gun. You finally manage to move your limbs and shoot up from the sidewalk, stopping his hand.

"Silas, don't", you beg.

"But you wanted to be bratty and not do what I said", he pouts and gives you puppy dog eyes. "It's not more than fair that I get to play too?"

"Silas, people will get hurt if you do that."

"People could have gotten hurt by your stunt too. If I wouldn't have found you …" He moves closer until you can feel his breath against your face. "... I'd killed all of my men."

You shiver and give him a horrified glance.

"Y/N, get in the car now", Silas tells you seriously, no longer in the mood to play games.

And you do.

"Y/N, I want you to know something", Silas says as he starts driving away. "You only 'escaped' today because I let you. The only reason you're still alive is because I went to get you. You should be happy that I love you because what would you have done without me? You have no money, your phone — which you should be grateful I gave you — only works for my number … you aren't even wearing shoes!"

Your head slumps. You shouldn't feel so guilty, you shouldn't start to cry … but you do.

"I could have left you", Silas continues. He won't stop until you've broken down completely. "I could have forgotten about you and moved on, find somebody that actually appreciates what I do for them and is grateful for my love. But I went back for you because I love you."

He has noticed that you've started crying in the seat next to him, but he isn't done.

"People could have died today and it'd be all your fault", Silas says.

"Stop!" you shout and cover your ears with your hands. "I get it! I'm sorry!"

"I'm not sure you do, baby. That's why you'll spend a little while down in the basement once we get home. Just to make sure this won't happen again."

You want to protest, but his gaze makes you shrink to the size of an ant. Yu're already six feet down, no need to do yourself any further.

When you get back to his house, he pulls you with him down to the basement and chains you before saying a word.

"Silas, I'm really sorry", you sob. "I'll never do it again. Please don't leave me here.'

"You've acted like a complete brat, baby. My partner is an adult, not a damn child, do you get that?"

"Yes!"

"Good. I will see you in a while."

"No, Silas, please!" you shout. "Don't leave me here!"

You hear the door to the ground floor, leaving you in pitch black darkness. You sob out into the emptiness and hug your legs, burying your face into your knees.

You don't know how much time passes by. You have no idea how long time you've been down here, all you know is that your growling stomach stopped making sounds a long time ago. It doesn't hurt anymore … although it should. Your body must have gone numb because you can't feel anything. Or you've died. That's at least what you tell yourself. You no longer live and will never feel anything else ever again. This basement works wonders on the brain.

The door from the ground floor creaks. You look up, seeing how Silas come walking down. Your body fills with electricity. He came back!

"Hey, baby", he says and squats down in front of you.

"Silas …", you say quietly, tasting the name, seeing if he can hear you. Seeing if you're alive.

"Yes?"

A wave of relief flows through you. Your hands start reaching out for him, needing to hold onto something to fully convince you that you're still real.

"Careful, baby", Silas says softly and stops your hands. "I have to remove the chains first."

Impatiently, you wait for him to unlock the heavy metal keeping you to the ground. As soon as you feel the weight lifting, you throw yourself at him, locking your arms around his neck and hiding your face into his warm shoulder. He chuckles and wraps his strong arms around you in return.

"Eager to see me?" he smiles right by your ear.

You don't answer. You're happy to see someone. It just happens that this someone is Silas.

"Do you want to come upstairs now?" he asks.

You nod against his shoulder.

"You're not going to be a bratty little shit anymore?" he asks.

You shake your head.

"And you won't pull a childish stunt?" he asks.

You shake your head. Your humor doesn't work on him and you learned that the hard way.

"Very well then, let's go", Silas says and stands up, pulling you up with him.

You wrap your legs around his torso and keep your arms in place. You can hear him purr like a cat. Silas always gets what he wants. He always wins.

[dollydaisies]

Can I pls request a BTS reaction? They have a crush on their friend who is not a celebrity, so they can't confess to her because of their reputation/job, but they are really close. One day someone from their company revealed a sensitive information about them. So, the members and the company accused her of it because they thought that she was only with them to become famous. They didn't believe her and also told her many hurtful things. But later it was revealed that it was not her but someone else and she was telling the truth. Later they try to reconcile with her and asks her to forgive them but it was too late. Can you please write it as angst?

If it's too specific for you, you don't have to write it. Thank you anyways ☺️☺️

my first ask! thank you so much for sending this! my bts skills may be a tad bit rusty, so i'm sorry if this isn't up to par with your expectations. im doing allll the research i can! some things may be changed up a bit, but i'm trying to stick to your prompt the best that i can!

summary: forbidden love hurts, and it sometimes builds up frustration inside you, which then turns into flipping out on the person you love nonsensically solely because you're overwhelmed. they had to learn to think before they act, and, now, they're suffering from the consequences of their actions.

characters: just to test the waters and see if you like what i'm doing, i am only doing kim namjoon. if you like this, i will continue with the other members i’m comfortable writing! please tell me if i did well or was a lil' off. i'll always take constructive criticism:)

kim namjoon never meant to hurt anyone, but he especially made sure that he would not hurt you. he cares about you so much, to the point where seeing you even slightly sad could mess up his whole day.

you're bts's songwriter and producer, but also their friend. when they make plans, they want to include you, always. even if they go to the beach for a run bts episode, they want YOU to be there after the cameras are off. of course, every single member of the group wants you to be around, but namjoon insists on it. you're his safe place, the person he confides in when times get hard--why wouldn't he want you there?

"are you sure you don't want to come with us on this tour?" namjoon looks at you with full passion in his eyes. he wants you to come with them, even if he won't directly say it. "you know that we will always want you to come with, right?"

that little "we" always gets you every time. sure, you know that it's true, and so does he, but that's not what you want to hear and that's not what he wants to say. you want to hear him say "i want you to come with," but it feels like he refuses to say it. he's only not saying it because it'll make his feelings too real, and he can't deal with the reality that you can never be his.

"ah, i know, joonie... but i need to work on the ideas you all gave me for this next album. it's the final one before you all go on hiatus, so i can't take a break," you respond, playing with your bowl of ramen without eating it. you're the only two in the kitchen, and it's quiet. "i'd love to go, but i just can't afford to right now. you know i'm short on money."

namjoon sighs, but nods. "i understand. it's just gonna be hard to be on tour without you."

you send him a sweet smile, then giggle softly. "you're such a baby, did you know that?"

"it's our little secret, keep it hush."

that wasn't the secret that destroyed everything you've built with him over the past decade, but it was more of a foreshadow. you felt excited at the idea of having a secret with him, but also dread--this is silly, though. you guys have thousands of secrets. you're best friends, and you always have been, so why is your gut telling you to fight or fly?

around a week later, dispatch reports on news that namjoon has never told a soul about--except for you. the moment his brain processes the information told to him by the higher-ups, he immediately gets up from his seat and marches to your usual spot that you linger in.

"get out."

"huh?"

your face is full of pure confusion, a bit like a deer in headlights. sure, you've had your arguments and fights before, but he has never been this harsh off the bat--hell, he was rarely ever truly harsh.

the way his eyes look at you with pure disgust, and the sarcastic laugh he lets out... it feels like you don't know who's standing in front of you. yeah, it's namjoon, but... it's also not.

"i knew you were desperate for money, y/n, but i didn't think you'd be this desperate. if i knew you were like this, i would've fired you sooner."

"namjoon, what the hell are you talking about?" you stand up from your seat, yelling at him a bit. it's obvious you aren't even mad, you're just a mix of confused, scared, and worried.

"you know what i'm talking about, y/n. hell, the rest of the world does as well, since you decided to go to dispatch about it."

he holds up his phone so you can look at the site he pulled up. you scrolled and scrolled in pure shock, confusion, and disgust. "i... namjoon, i did not rat you out to anyone. why would i?"

"people like you only care about money. figure it out, and get out of this dorm."

absolutely stunned, you walk to the door in complete silence, then turn around. he looks a bit lost in thought, then he finally sees you. you, whose eyes are full of tears; you, whose cheeks are red due to how panicked you got from him yelling; and you, who refused to yell at him back even when he disrespected you.

while he was so sure he was right, a pit in his stomach grew larger. he feels like he’s doing something bad, something wrong, and he doesn’t know why.

"i just want to say," you pause for a second, then continued. "if this is the real you, kim namjoon, maybe i should've been the one to expose you after all."

you slam the door.

months have passed, and you work at a local music store. sure, you write songs still, but they're not for anyone else except you. you refused to talk to all of them, talk about all of them, or even think about any of them. in your mind, bts disbanded the second he broke your heart, and your trust. truthfully, it’s unfair, as all the other members have texted you so many times and begged for a response, but you can’t think of them without thinking of him.

the store is completely empty, so you're scrolling through every single social media app you have downloaded brainlessly. the words you're reading are not completely processing in your head at all, they kinda just look like funky shapes.

one title, though, caught your attention.

"kim namjoon talks about trust, compassion, and friendship in recent SEVENTEEN interview."

your jaw clenches, and you slam your phone down. your tears are threatening to come out, but you refuse to let yourself still be hurt by him. he doesn't deserve your time, your tears, your anything. that's, at least, what you keep trying to convince yourself of, anyways.

the bell at the door rings, and you try to regain your composure. you

"welcome to good vibes, home to all of the--"

you freeze. you don't know what to do, what to say, or how to even move. are you supposed to say anything? it's not like he’s saying anything—hell, he has a mask over his face and a hood on his head, but you KNOW it’s him. now, he’s just staring at you blankly. you’re wearing a mask, so maybe there’s a chance—

“y/n,” namjoon softly says your name, and your heart pangs against your chest. it’s a mix of heartbreak, anxiety, and all the leftover love you have for him. “i was looking for you.”

you’re so nervous, you could burst into tears. you want to hop over your desk and run into his arms and tell him how much you miss him, but also how much you hate him for hurting you so much. why do you still love a man that said such unforgivable words?

“why?” your words were a bit breathy, and you began to chuckle a bit while shaking your head. “there’s nothing left to say—unless, y’know, you’re gonna tell me all i care about is money again because i have a job.”

“i’m sorry,” namjoon sighs, then walks to you. the desk separates you, but you wish you could fall into his arms. you keep your composure all the same, though.

“that day, i was so stressed. it felt as if so many things were happening at once, and to know that a secret that i only told you got out… i felt so much betrayal all at once, i didn’t want to hear you out. if i’m being completely vulnerable, i wanted to go cry,” he let out a small chuckle.

looking at you, your face was completely unreadable. it’s like you were thinking of so many things, but also of nothing at the same time. was he doing well? he doesn’t know. he’s just going with what he feels in his heart.

“in my heart, i knew i should’ve ran back to you and apologized; in my heart, i knew i should’ve heard every single word you said, because you would never lie to me,” namjoon balls his hands into a fists, then looks at you in the eyes, “so i’m sorry it took so long for me to realize that i was wrong.”

the store was tense, and all you could hear is the music playing so softly in the background as you stare at him. he’s trying to read your expression, to see if there’s any bit of leftover love in your eyes, but it just feels cold.

after a minute, you begin to laugh. it’s a full laughing attack, actually, and namjoon just stares. his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, because he’s not stupid—he knows this means he’s fucked up.

“what, did you think was a kdrama, namjoon? did you think i was going to hear that apology, jump into your arms, and say, ‘oppa, never hurt me ever again!’ or something?” you say these words while still laughing, and namjoon is still stunned. “what happened for you to come up here and say this to me? based on your new change in personality with… hating poor people and all, i can’t imagine you just woke up one day and did it.”

“we found who actually did it. it was our stylist, sooyoung.”

“so that’s what it took for you to finally realize i was innocent? instead of thinking back ro everything you said to me and how hurt i was, it took them finding out the real person behind the crime for you to realize i was telling the truth?”

you slam your hand on the desk, and your body is trembling. you’re on an adrenaline rush, but you’re also sad, scared, and angry. namjoon notices this and places his hand on yours, like he always used to.

“y/n, you’re shaking, please ca—“

“i don’t give a fuck, namjoon,” you yell, and namjoon is completely frozen. “i’ve known you since you were a trainee, and, yet, you still thought that i was some… freaky gold digger that would sell her friends out for money. do you know how much that hurts? to know that you think i have the potential to be like that?”

namjoon’s eyes begin to tear up, while your eyes have already overflown. your cheeks are entirely red, and you let out a choked sob. your head drops, and you let out a dry chuckle.

“for over a decade, i have been nothing but loyal and true to you; yet, it takes a full-blown investigation for you to realize how you did me wrong,” you then look up at him with no sympathy in your body. “it’s my turn to tell you to get out, namjoon. and, for your sake, never come back. i never want to see you again.”

he hesitates to walk away, and you’re staring at him, emotionless.

“what, are you deaf? get out.”

namjoon finally leaves, walking quickly towards his car, and you fall to your knees. you’re on the cold floor, shaking and crying, as you realize your life will never be the same ever again.

[aeligsido]

[WM — September 2024] Prompt 6 — Time-Turner.

Rating: G.

TW: none.

Characters: Remus Lupin, Seren Lupin (OC), Mary Macdonald, Sirius Black (in the haunting-the-narrative kind of way).

Additional Tags: actor Sirius Black; celebrity Sirius Black; trans Remus Lupin; past trans male pregnancy; Mary and Peter are great friends I just need to say it; modern au; actress Seren Lupin but she’s just starting; Seren as a wolfstar baby except Sirius doesn’t know she’s his (or Remus’s for that matter).

Summary: Seren Lupin gets the lead role for upcoming coming-of-age movie Time-Turner.

Words count: 975.

A/N: Heya! I dropped this au in @impishtubist askbox some time ago and since it refused to leave my brain I'm now forced to write about it idk. I’ll write Sirius and Remus’ first meeting (in twelve years) for a later microfic I think lmao. Hope you like it! 💕

@wolfstarmicrofic

read on ao3.

-

Remus is worrying himself sick, pacing alone in the kitchen, opening and closing the fridge to make sure the cake is still here, getting the glasses out, putting them back in, starting making tea, forgetting it halfway through the process. He should have joined them after work, but he was too stressed and too scared of somehow destroying Seren’s chances.

It’s her last audition today. Some sort of chemistry test? To see if she gets along with the other actors? It all made sense when she was excitedly telling him about it yesterday again, but it’s like his brain is mush now.

The door opens, cutting him down from his own spiral, and Remus perks up, more stressed out by the whole affair than his daughter ever was.

“Dad! Dad! I got it!”

Seren appears in the kitchen, grinning like the little gremlin she is, teeth out and her brown curls slipping free from the careful braid Mary pushed them into this morning. Her eyes, a circle of dark brown cascading into a warm grey, are shining with delight and joy, and Remus finds himself breathless with love — just like almost twelve years ago, when they put this small, red, squealing baby on his chest with a congratulation.

His daughter jumps into his arms and he laughs in tandem with her. “That’s amazing! I knew you could do it!” He lets her free, just enough to put his hands on her cheeks and look at her in the eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

She beams with the force of a thousand suns.

“Thanks! It was so cool, and, oh, you’ll never guess who’s gonna play my dad in the film! And Mister Dumbledore said that we could get a TV show too!”

Albus Dumbledore, one of the most acclaimed film directors still alive, with so many successes behind him — yet so eccentric you could never guess what he will go for next. After a blockbuster about a young crowds of vigilantes saving their world from tyranny, a rather depressing story about a young orphan in the middle of WWII becoming the oppressor, and a passionate but tragic gay romance at the end of the 19th century, a coming-of-age children story is right on par for the course. Time-Turner, as it’s called, will follow a young girl — played by Seren, his own daughter! — discovering her time travel power, while dealing with her mother’s recent demise.

Which makes the father of the heroine the other lead of the film, and someone Seren will have to spend a lot of time with. Remus hopes he’s a good person. Someone nice, who wouldn’t be put-out by her unlimited energy and her never-ending supply of questions.

“So?” he asks as Seren stops talking to take a breath. “Who will play your dad?”

She grins, more excited even than before. She has always looked more like him, in general, with more elegance in her traits and grace in her body than he ever possessed. But like that — oh, like that, she looks just like…

“Sirius Black!” she yells, bouncing on her feet, and she can’t help but do a little, victorious dance.

“That’s great,” he says, croaks out more than anything, and smiles as wide as he can, drowning the drumming of his heart and fear as much as he can. “Why don’t you call your grandparents to tell them the news?” He checks the time. “And your uncle Peter? He should be out of work by now.”

Seren nods and babbles some more and disappears toward her room. Mary, who was standing silently near the door the whole time, finally comes around.

Remus starts busying himself with tea. It’s easier than thinking through his rising panic.

“So,” says Mary, because of course she cannot not say anything. For a brief second, Remus wishes Peter had been the one disponible today — he would have judged silently but not said anything, him. “You never told us Sirius Black is Seren’s father.”

He groans. His face hits the table and he considers staying here forever.

“No one knows,” he finally mumbles. “How did you even guess?”

“He was here today.” She ponders her words an instant. “They’re a lot alike.”

“But he doesn’t—” He stops himself, but Mary has known him since they were kids. She can read him too easily.

“I don't think he does.”

Remus sighs. It’s not ideal; it was already not great when Sirius Black was Seren’s idol, but it will be worse now that they’re in contact. Now that he will be in her life.

“Do I ask how it happened, since you didn’t tell me at the time, or are we doing that later when you can get drunk?”

“Second option,” Remus immediately answers. He can still remember, after all those years, how Sirius kissed him like he was important, the warmth of his hands on his body, the softness of his hair— But they had basically been strangers to each other, several hook-ups to escape boring parties resulting in Remus's panic at his sudden pregnancy and a total loss of contact. And now— Now he has so much to lose.

“I’ll call Peter,” Mary nods sagely. Then, after a beat of silence, “it will come out at some point, you know.”

“I doubt it,” he mutters, prays. “It’s not like he’ll remember me, anyway.”

How could an acclaimed actor, known all around the world, remember a random waiter he slept with twelve years ago? Remus didn’t impact his life the way Sirius impacted his. He’ll never regret it, of course — Seren is the most precious thing in his life, and all the moments preceding her existence were pretty great too — but it's not like Sirius would want to have anything to do with them, anyway.

Remus can at least try to speak it into existence.

[euijoosorangeslice]

Breeding Kink Nicho and Trying to Give You His Baby.

Can’t stop thinking about having my face pressed into a pillow as Nicholas absolutely destroys me from behind. He can pull my hair any which way and I’ll thank him.

“Fuck, take this dick like a good girl.” He groaned, pounding violently into your hole. You winced, arching farther into his hot touch. “Yes! Fuck- Such a good girl for you Nicho-“ He grabbed your ass, rocking his hips rhythmically. He spanked you, moaning at the gush of slick from between your legs.

“You like that, don’t you? Like being hit and yelled at like a disrespectful little bitch.” He put a hard thrust behind his words, making you cry. “Yes! Please, Nicholas. Treat me like your bitch.” He chuckled at how brain dead you went, speeding up his pace. “I’m gonna put a baby in you, and you’re gonna be a good girl and take it, okay?”

You hastily nodded, gulping the lump in your throat and panting violently. “Fuck! O-oh my god give me your babies please!” He slapped your ass one last time, clutching to your waist and bringing your hips to his base. “Mm, gonna empty my load in your womb. Fuck my babies into your tight little cunt.” He grumbled, kissing your neck from above.

He came, exploding inside of your walls as you clenched against him. You drained him from every last drop, moaning wildly loud. “Quiet, angel. Everyone’s gonna hear you.” He pulled out, pushing any cum that oozed out back inside. He wiped you up, making you feel cleaner.

You two split after he finished cleaning you, immediately dozing off.

-

The next morning, you decided just to take a pregnancy test for good measure. And sure as fucking enough, it was positive. After wiping the quick tears from your eyes, you walked into his bedroom wearing his shirt and some panties. “Nicho?” You whispered, him still asleep. “Nicholas?” Yet again, no response. “Wang Yixiang! You shouted, making him jolt awake.

“What- huh? What did I do wrong?” He grumbled, wiping the crust from his eyes. “Well, Nico…I’m carrying your baby.” You whispered, him staring at you blankly. Suddenly, it clicked in his head. “YOU’RE PREGNANT?!” He screamed, making you shush him. “Great, now every single one of your members know.” You groaned, flicking his forehead.

Taki burst through the door, a shock stricken face displayed. “You got her PREGNANT? I’m gonna go get Euijoo and Fuma kun, and Kei and-“ Nicho stood up, pressing a finger against his lips. “You better not tell anyone. Or I will kill you, got it?” He threatened, Taki’s eyes widening. “Got it.”

[v3nusxsky]

Have you heard the audio of Gwendoline saying “I like when you talk like that. It makes me want to destroy you.” ?

If possible could we get a Larissa x reader featuring this delicious quote? (I’m so gay for her)

If not feel no pressure to write it :) i <3 ur work sm

Talk dirty to me 18+

*Authors note ~ don't we all love this quote? And I'm so in love with this idea so I'm glad I had the opportunity to write it*

Trigger warnings~ mommy kink, dirty talk, dom l sub r toys oral fingering binding humiliation if you squint

Prompt~see ask^^^

+

tumblr anon~ Hello :) i love your work!! I have a larissa x reader request, it's nothing specific, just that reader can cum just by eating larissa out or the other way around, whatever is more comfortable with you Have a great day!

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

You'd been teasing Larissa all morning, you love your wife and with her looking so beautiful all the damn time made it hard to focus on your job. Luckily, you were just Nevermore's librarian which meant you were able to be on your phone more often than your wife. Most of the time you could be found curled up with a book, your ability of being a seer was particularly useful but incredibly stressful, you always found comfort in the stories the books provide.

Your phone vibrated next to you and you couldn't help the smirk that took hold of your lips. "I like when you talk like that. Makes me want to destroy you. Mommy is gonna make sure her dirty girl won't be able to do anything but plead with me to stop" holy fuck she was going to kill you. You quickly sent off another flirty message goading her into what was looking to be an enjoyable evening for you both.

You were getting to your favourite part of your book when you saw Larissa seemingly swapping and changing her course of action, seemingly that she wanted to keep you guessing, a small sigh left you, you're wife knew just how to get around your ability but you knew whatever's happened next you were safe.

"Hey you" Larissa murmured gaining your attention and a beautiful blush spreading across your cheeks. "Hi baby" you murmured marking your page and closing the book. A sweet kiss was shared as Larissa brought her hands to your hips to tug you closer to her body. "God I've missed you all day and those texts, you know you can't leave me all needy for the rest of the day right?" She murmured kissing your neck, sucking the pulse point into her ruby red lips. "Mmm Ris, room?" You murmured happily leaning into the older woman. "We may, but only if you say my name" she teased her hands now moving to palm your breasts through the clothing there. "Ris?" A nip to your collarbone indicated the wrong answer was given. "Mommy" you whined causing the shapeshifter to scoop you up bridal style and carry you to the bedroom.

It was rare you and your wife snuck off during work hours but when you did there was always a good reason and you were never found out. And even if you were, your wife is the boss so what would anyone be able to do? Nothing was the simple answer. You were immediately placed on the centre of the bed as your clothing began to be torn off your body. Your hands began pawing at your wife's clothing in a blind need to feel her soft silky skin.

You lay bare in front of your wife while she remained in her underwear happily laying kisses all over you. "Mommy" you whined squirming underneath her as teased you, spewing dirty words and thoughts of all the things she could be doing to destroy her princess. "Mommy has a good mind to go find her box of toys and pull out mommy's favourite one and then devour you till you're begging me to stop. Bet your whorish cunt would squirt all over the sheets just for mommy" she purred before doing exactly that.

After securing what she truly wanted she headed back to the bed and immediately began to bind your arms and legs to the bed frame. "Colour?" She murmured as you tested the bonds. "Green" you whimpered watching your wife now inserting her favourite dildo that would vibrate to stimulate her clit while letting her feel full. "Oh god so hot" you whimpered watching her set the pattern she wanted before throwing the phone else where. At least you wouldn't have to worry about finding a remote later.

The moment her mouth latched onto your clit you swore you were in heaven. Larissa knew just how much you enjoyed her mouth's attention, so any time she could she would put her mouth to work for your own pleasure. She knew that you could cum with just this simple act and that your orgasms were more intense this way. You always tasted delicious and she would happily lap up your slick and live between your beautiful thighs. Hell, Larissa never wanted to leave from her position.

You lost count how many times she threw you over the edge with her skilled tongue, all you could do is whine and mewl for her. A string of "fuck" "god" and "mommy" was looped around in between moans. You could feel the older woman's grin against your sensitive folds. "Mommy no more" you panted struggling against the restraints, "oh god mommy I'm gonna pee" you whined. Only then were you given your wife's long slender fingers into your tight fluttering walls. "Pretty baby you won't pee I promise, trust me baby, let go for mommy" she murmured not even bothering to wipe her chin free of your arousal.

You did just that, the sensations overwhelming you as white hot pleasure cursed through your veins. You squirted for the blonde, drenching the sheets before passing out. A first for you but Larissa helped your body back from the unimaginable high, then she undid the restraints to come and hold your sweat soaked body to hers. "You did so so good for me, so proud princess" she murmured stroking your cheek watching as you began to rouse again, "so good for me princess, mommys so proud of you." "What happened " you mumbled seemingly out of it. "You squirted baby then knocked out for a little, it's okay you're safe and I'm gonna look after you princess" she murmured kissing your head, "mommy you didn't?" "Oh you poor princess, mommy came dont you worry, how about a bath?" To which you nodded and allowed Larissa to run it and carry you into the warm water.

Word count~ 1131

[coweye]

Commitment Issues - rewrite (part 2/2)

Pairing: Benny Miller x Reader

Summary: When you try and take your friends with benefits relationship to the next level, Benny’s response isn’t quite what you were expecting.

Warning: Explicit.

PREVIOUS PART ✨

14th February 2022 - 26 Weeks Pregnant. 

“Push it in, Ben!” 

“There’s nothing to push - It’s in all the way!” 

“Seriously, Miller?!”

“You wanna do it?!” Benny huffed, holding out the extendable paint roller in hand as he tried to force the two pieces of the black shaft of the plastic pole together. 

“Stop pushing it so hard! You’re gonna break -” A harsh crack of plastic giving way sounded as Ben’s frustration crescendoed. “-It.” 

A sigh escaped you at the expense of the man who would be the father of your child as he threw the two pieces of the roller to the ground in frustration, ranting under his breath about it being a piece of crap. 

Neither one of you spoke for a moment, both still processing the loss of the specialist equipment that would allow you to reach the ridiculously high ceilings in your new bedroom. 

“Well… that was clearly your fault.” Benny snarked only half serious, as he leant back against the wall with a sigh and took a swig of his Yoohoo in defeat.  

The usual cooling beer was nowhere to be seen as alcohol was strictly off of the menu for the Miller-Y/L/N household in an unexpected yet hugely appreciated show of support from Benjamin. 

You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes traced the lines of his strong throat as he swallowed - after all, being considerate was sexy.

“In what fucking world was that my fault? - you’re the one that hulked it!” You scoffed. 

Benny advanced forward, a hand on his hip in faux annoyance, to where you lounged in a camping chair on the opposite side of the room, overseeing the painting operation. He snatched the untouched instructions from where they had been sandwiched between the arm of the chair and the side of your thigh. You tried not to focus on the clenching of your southern regions as his warm palm grazed the meat of your thigh. 

“Y/N! Seriously? Dude! It says goddamn twist!” Your brain scrambled for a defense but came up empty. 

How could you explain that your hormone addled brain had been too preoccupied appreciating the way his t-shirt strained against the muscle of his bicep as he tried to force the mismatched pieces together with sheer strength. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure what size that man was buying but for the sake of your sanity you were this close to recommending he size-up. 

“Oh…” 

Benny simply shook his head with a snort and folded the thin instruction manual back up before he bopped your forehead with it. 

“I’ll see if Frankie has a ladder in his truck.” He turned on his heel with a grin to go find Catfish, who was no doubt painting or reassembling furniture in one of the rooms in your new home. 

It had been two months since the Christmas debacle and you were currently trying to find your sea legs in this unforgiving ocean that was your life. 

It was a delicate process, this co-parenting, but the two of you were nailing it.

Together you had decided to get a house near a good school that would become the neutral ground; the two of you were starting over for the sake of your daughter, so you’d agreed to go into this without any ugly preconceptions and all resentment put aside. 

Moving in together was a huge decision that had taken weeks to reach.

Every step of the way you had been terrified that at any moment Benny would turn heel and flee, though his resolve remained strong, in fact he was the one who had suggested it. 

I know! 

Mr I’m-not-looking-for-anything-serious-right-now, suggested you move and play house.

Well not quite, as the two of you had yet to discuss that side of your friendship. 

There was a ceasefire in action; a mutually beneficial truce that was admittedly fractured, neither one of you was brave enough to test the bounds and risk destroying the delicate ecosystem that had been created in the suburbs. This little girl was all that mattered.

The two of you had fallen back into step of your old friendship, only with significantly more longing looks, lingering touches and awkward silences… but sure, for the most part, totally nailing it.  

Who were you kidding? 

You were longing for his touch, every time he stroked your stomach and sang to his daughter, every time he drank a can of coke instead of a beer you were positively quaking with desire. 

Your hormones didn’t help but they couldn’t be entirely blamed. 

It felt like your life was coming together, like you could be a real family in this house. 

Hell, you could get rid of the other of the bedroom and have a nursery and wake up every morning to Benny peppering your neck with kisses as he breached your walls with slow sleepy morning sex. 

Benny was getting his shit together. He was almost unrecognizable as the man who had let you down nearly three months ago. 

He had accepted a job at the gym as a personal trainer - part-time, of course - which meant he had a steadier income to supplement his fights. 

Benny had become … consistent. 

He answered his phone when you needed him, he was less prone to flying off of the handle and he hadn’t run away from you in a 7/11 car park in like three whole months.

Hell, he had even started attending some sessions down at the VA with Will! Honestly - Fatherhood suited him. It was like the responsibility had given him something he’d been missing since returning home.

You also hadn’t been able to help noticing a deficit in women, perhaps it was naive to assume when you’d only lived together for the better part of an afternoon that you knew his business. Maybe it was blind hope, but the two of you had moments. 

Fleeting ones, but moments nonetheless!

Ones where he’d laugh a little harder at your joke than it really deserved or his hugs that lingered far too long when he’d leave your apartment - you swore he smelled your hair once.

You felt like the two of you were building to something, that you could see the light at the end of the tunnel, a real future for the three of you. 

Apparently by planning out the next ten years of yours and Ben’s life together you had tempted fate.

Your attention was drawn quite innocently to his phone which was nestled in the mesh cup holder of your camping chair for safekeeping whilst he painted. 

You’d swear in a court of law that you only glanced at the screen because you thought it was your own, however the message that flashed on the screen snuffed out the light in your daydreams.

‘JASMINE: Are we still on for later? ’

Oh. 

Huh.

Okay.

You weren’t sure of the myriad of emotions that powered through you in quick succession. 

Hurt, jealousy, anger; those were the easiest to pick out.

Logically, you had no claim to the man, you’d agreed to co-parent, nothing more. But the betrayal of the life that could’ve been was hard to stomach.

Unable to stop and not entirely sure it was your hormones at fault, your throat clenched and your eyes began watering. 

It was stupid, to be so broken up over what was essentially eye contact and accidental touches but, there it was. 

When Benny rounded the corner carrying a ladder to find your streaming eyes he unceremoniously laid it against the wall and fell to his knees before you.

“Darlin’ you thinking about the life insurance advert again?” one hand cradled your jaw whilst the other entwined your fingers with his as you fought every urge to pull away. “You know they’re just actors.” 

Just a few moments ago attention like this would’ve killed you dead, but now, it didn’t mean anything; he was your friend. 

He cared for you and your daughter, that’s all it was. 

You had talked the talk, now it was time to walk the walk. 

You’d be the best goddamn mother this kid could ask for and that would be enough, it had to be.

16th March 2022 -  31 weeks pregnant

Three months.

Three months of being treated like an invalid.

You weren’t allowed to lift anything deemed too heavy, you weren’t allowed to workout and god forbid you tried to put together some of the furniture for the nursery alone - hell, you were barely allowed to go to work. 

At Val’s misplaced insistence you’d been transferred to desk duty.

You may be thinking, gee, but Y/N what exactly does a school nurse on desk duty do? 

Well, she sits on her newly fat ass all day and logs every record of every menial accident to happen in this miserable place since 1965. 

Yup, that’s every single scraped knee or nose bleed in the past sixty years. 

You weren’t even half way through the 80’s after three whole weeks of this hell. 

The doctor had recommended taking it easy but you didn’t know if you had another two months like this left in you. 

Not to mention the Godforsaken hormones. 

They had been wreaking havoc ever since your second trimester, but somehow as the months progressed, they had doubled down as an apparent non-stop ache had taken up permanent residence between your thighs.

This kid was slowly killing you.

The ever present resentment flared as Val returned with your lemonade instead of an icy beer, though you accepted with thanks as the two of you relaxed on your new porch swing in your back garden. 

The sun had begun to set as the boys were up wing using the fancy new BBQ grill; a generous house-warming gift from the now absent Santiago.

The trio chuckled loudly at a remark you couldn’t quite catch from Catfish. Departing Will had made a retort as he came to join the two of you, a bowl of barbecued corn in hand as a peace offering. 

You’re somehow annoyed at Benny’s thoughtful anticipation of your never ending hunger. Logic was an old friend these days, hell, he was a penpal at this point.

All the same you took the corn with a grateful smile, taking a large bite of the buttery goodness as Ironhead sat with a groan as he made himself comfortable in the folding camp chair to your right.

“So, how’s motherhood treating ya?” Will questioned with a deep chuckle at the filthy look you threw his way. 

“It fuckin’ sucks” You huffed inbetween bites of corn.

“Preach that shit.” Val joked as she raised her glass in toast.

“I’m hungry all the time, everything’s swollen and beer! - I miss beer so much. I have a headache every other day and Will - I’m so sorry, but everything turns me on.” Will - to his credit merely snorted into his beer at your embarrassing monologue. “Val, I swear, I saw Frankie licking his fingers after chips earlier and I almost jumped him.” 

Val cackled at your confession. “Oh hon, you’re at the halfway point - a light breeze angled the right way will do that to you!”

“I can do something about one of those things… The food Y/N. The food.” Will held the bowl of corn up in surrender, looking terrified for a moment when your head had perked up at the implication. 

“What about Benny? Surely he’d be willing to… help you?” Val waggled her eyebrows, completely avoiding eye contact with Will as she conspired about his brothers sex life. 

You paused your nibbling on the near bare husk and placed it in the bowl Will currently gripped in defense of his virtue. 

He took a swig of his beer pretending to not be interested in your conversation, though you knew full well that man was the biggest gossip you knew, he was as eager for an update as Val. 

“Well, I asked him for some… relief but someone thinks that will open up a can of worms.” You grouch, your voice raised an octave or two into a distinctively whiney pitch as you imitate the father of your child. Will, in his defense, did attempt to hide his smirk though there was definitely some pride mixed in at the mention of his brother’s restraint. You take a swig of your lemonade before continuing. “He doesn’t think we should smash just because of my hormones… might regret it after or some shit.”  

“… how can I possibly resist when she calls it ‘smashing’?” Benny questioned his own voice laced with sarcasm, as he joined the new trio with Catfish and baby Catfish on his heels both carrying plates of delicious food. 

“It’s beyond me.” Val chuckled in an attempt to diffuse, before she turned her gaze towards her child who was head of burger bun distribution. “One for your tia, please baby.”

Mariana grabbed you a plate and began preparing you a burger, dousing it in what you’d consider a confusing combo of far too little cheese and way too much ketchup, but you were eternally ravenous and not above eating it. 

“Mmmh… best burger maker ever! Thank you, beautiful.” You groan to the little girl as she grins proudly to her Dad who has joined you and Val on the swing. 

As she goes about her business filling both of her uncles plates you can’t help the pang of jealousy that fills your heart as you catch the couple in your peripheral.

Frankie had his arm wrapped around Val’s shoulder as she nestled her face into his neck. 

“Te extrañé, Cariño” She whispers, kissing him sweetly. 

Frankie chuckles at her words and takes her hand in his much larger one before placing a kiss on the back of it. He doesn’t relinquish his hold as everyone begins talking once again.It was simply a sweet interaction between a married couple, you can’t quite put a finger on why it makes your heart ache.

Your eyes caught Benny’s. His grin widened as you locked eyes before he noticed the pinch of flesh between your brows. 

The silent conversation began as Ben squinted in question before you managed to school your features and nod his way to let him know you’re fine. 

He isn’t sold, you can tell that from the glances he threw your way for the ten minutes that followed. 

That message from the elusive Jasmine, still weighing heavy on your heart almost a month later.

There were days, like the one where you propositioned him that you’re happy to look past it, where the life you would build together would outlast anything, but then there are days when you hate him for it.

The ones where you didn’t trust him or yourself. 

You’d said goodbye to logic long ago - Emotion reigned here and she could be a cruel bitch when she wanted to be. 

20th April 2022 - 36 weeks 

“Step… step.. now to the left-”

“Oof!” You grunted as your nose met something that felt suspiciously like drywall.

“Your other left, sweetie.” Val corrected kindly, you couldn’t be sure as the blindfold currently compromised your vision but the distinct lilt that usually accompanied a smile filled her voice. 

Grunting you followed her instruction as her palm gripped yours, leading you another three paces.

If you were a betting woman you’d place good money that you were in Will’s house. The pleasant albeit overpowering scent of Teakwood and Tobacco made bile rise in the back of your throat, as it had done ever since the tiny squatter had taken up residence in your womb. 

“Right there, perfect… take it off!” Val instructed as she released your hand.

Hesitantly your own fingers rose, not quite sure what to expect - ‘A surprise’ was a broad construct after all. 

Unfortunately, you were pretty sure you knew what the surprise was - a puppy. 

Benny had been uncharacteristically absent all week and when he’d returned one afternoon after an ‘errand’, he’d shown you an instagram of a golden retriever named Bill, gushing over its cuteness. 

Whilst you could surely appreciate the cuteness, the question of what the hell were a couple with a new baby on the way were supposed to do with a godforsaken puppy weighed heavy on your mind. 

Though, when Val told you of your surprise you had simply resigned yourself to burn that bridge when you got to it.

Finally, you granted your eyes freedom and what was before them made them well of their own accord. 

In the place of a golden retriever puppy was every single person you loved in this world, stood before you with party hats and grins. 

“Surprise!” They cheered in unison. 

Benny stood in the middle of the crowd smiling, you had unconsciously searched him out before you began your scan of the lounge in Will’s home. The entirety of the bottom floor of Ironheads house had been outfitted in puce pink banners and balloons. ‘It’s a girl’ and ‘you go mama’ were the core slogans imprinted on the decorations.

The huge Y/F cake sat in the center of the buffet platter, though not to be outdone, the plates on the platter were filled with every last one of your cravings from the past eight months.  About 20 McDonald’s Double Cheeseburgers, peaches, corn, pickles, oreos and cookies - so many different varieties of cookies - you name it, it was there. 

Finally your breaking point came when your eyes caught your Mother and Father on the iPad. 

They had been facetimed from Y/H/T. 

Despite being unable to make it, Benny had made sure that they were included, of course he had. 

The pièce de résistance however, was the man currently holding the iPad up. 

Santiago Garcia; you hadn’t expected to see your flighty best friend until long after your baby was here.

It was all too much, the hormones, the lack of sleep, the thoughtfulness of the father of your child. 

You crumbled into tears and ugly tears at that. 

Thickly, they streamed down your cheeks. You looked up through the wall of hot salt water to find Benny in front of you cradling your jaw, he had gotten to you before even Val who had been at your side. 

“Oh, Babe… I’m sorry, is this not right?” Benny rambles, his nerves getting the better of him. His eyes are frantic as they beg for your forgiveness. “I’m still not completely sure what a baby shower is… we can redo it next-” 

You shut him up with a hug, one of those all encompassing ones which fix everything without words. All of the appreciation and unspoken feelings you had for the man went into this. 

Noone had ever done anything remotely close to this for you before.

Every inch of this party was perfect, because every aspect spoke about the details of your life he’d taken in and memorized. 

At that thought the tears somehow got worse. You were blubbering into his cream jumper, the one you had bought him for his birthday, that alone fueled the wail the left your chest. 

After a moment or two he pulled back, wiping under your eyes with napkins Catfish had discreetly shoved into his hand behind your back. 

“Good tears?”

With a nod and a snotty sniff you confirm. “Good tears.”

Finally you calm down enough for Benny to take your hand in his and refuse to relinquish his hold on it as you greet everyone. Your friends from work, Mr and Mrs Miller, of course - the Morales family and Santi.

Finally dropping his hold on you Ben watches as you embrace your best friend.

“Gordita! You’re sooo big now!” He laughed lifting you from the ground,  you didn’t need to see to know Ben would be cringing in fear for both you and your child. 

“Excuse me, la narizota?” You huffed once he had placed you back on the ground. His answering chuckle thundered throughout the room as he cradled his nose with narrowed eyes.

“It’s not that big.”

“Sure, and I’m not fat…” You smirk, looking down at your protruding belly and raising your eyebrows.

“La puta.” His eyes are narrowed and his voice low but it lacks any real venom.

“I missed you, Hermano.” The two of you embrace once more and even though Santi doesn’t say the words, the kiss on your forehead tells you all you need to know. 

“You’re gonna be a mama!” His voice is cheery as he pulls away before wrapping Ben in his own crushing hug.“And you Benjamin! You’re gonna be a papa!” 

The two men part with a manly pat on the back and Ben is back at your side wrapping a protective arm around your lower back. You lean into his hold, comforted by his familiar cologne and warm jumper. 

“What’s the little lady’s name gonna be?”

“We’re not telling.” Ben says quickly.

“It’s a surprise!” You say at the same time. “Some people are opinionated, and we want the name to be our choice.”

“Really?!” You hear from behind.

Seated on the couch Will leans an arm over the back of the sofa, twisting his torso to defend himself. “Just because I didn’t like the name Daisy?” Jen shoved his shoulder with narrowed eyes before he continued. “What?! It sounded like a damn cow…”

Wait… Jen? Jen was back? … holy shit she was brave returning after what had to be the awkwardest night of your life thus far.  Had you really been that self obsessed for the past four months that you hadn’t realized Will had reignited that old flame? 

You felt a spark of guilt, yet your respect for the woman overcame that as you apologized profusely for the whole awkward affair, with the promise that you’d give her a signal if anything was to break out tonight.

Jen had taken this in good humor and congratulated you on the baby, she had then forced Will to surrender their place on the sofa so that you could sit beside Mrs Miller comfortably with the 7 pound watermelon permanently strapped to your midsection. 

You liked her.

You hadn’t realized that your mother and Ben’s were currently deep in conversation, something about staying at their house when she came up for the birth, there was some vague planning about thanksgiving occurring that you weren’t privy to - though you were sure you’d get looped in eventually, or at least you hoped you would. 

Benny’s mother was a gorgeous woman.

Though you’d expected nothing less, after all both her sons looked like they were created in a lab.  Her boys took after her in their coloring and her sharp features, in her youth you had no doubt she would’ve intimidated you despite her kind nature.

Grinning, she turned to you, before she raised her glasses from the gold string around her neck. She expertly flipped the camera after a moment or two on the iPad to show you off to your mother.

“Look Y/M/N, she’s absolutely glowing!” Mrs Miller complimented. You smile awkwardly, it has never been your strong suit taking praise, well from anyone but Benny. 

And that was a whole different kettle of fish, as the things that degenerate of a man praised you for were much more fun, but objectively not things one should be considering in the company of his mother. 

“Thank you.” You settle for instead.

You speak to the duo for a while, talking about the nursery, baby clothes and the bag you’ve packed for the hospital. That seemed enough to quell their need for information before the two of them begin gossiping.

These two women had yet to meet one another and yet, from what you’d heard, they were now thick as thieves. Phoning each other nearly every night, hell the two of them had become Facebook friends and you’re even pretty sure they meant to do it.   

Your eyes search the room for Benny as she resumes her conversation with your mother, and find his wide shoulders deep in conversation with Will and Jen. 

You’re tempted to thank the woman for birthing an adonis of a son, as she chit-chats to your mother. 

God, you’d love to rip that cable-knit jumper off of him and lick every muscle on that lean body.  

Embarrassingly your eyes must have been burning a hole through his spine as he turns for a moment to lock eyes with your own. 

You hold him in your gaze before he winks, the sonofabitch winks at you and turns back, chuckling at something one of them said.

You can’t quite come to terms with the fact your core is aching from that tiny non-interaction. 

The sex flashbacks had definitely gotten worse since you entered your third trimester. Your hormones were all over the place and it was only made so much worse as masturbation had become near impossible as maneuvering around the massive bump anchored to your front was a logistic challenge.

You had propositioned Benny more times than you could count, but somewhere along the road to fatherhood he had gained a moral fucking compass. 

He didn’t want to just have sex to have sex, he wanted it to mean something.

As neither one of you were willing to risk confessing to more than friendship, you had reached an impasse, where nobody was getting any. 

Well, You didn’t think he was getting any, atleast.

Bothered by this thought you went to stand. Went, being the operative word. 

Much like a ladybird stuck on its back you struggled to get adequate footing to propel yourself forward. 

A large tanned hand stretched out to offer you support, one you took gratefully. From above William Snr was smiling, a plate full of cake in one hand for his wife. 

“Thank you, the melon under my shirt makes things difficult.“

He chuckled at your words, reminding you so much of Benny. “She’s half Miller. It’s in her blood to be difficult.

“You’re preaching to the choir here.” You hold your hands up in surrender smiling at the man before you.

He took your seat as you turned to seek out Ben, only to find him coming towards you with two slices of cake.

He tilted his head towards the back door, where the two of you now found yourself on the porch swing, the only smidgen of privacy you’d received since arriving at the party nearly 2 hours ago. 

“How’s the day going?”

“Amazing, Ben. Thank you.” You take a bite of cake and can’t stop the moan that leaves you. Unfortunately, you don’t see the way his eyes darken at the sound and the reminders it brings him - if you had, you’d have no doubt economized on that weakness.

“I wasn’t sure a baby shower was your thing and with the no drinking I wasn’t-” You’re not used to Benny being apprehensive. Well that’s not true, those few weeks that followed the break-up had been filled with it. Rather, you’re not used to Benny being insecure in himself, he was a fighter, all that bravado and confidence came hand in hand. It was breaking your heart to see it gone. 

So, you threw all caution to the wind. You said fuck it and gambled on yourself for once in your life.

Swallowing the cake in your mouth, you leaned forward, taking his jaw in your fingers, effectively shutting up his dithering monologue and joined your lips.

He breathed out heavily through his nose in shock at your sudden movement. 

At the lack of reciprocation you began to pull away, only to be followed as he dropped his cake to the seat next to him to grab your jaw. His thumb anchored by your ear as his mouth devoured your own. 

It was six month of pent up emotions breaking through that wall of denial. His tongue slid against yours tasting vaguely of vanilla and something that was distinctly Benny. Your own tongue joined the dance, fighting for dominance before you retreated and playfully bit his lip, gaining a groan from the father of your child.

The two of you pulled apart though your foreheads remained touching, both catching your breath. Neither one of you is sure of what to say to the other. 

Finally, you go to speak, however you’re swiftly cut off by his phone and the tinkering bells of Sencha. 

“Ignore it.” He whispers, closing his eyes and catching his breath. You rub your nose against his own which makes him smile.

As you go to join your lips, once again, you are cut off. 

He huffs pulling back. “Someone better be fucking dying.”

He reaches into his back pocket for his phone and looks at the name, with a sigh before he leans forward joining your lips in one final solid kiss. 

“It’s work…I’ll be right back, don’t move, okay?” You nod in agreement, mostly because you want more kisses.

As you run your fingers across your slightly inflamed lips you wish you didn’t hear the words that made the world around you crumble.

“Hey Jaz… Yeah sure, no… I guess I can talk… I’m… not that busy…”

28th April 2022 - 37 weeks pregnant

Life playing host to the parasite that was soon to be your daughter had only gotten worse. Hard to believe, I know.

The gift that kept on giving made sure that you’d suddenly without any warning whatsoever have the overwhelming urge to vomit. 

There was no rhyme or reason to her neat new little party trick but at any given moment your stomach said nope and you bought up whatever you happened to have eaten or as the case may be; be eating at the time. 

Honestly, you weren’t a negative person by nature, but these agonizing eight months had taken it out of you. 

Hell, you were in the process of drafting an eviction notice if this kid didn’t get out of you in the next two weeks. 

Long story short, between this and the Benny situation you were not exactly the best of company, right now. 

The boys and Val had all learnt this early on and for the past eight days, you had given up all pretense of a brave face, now you were bleeding and letting everyone who would listen know about it.

When Santiago, who had decided to stay in town until the birth of your baby, suggested a stroll around the mall, you had fixed him with the stare that would have had a lesser man running back to Colombia with his tail between his legs. Until, of course, he had sweetened the deal with fried chicken, his treat and coincidentally the only meal that you had yet to regurgitate. 

So, here you found yourself with Santiago and William and a six piece bucket to yourself.

The change in company was a welcome distraction from dwelling on your non-existent love life at home with the love of your life. 

After the thorn in your side that was Jasmine, reared her ugly head at the baby shower, you had pulled back into your protective bubble of distant and cold. 

Benny, though confused about the message, received it loud and clear as he returned to the swing to find you inside and talking incredibly heatedly to Valerie. In the eight days that followed, he yet to confront you about it. Apparently old habits died hard.. 

The camaraderie that had come hand in hand with your truce had dissolved. You weren’t actively unpleasant, but you didn’t melt into his side, or nap on the couch with him anymore. 

You had established boundaries, resolving yourself to the simple philosophy of anything you wouldn’t do with Frankie, you wouldn’t do with Ben. 

It was simple… well kind of, every one of your moves was carefully calculated and exhausting.

For example, lying on the couch watching a movie with a leg rub? Acceptable. 

Frankie would do that for your swollen ankle joint, hell, he had done.

However, lying on the couch with his body sandwiched against yours as you fall asleep, the hardness of him pressed into your backside; well… that was quite clearly a no, but I digress! 

Boundaries were established and what almost was, had been completely and totally healthily avoided at all costs, creating the exact tenuous home environment you'd spent so long trying to avoid. 

So, here you found yourself in the food court, slamming some fried chicken trying desperately to forget your woes.

“She’s too clingy…” Santi huffed in between a bite of his burger, talking mostly to Will as you had yet to peak up from behind your bucket. 

“Maybe she just likes you and wants to spend time with you, god forbid someone shows interest.” You grunted irritably between bites, looking for a fight. 

Both men turned to you in surprise, the whites of their eyes visible as they feared your outburst. 

Santiago strategically paused as he searched for the right words before he began to speak again. 

“You’re right … Maybe I’m too harsh.” Pope placated as he fixed you with a look of reproach, however, that only served to enrage you further. 

He watched for your reaction as if you were an angry bear or a child throwing a tantrum. Truth be told, you weren’t strictly unlike either of those things at that precise moment. 

Your brows narrowed, ready to unload and tell him all the reasons he was a dick before a cramping pain in your bloated abdomen overwhelmed you. Your eyes clenched shut as you breathed heavily through your nose, your ringed fingers gripped at the circular table in pain. 

It was impossible for you to judge how long went by before the pain finally passed. 

You took a further second or two to even your breathing before you resumed eating, succinctly dropping the subject that had injected fire into your veins merely moments before. 

With a fry in your mouth, you glanced up to find both men watching you. 

“What the fuck?”

“Are you okay?” They questioned in unison. 

A moment passed as you swallowed your mouthful before you concisely answered your comrades. “I’m pretty sure I’m going into labor.” 

“And … you don’t think we should be actively doing something about that?” Santiago pressed, looking as if he was ready to bolt.

“Labor can take hours and I won't be able to eat once it gets going…” You shrug, picking up another piece of chicken. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Pope breathed, eyes wide before he palmed in his eye sockets in frustration, attempting to rub the stress you induced away.

Will had dragged his chair to your side, his eyes focused on his watch.

“Don’t worry so much… the book said until they're ten minutes apart … there’s no point going …  to the hospital!” You explain in between bites of greasy chicken. 

Your words do little to quell their panic as both men look as if they're ready to pull their hair out with worry. 

“I’ll ring Ben.” Santi groaned as he stood up and reached into his jacket pocket before fishing out his phone. He turned dramatically with a finger pointed in your general direction. “You get her to hurry up - I swear to god, Y/N. If you’re eating when I get back, pregnant or not, I’ll drag you to that car. You’re not having your baby in the damn food court… estúpida, obstinada…” The man continued grunting curses at your expenses as he stalked off for somewhere quiet with cell reception to call the father of your child.

The silence that extended all of three minutes was too good to be true as Will watched your face as you ate for any sign of distress. 

“Whilst giving Pope a coronary is always a good time… don’t you think we should go and get your bag and meet Ben?” Will’s voice was soft, the kind of soothing tone you’d seen him use to talk down shell shocked soldiers - it was both unassuming and laced with copious amounts of compassion. 

You’d be damned if it didn’t just piss you right off. 

With a quick shake of your head, you dropped the empty bone into the bucket with the rest of the carcasses and took a long sip of your drink. 

“I’m good here … I can meet you guys there if you like?”

The pinch in his brow was quite simply incredulous, his concern was quickly outweighing his patience. 

“If you think I’m leaving you both here, you’re insane.”

Chewing on the straw of your drink; your eyes locked with his. They were brimming with a concoction of confusion and concern, which if the clench in his jaw was anything to go by, was slowly morphing into exasperation at your lack of compliance. 

“I … just need some time.”

“Y/N. All you’ve spoken about for the past week is how you want this to be over, wish granted - she’s coming and she’s coming now.”

“That’s what he said…” You uttered half-heartedly under your breath as you broke eye contact, no longer able to face his look of bewilderment. 

On the red tray in front of you was a lemon scented wet wipe hidden among napkins and sauces, you tore open the former and gratuitously began scrubbing the grease off of your hands, actively ignoring the perplexed stare of one of your closest friends. 

“Y/N, we need to get moving… will you just stop and listen?” Will snapped finally as he grabbed the wipe from your grip as you passed over your digits for the third time. 

Your own patience had reached its end as his hand gripped your elbow, his intention to make good on Santiago’s threat and drag you out, clear and present in your mind.

The devil in question was making his way back to your table, all quick strides as he dodged the food courts clientele.

You wrenched your arm from his grip huffing in annoyance at the well meaning Miller. 

“Fine. Let's go and get my bag, maybe we can grab an iced tea on the way to the car…”

Will nodded but you knew the mother hen would never allow a diversion from the mission at hand. 

All was going well. 

You were compliant as you strode through the mall, both men flanking you like a high priority asset as you clambered into Santi’s rental truck.

Hell, you were goddamn amenable as you unlocked your front door and grabbed the hospital duffel bag from the cubby under the stairs. 

However, your cooperation waned somewhat when heading to the maternity ward as  the guys tried to wheel your chair past the hospital's Starbucks. 

Your palm, lightening fast, caught the break on the chair causing it to veer left right into Santiago’s shins.

“Ice Tea!”

“You’ve got a baby about to shoot out of your hoo-hah and you're stopping for tea?!” Santi huffed incredulously as he rubbed his shin.

“My contractions are 25 minutes apart, when they’re 15, I’ll consider joining the panicking cry baby club.” 

“Panicking baby- huh!” Santi huffed rubbing his forehead. “You are not well, Y/N/N! You’re having a baby - Go and have it and then I’ll bathe you in fucking tea!” 

“I’ll come back down and grab you one-” Will placated before Santi bent to remove the break on the chair, allowing Will to move all of two steps, before you slammed it back on, the rubber tyres screeched against the tile floor of the hospital lobby. 

“Tea. First.” You huffed much like a troublesome child. 

This time it was Will who leaned down to remove the break, having clearly decided you weren’t in your right mind.

So, you did the only thing you could; you threw your baby bag off of your lap. 

“Y/N, stop being a goddamn child!” Will huffed, you had clearly pushed him to the edge, not that it had been particularly hard. 

Ignoring him, you began to stand. They both watched on in horror as you slowly ambled your way to the end of the queue. 

Leaning against the drinks fridge, you sighed. 

Your spine was aching something awful. The poor timing of this kid resumed as a contraction wracked your body, sharper than the others, it felt longer but you had no way to be sure. 

Will was at your side the second it overcame your body.

“Twenty minutes apart, please, Y/N. Come on.”

When finally the pain dissipated, your aching back remained. You weren’t proud of the weight you were placing on Will but the floor was the only other option. 

“y/n?! … Y/N!” You heard Benny hollar before you saw him, his eyes were wild with panic as he rushed to your side. He patted his brother on the shoulder, before taking his place. “Baby, what are you doing? You need to get into bed.”

“I want… my … tea.” You huffed, breathing not yet evening out. 

“Fine, we get the tea and we go straight up. How far apart are they?”

“Twen-”

The gush of amniotic fluid leaving your body cut the older Miller off, soaking through your jeans and unfortunately onto Benny’s shoes.

“You just pissed, she just pissed!” Santi cried in disbelief, his hands an almost permanent fixture in his disheveled curls at this point. It was hard to believe this man was a pressure player.

“It's not piss, it's her waters. We need to go, I’m sorry baby, you can have all the ice tea you want when it's safe for you both.” He bent down and caught your sodden legs, picking you up in one sweep. 

If you weren��t currently covered in amniotic fluid, that story book firefighter carry would have set your loins ablaze. 

Who were you kidding? 

You were absolutely drenched in amniotic fluid and your loins were practically smoking. 

Between writhing in pain as your uterus contracted to eject a literal watermelon and lusting over your baby daddy who you had spent the last eight days practically snarling at every time he dared advance, the journey to your delivery suite had been all but a blur. 

Somehow all three men surrounded you, having coerced their way through the midwifery staff with their nefarious charm. 

“How ya’ doing champ?” Santi questioned as you huffed on the oxygen inhaler handed to you by your midwife. A thumbs up was all you could offer as you groaned through the contractions that were now give or take five minutes apart. 

“How about we use a bit of gravity?” The woman in control of the drugs questioned. A suggestion you were only more than happy to try.

Following her instructions and with minor assistance from Ben you were now on all fours, frantically inhaling the gas and air. 

“We’re going to need to clear the room, anyone who isn’t the father needs to leave.” 

You were so far gone, you didn’t care if they saw the business end of your cervix. All you knew was uncontrollable pain that wracked your body every five minutes like a sadistic egg timer. 

Ben wiped at your forehead with a damp towel as tears escaped. 

“You can do this, baby.”

“UGNGH.. It feels like I’m shitting a knife!” You cried as another contraction wracked your body. 

“Not long now, gorgeous. Then we’ll have our baby.”

“I’m not ready.” You cried burying your face in the reclined back of the bed. You couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“You are-”

“No. We’re not ready. Things were … supposed to be fixed… I promised her.”

“Wha-”

“ you stupid fucking idiot. I want to be with you; I have done for like ten years…  smitten with you from the second I heard your tone deaf ass singing that … crappy hick song on base. Ungh… And everything is so broken because I don’t want you … to just stay for the Bean, I want to be with you … because you want to be with me.” You cried, tears wracking your body as uncontrollably as the contractions.

“It’s all broken… I promised her and I fucked it all up. You … and Jaz can just live happily ever-” You cut yourself off with a low wail as another contraction wracked your body. It seemed to knock Benny out of his stupor as his hand rubbed your lower back.

It was a moment before you leveled out and remembered you were divulging your innermost thoughts but a moment ago, though you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

Bigger fish to fry, and all that.

“I adore you, even if you are the goddamn most stubborn fuckin’ idiot I’ve ever met. You're the mother of my baby, yeah. It scares the crap outta me. Caring for you. Damn near spent three months thinking up all the reasons we couldn’t be together cause it scared me so bad.” He huffed, stroking your hair. He helped you reposition on your back, as you breathed in another wave of oxygen. “I- I don’t do this. I don’t do relationships … because this feeling in my stomach when I think of you is fuckin awful. Sure I get the tingles when you smile at me or stroke my arm. But ninety-nine percent of the time, fucking nightmare, I worry if you’re happy, if you’ve eaten and now we’re adding an whole ass entire other person into this fucking clown show.”

“Gee… thanks.” You huffed in between breaths of gas and air. 

Ben chuckled as he pushed the sweat sodden hair back from your brow. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth against yours, the kiss was brief and nowhere near what was needed but it was all you could manage. 

It was enough, you thought at that moment.

The promise, that everything wasn’t lost, there was hope ahead, it carried you through.

Life in the past 48 hours had been… surreal. 

You had confessed your feelings for your baby daddy and then found out that he reciprocated those feelings all before doing the equivalent of pushing a grape out of your nostril.

A baby.

A gorgeous baby girl. 

Gorgeous didn’t quite cover it, yet finding a word that described the transcendent beauty of the soul you’d brought forth into this world escaped you, as did a name for the said beauty. 

For the time being the angel made human was currently known as TBD or more affectionately Tee. The two of you had been trying out names but a new baby and totally requited feelings didn't automatically cancel out a life-time of bickering. 

Your problem was there wasn’t a name you’d heard that actually sounded like her and Ben, god love him, had a habit of picking names from a nursing homes register; Ethel, Millicent, Edith - I could go on.

He liked old fashioned names, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though it didn’t lend itself to easy compromise. 

So, Tee, she remained with test names thrown in sporadically with hopes that a winner would stick, ideally before her 18th Birthday.  

Whilst the name vetoing annoyed the hell out of you there wasn’t any real friction. The name discussion never became heated, if a name was vetoed you moved on to the next accepting the decision of the other person. 

It was a healthy co-parenting dream. 

Despite the pending conversation that loomed over you both, things weren’t awkward - quite simply because you didn’t have the time for it to be!

Mia (Nah) didn’t leave you much time for it. 

Whilst she was a dream for sleeping, the time afforded to you both was spent sleeping or preparing the house for her awakening. She was beautiful, but exhausting - a lot like her father.

So it only made sense that when you got your first minute of peace,  after a long nap, now in your own bed and fresh pajamas; that the innermost workings of your heart would come to the surface. 

To the backing track of Modern Family, you planned and plotted your conversation word for word. Time allowed for dramatic pauses and longing gazes were of course included. When you began planning his lines you realized enough was enough and rose from your bed. 

Sure, after looking in the mirror, you’d had better days for your self confidence - ones where you weren’t rocking an adult nappy. But beggars couldn't be choosers and if you let it run in circles anymore you were afraid your brain would just combust.

There was a huge part of you that was excited after all this was years in the making, but then that small, human part of you was screaming at you to temper your expectations. 

How often does someone get everything they want? When did your life become a fairy tale? 

You didn’t think Benny would flat out turn you down, but what if he couldn’t live up to what had been in your head. 

For the first time, in a long time, you decided to ignore your brain - self preservation be damned. 

With a turn on your heel in a matching silk pajama set and a goddamn adult nappy you proudly began your descent down the stairs. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for when you rounded the corner. 

There on the sofa he lay, utterly shirtless. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him like this, in fact you’d actively avoided his fights after you had ‘broken up’ for this very reason because one look at those rippling shoulders would’ve tanked any remaining resolve or feminism left in your body. 

It would also be remiss to add that your daughter lay on his chest for what you assume was skin-to-skin time. Somehow, it both melted your heart and stoked a fire within you - having a child was strange. Since when was being a good Father a kink for you? 

“Pssst.” You whispered under your breath, trying to get his attention without waking the bean. It took another two tries before he finally looked up confused and then fixed you with that beaming smile.

“Well… good mornin’, Mama.” His voice was deep from lack of use and he looked utterly exhausted yet his smile was as big as ever.

You couldn’t help your own grin at his words as you pressed your attack and kneeled at his side. For a moment your hand stroked at the valley of her spine, before your palm came to rest on his bare shoulder.

How the hell could two people so clueless make something so absolutely perfect?

After a moment or two spent lost in pure adoration you lifted your gaze to Ben. His eyes hadn’t left your face since he became aware of your presence. 

You couldn’t help it.

Now was the time for words not for actions that had made this hole you were currently buried in, and yet …

You let yourself get lost in those eyes and pressed your lips against his. 

It was soft. 

Softer than anything the two of you had ever known. 

Neither one of you pushed for more, you simply indulged in the closeness that had been hard won to come so easily. The hand not cradling your daughter to his chest, rose to hug your cheek as you parted. 

“Where did that come from?”

“I’ve been meaning to do it since the hospital, but the nap helped me put my ducks in a row, I guess.”

Benny rose into a sitting position, slowly, mindful of the sleeping infant on his chest. 

He laid her in the moses basket at the foot of the sofa and pressed the white noise machine. Mozart began playing softly, lulling her into a deeper sleep.

Finally, Benny turned back to you, his eyes serious. “I wasn’t sure if you regretted saying what you did… if it was the heat of the moment… y’know the fear.”

You contemplated for a single moment.

“I meant every word.”

The problem with you and Benn had always been that you both approached your relationship with one foot out the door, whoever cared the least won. It was the way you both protected yourself.

It was only now you were realizing the commitment issues had gone both ways, for a time at least. It was easier if you played with no skin in the game, there was nothing to lose. But now, you had everything to lose and you didn’t want to waste a single moment playing the stupid games you’d wasted so many years of your life devoted to.

“Every word?”

“Every. Single. One. Especially the ones about your lame singing.” You couldn’t help your grin that snuck out as you teased him. 

“Lame? I’m sorry it's that gruff, sexy singing that made your ass crush on me.”

“God. I wish I could take it all back, but I do Benny, I fucking adore you.”

All through your back and forth he’d been advancing. It was as if your words prompted him to pounce. His hands were planted on your cheeks, as he gave you a part of himself in an all consuming kiss. 

It was like he was trying to explain all his feelings, all the hurt and frustration and affection he’d felt in one kiss.

As his tongue brushed yours and his hands trailed the sides of your body to pull you against him, your hands found his shoulders as you attempted to pull him closer, as if that was even possible. 

The two of you had been at war for so long, so afraid to give eachother any part of yourself. The air was thick with emotion, your hormones were all over the place as tears began to leak from your eyes. 

Relief, joy, lo- you couldn’t name the emotion entirely but it was some combination. With your kisses you promised to start anew, to fix what was broken and forget all the hurt you had caused one another.  

You were going to do your best for her, for your Joy.

Unable to stop yourself, you grabbed at the waistband of his sweats, finding the warm skin of his toned stomach. That seemed to bring him back to reality as he grabbed your hands and placed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily through his nose in what you assumed was an attempt to gather his self control. 

“Angel, you’re gonna start something you can’t finish, by my reckon… for at least 6 weeks.” 

“Let me take care of you.” You breathed, dropping your kisses lower to his neck. 

 “No, baby. We’re doing this right. I’m not gonna cum in your mouth and then leave you to carry on with your day aching in both ways - at least not till you can return the favor in mine.” He kissed your forehead chastely, as if he hadn’t just promised to eat you out the second your pussy was healed. 

“Benny.” You whined.

“I don’t care Y/N. We’re doing this right, I’ve fucked this up too many times.”

“I guess 6 weeks isn’t too long… right?”

WRONG.

Four Weeks Later

The two of you had come in leaps and bounds in your communication and you were striving towards a healthy relationship.

Hell, the two of you had been on about five PG-13 dates. Sure, it was slowly killing you, the lack of physical contact below the belt, but the two of you were getting to know each other as a romantic partner instead of a best friend that occasionally rides him in his truck.

It was good, going back over the steps the two of you had missed. Your injured vagina was allowing you to take it slow, something you and Benny sorely needed the second time round.

Though, it was still Benny. So he constantly teetered on the edge of gentlemanly courtship as he caressed the meat of your thigh as the two of you sat closely in a booth; and you loved it. 

All in all, it was kinda perfect.

So it was fitting that your perfect life shattered around you on a random Saturday morning.

“Sure Jaz, I’ll meet you at 11…. Okay, see you soon.” You heard from the man currently cradling your daughter in his arms as he gave her a bottle.

God, you wished you had more faith in your shiny new relationship, that you didn’t immediately jump to anger. 

Alas, rage was an old ally and you leapt into his eagerly awaiting arms. 

Every single doubt and unfair suspicion raised to your tongue as he turned to face you. He fixed you with an easy smile, clearly none-the wiser about the eye of the storm he was currently wandering into.

“Ben... I’ve gotta’ ask. It's been weighing on me for months… but who the fuck is Jaz?”

He blanched, his eyes looking down to your daughter as if she at 4 weeks old was capable of critical thinking. It clearly wasn’t what he was expecting when it left your mouth. He looked… somewhere between embarrassed and guilty.

It was then your eye caught the bottles that hadn’t been rinsed. They were abandoned on the marble, left to sour. That all but sealed his fate.

Sure, if you weren’t actively plotting his and his secret girlfriend's demise, you may not have overreacted. But in that solitary, ugly moment, that basic lack of regard he held for you and your relationship was encapsulated by his inability to complete the singular god forsaken chore that was his. 

The guy didn’t have a chance to respond before you were at the sink filling the washing up bowl with foamy water. The aroma of sour milk as you unscrewed the bottle lids only served to stoke your fires as you all but threw the stinking bottles in the water, splashing yourself with suds as you did.

“Do I have to do everything?!” 

“Y/N…”

“Sometimes, Ben…” 

“What the fuck - can we just rewind or can you explain what exactly it is you think i’ve done?!” He is incredulous as he places your daughter in her soothing swing chair, his arms now raising in surrender. 

“You need me to explain?” You huff, stoney in disbelief at his gall. 

“For god sake Y/N… leave them, I’m gonna get to them after this one.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve learnt not to believe you when you say things and do the complete opposite…”

“Do the complete opposite?” You heard clear as day the anger building in his voice. “If you wanna say something, then fucking say it!”

“FINE! I’ll say it! “ You slammed the last bottle in the bowl and turned round, wiping your hands on a tea towel as you fixed your gaze on him. “I thought you were happy taking it slow, I thought you wanted to be with me. But no, Jaz. AGAIN..”

He let out a light laugh, one that held no humor. “Christ sakes, Y/N - Jaz is a client! - I’m a fuckin’ personal trainer!”

“SHE’S- Oh-”

“Yeah - Oh.” His arms were crossed across his chest and his eyes had hardened.

“I - I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To go from a soldier, to a fighter, to a glorified crossfit instructor …  just a little humiliating, Y/N.” His voice was flat and dejected as he spoke. 

At that moment, you were utterly ashamed.

“Ben… I am so -”

“Yeah. You’re sorry. But that's the thing, no matter how much I apologize or tell you how I feel about you, it's never enough. Y/N why are we even bothering when you clearly still don’t trust me.”

“Ben, I-”

“No, Y/N. It's not fair. I’ve been a good Dad and to be completely honest I’ve been a pretty stellar boyfriend, and yet all I get from you is fuckin’ accusations!” 

You hadn’t seen Benny this angry outside of the of the ring in a long fucking time. Yet you weren’t afraid of him as he came to stand before you, you knew Ben.  

“I can’t do this. Not if you’re gonna hold on to every doubt you have about me and whip them out every time I do something to piss you off, I’m not perfect Y/N.”

“I’m trying… Ben it’s not-”

“No. Listen, I told you. I told you how hard this was for me.” He stood before you, his shoulders sagged in defeat as his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I fucking poured my heart out to you, baby. I only want you and if you can’t trust that, then this isn’t going to work out and we need to stop and just be parents, because I’m not gonna live my life like this - instantly guilty for whatever shit your head dreams up for me.” 

He picked up his cap from the dining room table and bent down to place a kiss on your sleeping daughter's forehead before he swiped his hair back from his face and placed the cap on top.  Your fingers were aching from the grip you had on the counter.

“Well, I'm going to have some adulterous sex with my side piece Jasmine. Then I might swing by Flanagan’s on my way home for a threesome with an old flame. Who knows might make it a goddamn foursome!” Benny strolled out, he didn’t slam a single door. Always conscientious of the baby.

Goddamn you felt like shit.

It was hard to admit that you were wrong. 

All joking aside, you weren’t used to it. You never went into battle half cocked, which meant all arguments were mentally vetted before you championed a cause. But no matter how you sliced it, this time you were unequivocally wrong.

You had come at him with such anger. God, you should’ve just calmly asked him who Jasmine was. Why did you automatically assume the worst?

Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda - Didn’t do any good now.

Simply put, you had been a dick, to a man who had been nothing short of amazing to you. 

It was as you stood frozen leaning against the counter top that you began to realize you’d never fully forgiven Ben for what happened a year ago. The toll that had taken on your self worth and your confidence.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. You had promised yourself when starting this back up you’d forgive everything from the past, but you supposed that was hard when he’d never really apologized. 

That was petty, you reasoned.  

You knew he was sorry. 

The two of you had jumped straight back into dating, deciding to try and have the perfect romance without the deep connection which came from talking through the nitty gritty. All because the truth of the matter was;  feelings made you both uncomfortable.

So you avoided talking about them at all costs, hell you'd been in active labour before you'd been able to bare your soul to him.

So, how could you be so surprised when it bubbled up in these ugly ways?

Deciding to resolve these difficult thoughts with Benny when or if he returned, eased the ache within yourself a tiny bit.   

Placing the baby monitor beside your sleeping daughter you decided to prepare yourself for that conversation. 

You made it through one life affirming shower and half of your skincare routine before her wails demanded your presence. 

“Mommy’s coming baby.” You spoke through the monitor using it as a walkie talkie. It was hard not to flash back to your service days as you used it. You were half way down the stairs reminiscing on the good ole days when you weren’t a complete asshole, when you heard a male voice whispering to Tee on the monitor. 

It was instinctual; you didn’t even think, you just moved, taking the stairs two at a time, stopping only to grab a weapon or, as it is more commonly known as, a broom.  

“GET AWAY FROM HER, ASSHOLE.” You wielded the broom like a hockey stick ready to swing on the assailant. As you rounded the corner and were stupefied to find Benny there with your daughter, his eyes wide as you entered the room ready to assault him.

“Y/N?!”

“BENNY. OH MY CHRIST. I thought - “ In a single moment you instantly drop the broom and grab your baby from his arms, planting kisses all over her face and head. 

“Oh my god, you scared mommy, Tee. Yes you did. My heart, oh fucking christ. I didn’t expect you back.”

“What can I say - I didn't fancy the orgy today.”

“Daddy’s very funny, Sienna.”

“Sienna… Sienna Miller?” Benny narrows his eyes over the top of his Starbucks takeout cup.  

“Veto.” You both say in unison despite your argument. 

Tee whined in your arms, amping up for a wail.

“She didn’t finish her bottle before she fell asleep earlier.” Ben pointed out to the half empty bottle waiting to be washed up. Your stomach dropped at the mere sight of the cause of your hissy fit earlier.

“Are you hungry, beautiful girl?” You crooned to your baby after a pause. Adjusting the robe you had thrown on after your shower. “I’ll feed her and then we can talk?”

He nodded, his face giving nothing away. It was strange to be stonewalled by Ben. Usually every thought that crossed his mind was mirrored on his face. 

Taking a seat in the love chair you’d set up in the lounge for this exact purpose you exposed your breast. You had been doing a half breast half formula feeding pattern so that Ben could pitch in.

She latched on quickly, but never as quickly as she did the bottle. A tiny part of you was disappointed, as you’d always had images of breastfeeding your child. But with a low milk supply you’d had little option but to supplement with bottles, but beyond the bonding aspect you had no qualms with the bottle.

Tee was slowly falling asleep as she drank and after about five minutes she was gone to the world. 

Feeling guilty all while, you held her to your chest after rearranging your robe. You should be speaking to Benny about your regrettable words earlier and yet you couldn’t force your legs to move. Telling someone you had been a complete dick wasn’t a fun thing to do.

So it made sense after about ten minutes of hiding that Benny appeared with the moses basket in toe for your sleeping angel. 

You nodded thankfully and silently you handed her off to him, making sure that your entire chest was covered. 

He placed her in the far corner of the room, far enough away that your voices - if they were kept below a shout - wouldn’t wake her.

He took a seat to your right, there was about a meter between you. It was all so stiff, like a business meeting as you each waited for the other to speak. 

“So.” He muttered avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll start. I’m sorry Ben. You didn’t deserve that.” His eyes rose to meet yours. “I want this to work. I meant it, I want to leave it all behind and I thought I could - just forget everything, I mean. But I can’t. I think, well, I think we need to talk about it.”

“Y/N-”

“No, Ben, please. I’ve thought about this for like twenty minutes in the shower.” You left your seat to sit beside him. “I know you don’t like… feelings. I don’t either, it's awkward. But, I need to get through this to get over it, y’know?” 

“I think I do.” He nodded.  You took his hand in yours. 

“I’m not making excuses, I’m sorry I lost my shit this morning. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. When I heard her name, I was right back there. Pregnant and alone and just completely unsure about everything; infatuated with a guy who I didn’t think felt the same. It was terrifying … And I’ve never told you that. It messed with my head everything that happened last year.”

“Right back where?... When you heard her name?”

“At the baby shower.”

“Oh Y/N, you should've asked!”

“Why? We weren’t together.”

“I started as a PT about a month after Christmas. After I found out and the hospital - It's a hell of a lot safer and the pay’s more steady. I’m still training with Will but the fights are gonna’ be … fewer. I wanna be around.” His hand clutched in yours tightened his thumb on your fingers forcing you to look up.

“You’re such a good Dad. I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t” Your hand rose to his face. 

“I am so sorry. I haven’t said it have I? But I am. That night you told me you wanted more and I shut you down, I broke your heart. I don’t want anyone else, only you. I need you to hear me.”

“I do Ben, I do.”

“No, Y/N. I want you to be my wife, I want you to have more of my babies. You’re the only one for me, I think of you when I wake up, before I go to sleep - there hasn’t been a day in the past ten years I haven’t thought about you. I will never hurt you like that again, I fucking promise you.”

Tears sprung to your eyes as your heart began to heal, it felt so full as you sat beside him basking in his words.

“I fucking dig you Benny.” You grabbed his cheeks pulling him into a kiss. It started off lighter before it began to deepen. 

Teasingly you flicked your tongue against his gaining access, biting his lip you pulled yourself onto his lap to get a better angle on your exploration of his mouth. Through his jeans you felt him begin to swell as he pressed against the linen of your robe. 

It had only been three weeks, but you were desperate for him to be inside you. Compromise was the name of the game.  

He pulled away from your mouth, which you were fine with, you knew the words about to leave his lips. Which is why you decided to be persuasive as you trailed kisses down his neck. 

“Baby, no, you’ve only just had a baby, c’mon.”

Smothering kisses against his warm skin, he smelled deliciously of the Calvin Klein aftershave he always spritzed on before leaving the house. You moved your hips against his, which prompted him to grab them. His large hands splayed across your ass, holding you still as he attempted to maintain some semblance of self control.

“You can’t go inside, but we can still have fun.” You whispered into his neck. “Besides, you’re the injured party, I have an apology to make.”

“Well…” He moaned as you playfully bit at his warm flesh “You were mean as hell, baby.”

With Benjamin's help you shrugged the linen dressing gown from your shoulders. Instantly you were completely exposed before him.  His eyes zeroed in on your swollen breasts, sure he’d seen them in passing but never so freely exposed and at eye level. 

Hands gentle as always rose to cup them. Those gorgeous fingers skirted around your nipples making your hips rut down against his hardened member. 

“Sensitive.” You explained before he placed kisses on them. He kissed along the underside of your breast before lathering his tongue around your nipples. His gaze lowered and his palms skirted along your sides before they landed on your ass. 

You couldn’t help your self consciousness, the last time this man had seen you naked you’d been a size Y/S. Now you had some fresh stretch marks and a stomach still swollen from your child. 

However, all your self consciousness went out the window the second he squeezed at the meat there and pulled you down against his jeans, his hips thrusted up in time, almost unintentionally. 

The fabric was causing some delicious friction against your clit, yet you wanted more. 

“Is this okay, you’re not in pain?” He asked resting his forehead against yours.

You kissed his lips as you held onto his jaw.

“No. I want more.”

“You can’t have more, your sweet pussy needs more time before I ruin it.” He smirked before claiming your mouth with his tongue, putting all his filthy promises behind it.

“No, but you can.” You leaned backwards and began to undo his zipper. His hands came up to stop you before he remembered your words from earlier. 

Finally, you set him free. He was bigger than you remembered, straining up against Ben’s belly. You couldn't resist as you rubbed your bare heat against him. You were sopping as his cock came away wet. 

Benny groaned, one hand squeezing the meat of your ass and the other staying firmly on your hip, just in case you tried something. You grabbed his chin, joining your mouths in a deep kiss, once more you dropped your hips, your clit bumping against the head of his cock in the most delicious way before you slid along his shaft. 

Once again he groaned, this time into your mouth which you greedily swallowed up. Playfully you bit at his lip, touching your tongue once more to his just to give him a preview of how talented it could be.  

He began to help you as he pushed his jeans further down his thighs frantically as you moved off of his lap and fell onto your knees between his legs. 

Your mouth watered as you stared at his pulsing cock, now covered in your own wetness.  You couldn’t help a smirk as his head dropped back on the couch as he tried to give you space to work. 

Slowly, playfully almost, you stroked his length and you couldn't help a small smirk as his hips thrusted into your palm.  Right where you wanted him, he was fighting a losing battle of control.

With no warning you leaned down and swiped your quick tongue along the head of his cock. If the groans had added to the flood below the belt, the broken call of your name had you practically gushing. 

Leaning forward to get a better vantage, you sneakily pressed your heel into your clit. It alleviated some of the pressure but nowhere near enough. 

All at once you took his length into your mouth, his cry was absolutely gorgeous as he grabbed at his own thigh. 

Your tongue lathered the veins that hid on the underside of his cock. It was wet and messy and he was quickly falling apart in your mouth. 

He was fighting the urge to fuck your mouth as he gripped at his thighs in solidarity, you wanted him to bruise the back of your throat with his thrusts.

You reached up and grabbed his hand, currently grabbing at his thigh and placed it into your hair. It was an open invitation, to let himself go. To stop being so polite and sorry, to go back to fucking you the way he used to.

It was an invited he RSVP’ed immediately.  His hands immediately began guiding your face up and down his cock, pushing your face down so that the head of his dick nudged the back of your throat. 

Your gag constricted around his cock which made his head roll back in pleasure.  His hand loosened its hold on your hair, almost asking permission. 

With a roll off your eyes you dropped your head harder than he had, his cock was practically in your esophagus, but it showed him you could take it. 

“Yes, baby. Fuck - you suck cock so good.”   

Unable to help it you grinded against your heel, desperate for the sweet relief of his touch, but unable to receive it.

You noticed the pressure building as his stomach began taut as he continued fucking your face. 

Taking back control, your hands found his balls and rolled them between your fingers caused him to groan as that pressure increased.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna-” His cry was all you needed as you as you took his entire length in your mouth. You fought the urge to gag as you reminded yourself to breathe through your nose. His come spurted hotly down your throat as you swallowed every damn drop of it. 

“Everything is looking good - your perineum has healed very nicely.” Dr Clarke announced from her sensitive position between your stirruped knees. The doctor pushed herself back on her rolling stool as she began to remove her gloves to dispose of them before she turned to you with a cheerful smile. “I’m happy to sign you off with a clean bill of health, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but to return her infectious grin after, of course, you lifted your legs from the stirrups to allow for a smidge more dignity. 

“So… Sex? I’m all good?”

“Yes, Y/N, you’re all cleared for sex. It's been seven weeks since your labour and everything looks good, no pain. Obviously if that changes during and you get any red discharge, well, just make sure you keep an eye on it and get in touch if anything worries you. ”

That was two hours ago and you weren’t ashamed to admit you were already in the middle of an everything bath. Every surface of your body was buffed smooth and slowly being moisturised by the bath bomb fizzing away. 

A glass of red wine sat on the ledge, as you lay back basking in the candle light despite it being midday. 

Tonight was the night. For weeks on end you had fallen asleep aching and whilst clitorial stimulation was a powerful thing, nothing could replace that beautiful cock inside of you, stretching you to your limit making you cry for… Ahem. 

It had been a somewhat gradual development over the past six weeks; your transformation into a teenage boy with uncontrollably raging hormones. 

 The deprivation had amounted in essence to a month and half of edging and you were one bad afternoon away from mounting Ben’s leg like a bitch in heat.

Benny was resolute in his decision and had apparently saint-like (read as masochistic) restraint and would not go any further until he had confirmation from your doctor that it was safe, nevermind that you were a highly trained combat medic who knew her own body. 

Despite his refusal to go past third base, the two of you had become reacquainted in your dating period, he’d been at the back of your throat more nights than you could count and you were so desperate to feel him inside you again.

Sure, you’d come more times than you could count in the past two weeks - Benny ate pussy like the fucking champ he was. The man had made you come on his tongue three times in one night and yet when you fell asleep wrapped in his arms, your insides felt hollow. 

It was like having a prime rib in front of you and only being able to eat the french fries. Sure, they were salty and delicious but they didn’t fill you up quite the same way.

So, when you heard the front door open downstairs you were elated. 

The pounding of Benny's feet as he took the steps two at a time was music to your ears and your good mood continued as after a minute of searching for you he began to open the bathroom door. 

There he found you in a bath full of bubbles, in what you hoped was a seductive pose with your elbows poised on the tub - your collar bones were popping in the very least.

“Well.. hello.” Benny gave you a sleazy smirk as he advanced. Leaning over the bath to greet you with a deep kiss. And boy, was it deep - you could taste his coffee order on his tongue as it swept leisurely against your own. When he had finally had his fill, he pulled back if only slightly, resting his forehead against yours and  crouching next to the tub.

“You look like a goddamn angel.” He whispered, running a thumb down your spine gently caressing every sud covered joint. “All good at the docs? Everything where it should be?”

“She gave me a clean bill of health.” You tell him, slightly disappointed with the mood change but as always overwhelmed by the concern he held for you.

“You tell her about your ankles?”

“Please, Ben. Let's not talk about my swollen ankles, right now.” You wrapped your wet arms around his neck and pulled him forward with every intention of having him join you in the tub.

“Woah, tiger. Did you forget? It’s Santiago’s Bon Voyage party! He’s waiting downstairs with Mag’s.” He grinned as he pulled away, training sweats now covered in bubbles. 

Unable to stop yourself, you pouted. “Ben, if we had a party every time that man leaves the US we’d never stop being drunk. Come join me, please?” Ben’s brows furrowed for a moment and you dared to believe you'd won before a second, much more annoying voice, chimed in from the hallway.

“Now that is hurtful mi corazón!”

Benny chuckled as you rolled your eyes. He used your momentary distraction to pull away, stood to his full height and turned the bathroom lights on.

“You ruined my bath.” You sighed as you pulled yourself up and turned on the shower to rinse yourself. “I had so many juicy scenarios of us, that funnily enough all ended with you soapy and glistening.” 

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me about them?” Benny smirks as he begins shaving. 

“You're really not gonna join me?” You pout yet again.

“Baby, if I go anywhere near you whilst your tits look like that, I won’t leave this house tonight.” 

It's the eye contact that gets you, it makes your knees weak and that near constant ache flare up. With a huff you shut the water off, you were slow as you climbed out of the bath, in part because you didn’t want to slip and die, the other; a seductive dance. 

Benny was doing his best to ignore you and stick to his task, though you could see his eyes follow you in the mirror, especially as your breasts bounced as you hopped your leg out of the tub. 

Granted, not quite as graceful as you imagined, yet it didn’t seem to matter to him one iota. 

Slowly, with the towel as a prop you took your time to dry off, you ran it along every inch of your entirely exposed flesh, watching as his enraptured eyes followed its path. 

Completely unable to help yourself, you leaned forward, pressing your bare breasts up against his arm. Your hands wrapped around the long bottle of cocoa butter as you backed away innocently. 

As you were yet to get a rise out of him, you decided to raise the stakes in an all out act of war. Under the guise of hanging your towel up on the rack beside the bath, you turned on your heel. 

With your back now exposed to him, in one fluid movement you bent at the waist, exposing everything to the father of your child. 

It was a cruel wanton decision. 

At his inhale, you knew you’d met your mark, so, as if you weren’t currently splayed out showing him your pussy, you began rubbing your cocoa butter into your newly smooth legs despite the less than ideal position for lotioning.

Once your legs were thoroughly lotioned, you looked over your shoulder to see Benny’s eyes trained on your exposed pussy, almost salivating at your incorrigible offering.  

A part of you was happy, he was finally feeling what you had been non-stop for three months. 

With that thought in mind, your brain cooked up a delicious little plan. 

Benny, as unrestrained as you currently were, driven to the edge over and over unable to tumble the precipice. He’d be an animal. The one he usually reserved for the fights. The ravaging wouldn’t quite be the love making he wanted but it would soothe the ache deep inside you.

Utterly resolved, you stood back up. You moved the bottle from palm to palm, suggestively stroking the phallic shape. He was completely entranced in your seduction, you were half convinced he’d completely forgotten Santiago's name as he watched your every movement with lust laden eyes.

As you reached across like before and your erect nipple brushed his bare arm, he turned to you. You placed the bottle back in its spot before you looked up at him. 

“Ooh Baby,  you cut yourself,” Slowly, all whilst maintaining eye contact your tongue brushed the pad of your thumb. Rising up on your tippy toes, your nipples barely brushing against his t-shirt clad chest, you wiped the line of blood from his chin. “Careful, love. I don’t want my seat to be hacked to pieces for later.”

Benny was, to put it lightly, stunned. 

It was fair to say, Benjamin had always been the aggressor in your encounters. 

It wasn’t so much that you were shy around the topic of sex, it was just that Benny was so outgoing. He told you what he wanted, not with words so much but with his body - that wasn’t to say that he didn’t have a dirty mouth to boot, but he was always the first to make a move and you liked it that way. 

This new desperate need had bought out a side of you neither had seen before and if the jostled mess of a Miller you left in your wake was any indication, you both liked it. 

Unfortunately instead of being pounded into your head board until you couldn’t walk straight as you should by all rights currently be doing, you were sat in Will’s lounge nursing your third glass of merlot openly eye fucking the father of your child.

In your defence, you had not hidden your desire to leave and for the most part everyone was pretty understanding, except for Benny. 

Who refused to leave or acknowledge you.

You were frustrated - no - you had passed frustrated two weeks ago;  you were furious. 

It had been three hours, you’d made the small talk, your daughter had been paraded around her doting uncles and the party herd had thinned to your inner circle. 

You loved Santiago so much, but even he understood; a girls gotta eat.

Consider it a by-product of three months of edging or maybe it was just plain childish revenge but his refusal to leave made you want for him to feel as desperate and as needy as you had been.

So, you constructed your three point plan. 

Turn him on

Leave him wanting more

Reap the benefits

It wasn’t a difficult plan, sure.

In theory giving the father of your child blue balls was pretty straight forward, but it was complicated when he was very deliberately avoiding looking your way; It seemed you’d made quite the impression in the bathroom. 

A burst of feminine pride overtook you at the thought of that and it gave you the courage for your first step. 

Eavesdropping, you joined Val and Santi’s conversation by the wine table. You were in the direct eye line of Benny, where he was currently talking with Frankie, Will and would you believe it-  Jen from Christmas! 

(It seemed like they had a cute little ‘will they/won’t they’ thing going on and you were here for it. )

As you filled your glass with the dregs of the bottle you joined their conversation, it was about Santi’s plans in Australia. Now you didn’t believe the majority of them as he used the word retire about six times, but you were happy he was happy, and that was enough. 

You’d almost forgotten your plan as you laughed with your friends, gossiping about Will and Jen.  

“I really hope they make it this time.” Val sighed heavily to the two of you. “She makes him so happy. It’s nice to see him smile!”

“I’m sure they will, they keep finding their way back to one another.” You added. 

“Plus, she’s great in bed.” Both women fixed Santi with a glare, he had the wrong crowd. “Will. Will told me she’s great in bed. Ladies, ladies - I would never do that to my boy.”

Rolling your eyes at your friend's joke, you surveyed the room. 

Ben still wouldn’t look your way and you felt that was unlikely to change any time soon. You were racking your brain for ideas on how to wind him up and short of a bend and snap you were coming up empty. 

At least, that was, until you saw the table.

You see, Marianna had a multipack of suckers, open on the coffee table in front of the couch she was currently watching her iPad on. 

Abandoning your glass of wine after politely excusing yourself, you took one and sat beside the child who paid you very little heed as you plopped down.  

Unwrapping a strawberry flavoured pop, you brought it to your lips. 

Benny was deliberate in his avoidance of eye contact, however, your eyes must have burnt a hole in his head as finally his eyes swept to the right, almost as a scan of the perimeter. They caught your own and the image you must have painted… your lips were slick with saliva and strawberry syrup. 

Your tongue wantonly ran along the pop whilst you maintained your very best bedroom eyes, it was difficult to do whilst also making sure Marianna never looked your way. 

A good thing too because you wouldn't be able to cover the fee of therapy for the young girl.

Slowly you placed the lollipop back in your mouth, wetting it once again with your tongue. As you pulled it back out you made sure your lips dragged along the surface. 

Benny stared at you as if you were prey, his hands tightened on his beer bottle as his chest moved in heavy deliberate breaths. 

Your pièce de résistance to bring it home is when you stuck your tongue out and bobbed it across. It was positively vulgar the way your spit dragged behind the ball, but Benny was mesmerised, which just so happened to draw Will and Jen’s attention. 

Very quickly your tongue was back in your mouth and your lollipop was resting on the inside of your cheek.

“Really, Y/N? You’re a mother and Mari’s right there!” Will huffed with your daughter in his arms, before he turned back to Ben.  “Seriously Ben-” 

Happy with your display you turned to Marianna, wrapping an arm around her. “What we watchin’?” 

Will had gone back to fawning over Maggie and Benny’s eyes strayed your way once more.  You shot a second wink at the man who had driven you to this insanity, deciding to be kind - well, kinda - You removed the pop from your mouth and with one clean swipe, licked all of the strawberry residue from your lips and promptly placed the lollipop between your molars and bit down, cleaving the treat in two. You couldn’t resist smiling innocently as you chobbled the hard candy, you couldn’t help the pride you felt as he discreetly attempted to rearrange his trousers. 

After being caught by Will and catching up with Marianna on the goings on of JoJo Siwia you headed over to Val, Santi and Jen with every intention of saving the new arrival. 

However your journey across the room was interrupted by Margaret and it wasn’t truly until you raced over to comfort your crying daughter that you came to the realisation that the man you loved was a monster. 

You were at Frankie’s side after a mere moment, her wails pierced your soul. 

“I think she's hungry.” Frank murmured whilst stroking her head and whispering in Spanish that was both too quick and quiet for you to make out, however Margaret’s cries had died down into whines. “Bottles in the bag?” 

“I think Ben left it out in the hall. You good with her?” You smile gratefully when he didn’t dignify it with a response, only cradling her closer and whilst patting her nappy clad butt rhythmically. 

You were in the coat cupboard under the stairs, searching through the coats and bags as you whispered distractedly to yourself. “Where’s your daddy put the diaper bag, Mags?”

The door creaked closed behind you, curious, you turned towards the noise and before your brain could even process the fact it was a trap, Benny had you pinned up against the wall with a hand over your mouth. 

A coat hook dug into your L3 yet as he pushed his hardened cock against your thigh; you can’t find it in you to care.

“What you did in the bathroom was mean. What you did with the lollipop was even meaner. Now I’ve gotta’ be the meanest and you don’t know how much I wanna take you home and-” He grunted into your neck.

“Mggie-mmmhgry–” You interrupted beneath his hand. He released your mouth and you repeated. “Maggie’s hungry.”

Benny ignored you entirely and began devouring your low neckline. “I was in the kitchen making her a bottle, mama.”

“God-” Your eyes clenched shut as his mouth explored the expanse of your throat “You’re such a good daddy, baby.” 

He goes rigid. 

For a solitary moment, you’re not sure if it's a good rigid or a bad one. 

Then he bit your lip. 

“Oh. You like it when I call you Daddy?” You whispered, pulling away from his mouth for a moment, before you joined your lips again. You had begun grinding your thigh into his bulge, phase one of your plan. 

In between hot kisses, you reached down and undid his trouser button. Your hand was sliding into his pants and wrapped around his member before he even knew what was happening. You had switched positions, now his back was up against the opposite wall and you were in control. 

Benny’s head fell back as you teased him. You dropped your mouth to his neck, kissing and biting the chorded muscle there as he rested his head. Eyes squeezed shut as he wrestled for control. 

His gasps were completely wrecked. Part of you felt vindicated; he now knew what you had suffered for the past few weeks. The desperate need for release. 

Benny sounded insanely close already just from a dry handjob in his brother's coat closet. You almost felt bad when, alas, just like that, you pulled your palm away.

“Y/N?” His voice was dazed as his eyes opened and his breathing remained ragged.

“It was a real dick move making us stay so long.” You pouted angrily, though there was no real heat behind your words as your body stayed pressed against his. “You don’t even know how wet I’ve been for the past five hours,”

Taking his strong lithe hands in yours - one of your favourite parts of him, back before you discovered a few new favourites - and lifted your dress. He was like a rag doll, pliable. You’d never seen Benny Miller so… submissive. 

He groaned as you lifted your dress to reveal your bare core. His two fingers looked giant as your much smaller ones guided him down, of course he helped, eager for anything you’d give. 

It had been a while and despite the labour you were incredibly tight, but your arousal more than lubricated the way. You were positively aching as his fingers dipped straight inside your channel. The groan was that of a tortured man as he felt the sheer amount of slick. He had bent down, his head resting on your shoulder for better purchase. 

Benny seemed to remember himself as he delved deeper, now scissoring his two fingers inside you. 

You’re big enough to admit that as you gave a gasp of pleasure, you were tempted to abandon the plan entirely, in favour of riding his cock in the cupboard under the stairs. You grabbed his long hair, your fingers weaving through to his roots. Not pulling, per say but enough that you had regained control. It helped that he had bent slightly to push his fingers deeper inside of you, in what you assumed from the pleasure coursing through your veins was an attempt to reach your cervix, meaning you were now the same height. 

Your voice was breathy as he had yet to pause his ministrations. Yet you placed a wet kiss on his lips, nipping at his bottom lip as you parted. 

“You’d slip right in, and you’d be so, so deep and delicious and it’d feel so good … but now you’ve gotta wait.” 

Your hand grabbed at his forearm, stopping his movements. Ever the gentleman, despite his desperate want, pulled back. 

You had yet to release your hold on his forearm as you bought his slick fingers up to your mouth and cleaned them off for him.

Denying yourself the quickie was worth it for the wounded groan of defeat as he pinched his eyes closed with his head thrown back. It almost broke your resolve as he stuffed his still hard cock back in his pants with some difficulty, looking all sad. 

Yet you stayed strong and rejoined the party, looking a little frazzled yourself. 

One and a half excruciating hours later, when you finally make it through your front door, you are burning for him. 

Which coincidentally means that your daughter decides that this is the perfect opportunity for a complete and utter meltdown. 

It was like the girl knew and had to throw down one last roadblock to fuck with you. Honestly, you were contemplating abandoning her at a fire station when Benny began rocking the wailing baby against his chest, soothing her cries and crooning softly to her. 

“You go up - I’ll get her a bottle.” Benny whispers to you, squeezing your palm. Weekends were important to Ben; giving you time to yourself, after spending all week with the newborn - he utterly cherished the time spent with his girl.

You placed a kiss on his cheek and stroked her head as you passed. 

Rushing to the bedroom, you grab a nightie from your drawer, it was the cute one you hadn’t worn in nearly a year. The one with matching, barely there, shorts beneath it. It left just enough to the imagination, not that you imagined you’d be wearing it for long if Benny had his way. 

You brush your teeth, your hair and throw on some deodorant for good measure. 

Fully prepped you return to your bedroom, no Benny in sight. 

Now, it's worth mentioning, you had been turned on for hours at this point. Your core was practically pulsating from watching the father of your child well… father Maggie. But, put it down to the four glasses of merlot or the long nights with a newborn, but as you seductively pose against the pillows waiting for Benny to join you, you find your eyelids become heavier and heavier until you find yourself drifting off into a light sleep.

There’s no telling how long you’ve been asleep, as you have fallen deep into the pillows, no longer sexily poised ready for his arrival. Benny has dipped the warm lights low and Maggie’s white noise machine is soothingly playing Mozart from the bassinet in the corner of the room; it's a perfect night.

“It was selfish of me to wake you up.” Benny’s face is equal parts reverent and guilty as he stares at you, mirroring your position in the pillows. One hand runs up your exposed arm with a delicate soothing touch, one that does little if nothing to soothe you.  “You need your sleep, being a total milf must take it out of you.”

“You’d know.” Your voice is thick with sleep and your retort barely makes any sense, but he breathes through his nose, shaking his head at your delirium. 

“Go back to sleep baby.” He pulls the covers up over your legs. 

For a moment you are stunned; you had literally been edging him all night, and yet he still prioritised your rest. 

It was hard to associate him as the man who had broken your heart all those months ago for merely asking for a relationship. Yet it was him who was scared to take that step towards caring for another person. Benny had grown so much, as a father, as a partner; as a man. 

He had proven himself time and time again, worthy of the unspoken feelings between you, the three words which the two of you held captive, weighed heavy on your tongue. Despite all of your confessions both of you are too afraid to say them, both as complicated mess of commitment issues as the other.  

It wasn’t a game, withholding them, per say. It was fear; plain and simple, to say them, as if those words would somehow make this real. This thing between the two of you, the thing you had been chasing all those months ago, when you had confronted him outside your building. 

Benny opens his arms; an invitation you’d be a fool to refuse. His chest is bare and he’s clad only in his underwear. A discovery you’re happy to make as you burrow into his warm toned chest, though you have no intention of sleep anymore. 

For a moment, you breathe him in. You take stock of all the hurdles, the hurt and heartbreak, the relief and joy the two of you had gone through to get here. Whilst you may wish you’d taken a less scenic route, you can’t begrudge the pain, because it got you where you are now. 

“I love you.” Your voice is thick with both sleep and emotion when you say the words you’ve never spoken romantically to another person. 

He goes stiff and you're proud to say, you’re not afraid. 

Benny has proven himself. 

He has earnt that time, the moment or two he takes to pause, his arms rigid around you in shock at your earnest words. 

You trust him with your heart, because he has shown you beyond doubt he would guard it more ferociously than his own. 

For your faith he rewards you, grabbing your chin and crushing his lips to your own in a soul rendering kiss. One that holds the words he can’t seem quite able to get out, yet you know he feels as strongly as you. 

Benny pulls away and stares at you for a long moment, his blue eyes taking you in as if he’s seeing you for the first time. He manoeuvres you into the downy pillows, so smoothly you’re not entirely sure it wasn’t your idea to move.

Those baby blues glide across your body, taking inventory in a way he’d either never had the time or inclination before.  He is revenant in his reintroduction of your anatomy. 

Benny’s large hand finds your thighs and pushes them apart so he can take his seat between them.  Languidly he crawls above you bearing his weight on his elbows. 

He joins your lips once again, though this time he instantly deepens it, his tongue meeting yours as he licks into your mouth. 

Those hands you love so much, drag down the expanse of your tummy, sliding into the waistband of your night shorts. 

There's a slow drag of his tongue on your bottom lip, as his fingers drag across your soaking wet slit before his two fingers plunge knuckle deep, stretching you with very little resistance. 

You let out a deep moan though his hot mouth swallows your cry. You swear you feel his lips curl in a smile against yours. 

Evidently Benny remembers your body like the back of his hand, as his fingers curl against your walls in just the right way that has your toes curling. His thumb dips into your heat and gathers your slick, before it finds purchase on your bud. 

With military precision he swirls his thumb on your clit and after a few rotations you’re basically a goner. You grab at his hair, as you come hard from just his fingers. His mouth on yours continues to swallow your cries as you ride out your high. When it finally all becomes too much he pulls his sodden fingers from you only to lick them clean. Unable to help yourself, you let out a moan at the wanton show of debauchery. He pulls back for a moment to pull your nightie over your head, leaving you only in your soaked shorts. 

He kisses down your chest, nipping and licking along your breasts - his tongue lavishing your nipples in worship. Benny pushes your wet shorts down your hips, ready to dive in head first and devour your core, however, you’ve had six weeks of agonising foreplay, you are eager for this gorgeous man to be inside of you and ease this painful ache. 

“Benny… Please, I want you inside of me.” For years to come this will be a point of contention, whether or not you begged for his cock that first time. 

But right now, he simply nods pushing himself back up your body, his boxers are kicked down his legs as he makes the journey, desire overflows in your belly, as you look down and see how swollen he is. 

Unable to resist you wrap your hand around him, he grunts in surprise as you stroke him. 

“Careful.” His voice is strained and you realise your calm and collected Benjamin Miller is as desperate and needy as you. 

He crawls up your body and you find yourself in the missionary position, you don't have time to smile at how domestically quaint it is. Before the tip of his cock is rubbing along your clit; once, twice before he lines up and breaches the walls of your cunt. 

It's a tight fight and its slow going. 

You’re newly healed and he’s considerate, though his commentary makes you think the slow pace may also be for his benefit.

“Fucki- shit– you’re fucking tight angel. Tighter than before - fuck, I’m not gonna last.” Inch by delicious inch, you swallow him up.

“Fuck Benny, I forgot how good you-” His hand covers your mouth as hes finally sheathed fully inside of you - he’s fighting for his life not to come early. 

You’re utterly full of him, as your legs wrap around his lithe hips, you’re desperate for him to move.

Finally, he asks; control seemingly regained after a moment or two of splitting you open. “You okay… no pain?”

“I’ll be a whole lot better if you fuck me.” You retort cheekily, to which he grins and kisses you hard as his hips pull back nearly all the way before he spears you with his cock. 

Benny’s thick member drags against your walls, making your eyes roll back at the sheer size of him; your fingers and toys hadn’t done him justice. 

Benny’s hand dips to your cunt, seeking out your bundle of nerves. Which he finds with a combination of his expert touch and his intricate knowledge of your body.

Driving hard into you, you feel the pressure building again, before a tidal wave of pleasure overtakes you. 

“Fuck, Benny…” You have enough about you to remember to whisper as you plea. “Oh fuck- I’m gonna come.”

“Let go, Angel.” He continues his steady rhythm continuing to grind his cock deep inside of you. It hits you like a truck as your whole body clenches around him - a guttural moan leaves your body and your legs lock around his body whilst your heels find purchase in the dimples above his ass. 

Benny’s pace slows but doesn’t stop as he leisurely rolls his hips to draw out your climax. He kisses you deeply, his tongue is slow and deliberate as he explores the plains of your mouth. This intimacy had never been afforded to you, this slow love making, it was new terrain and you fucking loved it. 

With his cock still buried deep inside of you, Benny pulls away licking along your neck. One hand rises from where it had been leisurely playing with your nipple to push your displaced hair behind your ear. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous when you come, your pussy gets so fuckin’ tight.” He tells you, your eyes locking with his baby blues. “...and you’re gonna’ give me another one.”

“Benny … I-” You pant as you’re already straddling the line between pleasure and overstimulation. 

He shushes you, as he begins picking up his pace. His filthy words help build you back up to your peak when he suddenly draws back, pushing your knees up against your chest and a pillow under your hips. This new position drives him deeper and harder with his own knees powering his thrusts. 

“Fucking sweet mother of-” His hand covers your mouth and your moans are drowned out by Ben’s heavy breathing of exertion and slapping of skin on skin. 

“Baby.” He whispers breathily, reminding you of your snoozing dependant in the corner as he continues to pound relentlessly into your core. 

Ben's hands grab at your hips holding you in place as you do everything in your power to angle yourself up and get him as deep as you can. You swear your eyeballs have rolled back into your head permanently as your hands find the headboard, pushing yourself back up and into him, somehow he manages to burrow even deeper. 

“Fuck -” He grunts, his skin is now bathed in a dew of sweat as his long blonde locks fall forward onto his forehead. His eyes are clenched as he chases his pleasure, still fighting it off so that you get there first. 

“Fuck baby … fuck, I need you to come.” Benny groaned. “Give me something nice and tight to come into.”

He needn’t have asked twice. 

The combination of his filthy words, the world devastating thrusts making his balls slap rhythmically against your ass and his practised thumb drawing shapes on your clit had your world shattering once more. 

Benny buried his face in your neck as he came, filling you up whilst you clenched around him with one hand wrapped in his hair and your toes curling against his chest. 

Lingering for a moment, he shifted, keeping himself still inside of you, letting your joints relax either side of you.

The two of you basked in the closeness of one another, time seemed to slow as you lay there stroking Ben Miller's blonde locks as he flourished your chest in kisses with his cock slowly softening inside of you. 

Two Months Later

“Ben … come on we’re going to be late! He’s proposing and if we’re not there he’ll kick your ass.”

“Why my ass?” Your boyfriend questions as he walks down the hall whilst simultaneously knotting his tie. 

“I’m the mother of his favourite niece, he can’t hurt me.” 

“No need to burn Mariana like that, Baby.” He smirks, placing a light kiss on your lips.

“You should’ve heard what that little shit said about my shoes yesterday…” Your feuds with the youngest Morales were both passionate and seemingly never ending. 

Grabbing him by the mess of his tie, you undo his shoddy work. 

“Who’s holding us up now?!” He huffs, though there's ample teasing behind his tone. 

“Oh shush.” You reply whilst you adjust it.  Benny's long arms snake around your waist to rest on your lower back before he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. 

It starts off sweet, honestly! It's nothing more than a peck really, before his tongue presses against your lips and his hands have the meat of your ass squeezed in his palms now somehow underneath your sundress. 

Pushing against his shoulders, you remove yourself from temptation. 

“Did I tell you you look like a fuckin’ angel today?” He murmurs against your throat as he places kisses along the neckline of your dress. “ … C’mon, back of the truck… we can make it to Will’s next engagement.”

“That’s mean.” You huff, knocking his cap off his head before grabbing the car key and the baby. 

He snickers as he grabs his belongings from the dish on the side table preparing to leave the house, it's as you’re just about to cross the threshold with your daughter in your arms that he speaks again.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You pause for a moment utterly stunned at the words you'd been dying to hear for the past 10 years.  For all of two seconds you contemplate taking him back upstairs.

“I know.” You simply reply, schooling your face to show none of the emotions currently coursing through your veins.

The booming laugh that follows you out of the house makes absolutely everything worth it. 

THE END.

[pessimisticoptimistsblog]

A/N: So I finally rewatched the pilot and realized that the extermination happened before the interview Charlie did 🤦‍♀️ BUT! I’m just going to roll with it being set up my way because it’s honestly not a huge factor imo. Anyway, here’s chapter 2!

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 2

Deal With the Devil

It had been 2 days since the annual extermination, and Madame C and Nia were taking the final calls confirming their clients were all accounted for. It had been close with a few of the more reckless sinners, but thankfully, only a couple of scrapes and bruises had been reported. The real scare had been the inane turf-war on the west side that resulted in a hell hound being put out of work for at least a month. He had been new and inexperienced and made a stupid mistake, resulting in Madame C having to reorganize her roster to cover for his absence. White gloved hands dragged down her shadowed face, the stress from the last few days, and her upcoming meeting with the king of hell himself had made for a headache that pulsed behind her eyes. Nia could feel her boss’s frustration practically rolling off of her, but the she-wolf just focused harder on doing the final check-in.

“Fiona and Gus are good - their charge is accounted for with no issues. And that was the last client we needed to account for! No sinners lost this year, so everyone will get a 1% increase on their next renewal and we all get our bonuses! Yes! I’ve been looking forward to this, got a new bike I’ve had my eyes on for a while now.” Nia began to ramble on about the specs of the motorcycle she hoped to buy as Madame C relaxed back into her chair and watched the she-wolf become more and more animated.

The shadow demon was glad her assistant had found a bright side; Madame C hated any hiccups on extermination days, but at least this year was minor and she could now place her focus on her meeting with Lucifer tomorrow. Time had flown these last few days, her nerves becoming more frazzled as the meeting grew closer. If Lucifer couldn’t help her, at least then she’d know her only hope would be God which meant being voiceless would be forever; but if he just wouldn’t help… well, she’d rather not think of how she’d respond.

Nia closed her notebook loudly startling Madame C out of her thoughts, “Welp, that’s it for all this, boss! I think we’re done for today, a little early too. Should give you plenty of time to prepare whatever speech you plan on giving tomorrow since we both know you probably won’t sleep!” The she-wolf gave a wry grin to her boss, the woman barely slept as it was, it was no doubt her current state of mind had left her unable to rest.

*I’ve had a speech planned for almost 300 years, I’m over-thinking it at this point,” a small grin from Madame C as she paused her hands for a moment. *I do agree, we should stop for today. An early night may help me get some sleep.*

“Can’t argue with the boss! An early night sounds fucking great, I’ve got a couple sleeping pills from Sloth I’ve been dying to try. Don’t worry, though, I won’t be late tomorrow!” During her talk, Nia had gathered her purse and begun heading towards the office doors. Before exiting she looked back at Madame C one last time, “Try to get a little sleep, okay? I’ve got a feeling you’re gonna need all the energy you can get.” And then the hell hound was gone, leaving the shadow demon to gather the rest of the papers on the desk before heading to the file room.

After placing the files in their proper spots and grabbing an energy bar from the kitchen, Madame C headed to the basement where a small gym had been installed as a perk for her employees. And at the very back of the room stood a door only she had a key for, her private studio. After living in hell as long as she had, the shadow demon’s home had been destroyed and rebuilt more times than she cared to remember. This room had stood the test of time, though, and now stood at the base of her building in Pentagram City, protected on all sides by thick concrete and other rooms beyond that. It was the only room Madame C lifted her shadows, besides her room and the curtains were always closed in there.

Locking the door behind her, the woman lifted he cloak of darkness before looking around at her personal sanctuary. The room was fairly plain, mats lined half of the floor for when she wanted to work out, the other half was wood with a small rack of weights, a rolled up yoga mat, a couple bo staffs, and a large mirror that took up most of the wall. Madame C began stretching her arms while looking in the mirror; without her shadows, she was reminded of how human she still looked. Her father had pushed her down here when she had just turned 17 and she had only aged a few years since now looking at most in her mid 20s. Her slow aging was the only perk she was happy to have inherited from her father. She had her mother’s upturned nose, green eyes she was told were her grandmother’s accompanied by dark circles that seemed permanent at this point, and was just over 5 feet tall. Her brown hair was still unruly, now reaching the middle of her shoulder blades. She hated it, her mother’s family all had light blonde hair, but brown hair was entirely her father’s contribution. Thankfully, the only other thing she got from her father were her wings that she always kept tightly pressed to her back.

Tying her hair back and removing her dress to reveal workout shorts and a sports bra, the young woman began to stretch eager to burn off some nervous energy.

~The next day~

Madame C and Nia stood on Lucifer’s doorstep having just knocked on the ornate door. “This place is kinda not as bad as I expected. Figured the king of Hell would have a fancier place, honestly. Not that this isn’t! It’s just, ya know, not what I imagined, that’s all. Also, like how long does it take for someone to op-“ the she-wolf’s nervous rambling was cut off as an imp opened the door before inviting the two women in. He led them up a set of stairs and down a couple hallways before stopping outside of a simple door. He knocked twice before opening it and letting Nia and her boss inside then bowed as he closed the door and left.

The walls were covered in portraits and photos of the royal family and the sins. Nia and Madame C glanced around taking all of them in as well as the desk and large chair sat in front of a floor length window with the curtains drawn closed. In the chair sat Lucifer, his head propped up on one fist while his other hand twirled a pen, boredom clear on his face. Madame C knew of the kings dislike for sinners so she hadn’t expected him to be excited, but his expression set her nerves alight all over again.

“Come, sit. Charlie said this was important, so tell me what it is you need and I’ll decide if it’s something I want to do,” Lucifer droned. His eyes appraised each woman, brows drawing together slightly at seeing one entirely cloaked in darkness.

Nia made it to her seat first with Madame C close behind. After settling, they looked at each other and Madame C began to sign while Nia interpreted. *I am known as Madame C amongst the sinners, you may just call me C if you like. I don’t know what your daughter has told you but I am here to ask if you know of a spell that could break a seal placed by a powerful man. He sealed half of my soul and my voice when I arrived in hell so that I would never be able to reveal his transgressions.* They had rehearsed this part on the drive here, but the demon’s hands still shook lightly, her chest already beginning to constrict from the seal. The two women watched as Lucifer rested his elbows on his desk and placed his chin on his clasped hands. He was staring Madame C down, searching for something, but the demon didn’t know what.

He seemed to have found what it was as he opened his mouth, a resolve clear on his face, “You’re hiding some pretty important details. Either tell me everything, or I won’t even consider helping.” A scowl was set on his face now, and the female demon knew she had no choice but to reveal all of her cards.

Nia reached over to grasp one white gloved hand to show her support. Slowly, the shadowy veil lifted from Madame C to reveal her true form covered in a knee-length, long-sleeved black dress with her hair tied back neatly into a bun, a couple pieces framing her face. She averted her green eyes to the floor, not ready to see anyone’s reaction to her.

Taking a slow deep breath, she began to sign again, *I was 17 when my father found me…*

~Flashback~

Year 1470

She could barely catch her breath, the man- no, the angel was faster than anyone she had ever ran from and he had finally cornered her. She stared at him in fear, wishing she had had more time to train her newfound wings, maybe then she could have escaped him. His eyes were furious, a scowl deep set on his face yet not a hair out of place. Not far behind him she saw a petite woman, another angel judging by her wings, with short white hair catching up as well. Together, their golden eyes held the young girl frozen in place, she knew she was caught.

“Ya know, your mom was a real bitch. What kind of ‘good Christian’ woman seduces an angel? Props to her for actually having you, I guess, but you being alive ain’t really good for my image. Half-breeds aren’t allowed as is, but especially mine? The big-wigs definitely wouldn’t look past that. So unfor-“ Adam was cut off abruptly.

“What are you talking about?! How can you be my father? My mother said my father was a farmer, not an angel. And she would never lie to me! Who even are you?” The girl was yelling by the end, out of breath once again with green eyes wide and confused.

The two angels approached again, the girl toppling back, trying to maintain distance. “Who am I? Bitch, I’m Adam! THE first man, the original man! Also, the reason you’ve got those little wings starting to grow out of your back there, but that doesn’t matter. I’m fucking important, and I can’t have a half-breed ruining what I’ve got up in heaven. Sooo, Lute, you wanna take over?” Adam held his hand toward the other angel now know as Lute as a sadistic grin came over her face.

“We’re going to send you to hell where you belong. And we’re going to make sure you never tell another soul anything. Ever. Again!” Lute grabbed the girl by her shirt collar, lifting her off the ground and closer to her face. “Maybe, if you’re lucky, your whore mommy will still be down there. She probably died again, though, so don’t get your hopes up,” Lute’s grin was sadistic, showing no remorse.

A portal opened under them, Lute flying in, still holding Adam’s daughter with Adam close behind. They landed in a barren area of the pride ring on the outskirts of the growing Pentagram City, the white-haired angel throwing their captive to the hard ground. Adam pulls a book out of his white robes and flips straight to an ear-marked page. His eyes scanned the page, head nodding as he read it over, “Alrighty, just need to draw this thing on your chest - Lute, you mind ripping this shit?” Adam motioned to the young girl’s chest covered by a high necked dress. Lute complied immediately, the girl barely fighting, still in shock by everything happening. “Cool! Now, I just do a little this, and that… What’d you say your name was again? Need that for the seal,” he stared expectantly.

“C-Caelwen. But please-“

Adam didn’t give her a chance to finish before he pushed her back into the ground and motioned Lute to hold her shoulders down. “Listen, kid, I can’t have this reaching heaven. I’ve got a great gig up there, and you’re not gonna ruin it. And I can’t exactly kill you, so this will have to do. Just stay still and let me finish this shit so Lute and I can get the fuck out of here, okay?” Adam didn’t give her a chance to talk again, pricking his finger to add a drop of his blood to the seal he had drawn on her chest. He mumbled a few strange words and suddenly Caelwen felt a fiery heat surround her that began to rapidly squeeze her. It felt like it cut through her body before clenching around her heart. She tried to scream, but nothing came out.

After a couple minutes, the heat settled to a dull burn, and the girl looked to where her two captors stood watching her to make sure their plan had worked. She tried to ask what they had done, but again, nothing came out. Over and over, she tried screaming, yelling, crying, yet nothing escaped her. The angels looked down at her, grins nearly splitting their faces, it had worked.

“Listen, I hate to split before we can bond or whatever, kid, but I’ve got some important shit to take care of in heaven. So, get comfy. You’ll be spending the rest of your life here, unable to ever tell a soul what happened without killing yourself.” Adam’s aura had darkened, making the girl cower further into the ground. “Don’t worry, though! I’m sure a little demon will be along soon to kill you. Have fun!” With that, Lute and Adam flew off into a new portal leaving Caelwen on her own, her dress ripped, and a seal burned into her chest that was fading quickly. Everything hit her all at once, and she dissolved into sobs, wishing she could have stopped them somehow.

~End Flashback~

Madame C, Caelwen, clutched a hand to her chest, doubling over as tears threatened to fall. Her chest burned, and she was shaking, trying to hold in the pain she felt. She could only think it felt like having her heart ripped out with a hand consumed by fire. Nia reached out for her boss, distraught to see her boss in so much pain. Caelwen shakily waved her off, doing her best to sit back up and look towards Lucifer. She was taken aback at the man in front of her, unsure of how to take his response.

Lucifer was seething. He had known heaven wasn’t fond of Nephilim, they had outlawed their creation when the first one was simply proposed and any that were created had their souls reaped within their first 2 years of life by the angel of death. To know now that one had slipped under their radar just to be thrown into his domain and left for dead by her own heavenly father, he was pissed. Adam was a dick to begin with and now this? All to avoid the consequences of his actions.

Lucifer looked to the Nephilim in front of him, seeing her pained expression, he recalled the last part of her story and reached a clawed hand towards her hoping his abilities could lessen the effects of her seal. Once she seemed to relax slightly, Lucifer relaxed and reigned in his anger, he couldn’t hurt Adam due to their agreement, but he could certainly do his part to make the cocky angel pay. “I can’t say for certain that I have the exact book we’ll need, but I will do everything in my power to help you. Unfortunately, if I don’t have what we need, it’s most likely in heaven and it takes time to get a meeting with them if they’re not interested.” Lucifer reached across his desk for Caelwen’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “For tonight, you can sleep here- in a guest room so I can make sure the curse on that seal doesn’t have another wave. And tomorrow, we can start searching the archives. Miss. Nia, you are welcomed to stay as well if you wish. But I do have a decent grasp on sign language if there are other matters you’re needed for?” The king looked between the two women for an answer.

*Go home and rest. Tomorrow you can handle my meeting with Velvette and cancel the others. I’ll call for you if we need you. Thank you. For everything* Caelwen then placed a hand on Nia’s knee, hoping to convey her gratitude the vest she could while still in pain.

Nia grasped her hand in reassurance, “Don’t worry boss lady, I can handle the mutts and assholes while you figure this out.” The she-wolf’s easy grin eased the other girls mind, she knew her assistant could more than handle the office and any bullshit their clients threw their way. Nia rose from her chair and headed towards the door, stopping to wave goodbye to her boss before leaving.

“Let’s get you into a bed so you can rest, okay?” Lucifer’s voice was gentle as he reached for the young girl, noticing her wings peaking out of her dress now that he was above her. Caelwen nodded, looking up at him before placing her hand in his outstretched one. Standing proved difficult as her legs shook and then gave out beneath the Nephilim, with Lucifer quickly scooping her up with a soft ‘I’ve got ya’. Seeing how exhausted the girl was, Lucifer opted to portal to a guest room near his own in case any problems arose during the night. Although it took no time at all, Caelwen was out cold when Lucifer laid her in down in the bed. Seeing her face relaxed in sleep, he could finally take in her features and couldn’t help but notice she certainly inherited the angelic beauty. A clawed hand reached out to brush a stray hair from her face before he quickly shook his head and portaled to his own room, they had a difficult task ahead and he’d need all the sleep he could get.

A/N – I have edited and reread this chapter so many times today. I’m still not completely happy, but if I don’t post it now I’ll scrap it and hate myself later. But, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Chapter 3 probably won’t be out until Saturday because of work, but maybe sooner, we’ll see.

Tag List:

@leximus98

[cosmiischillin]

Twilight Town AU: The Ragdoll Monster

In the original Ruby Gloom, Ruby was essentially the lone “human” of the group. She does live with a cyclops, a skeleton, a banshee, conjoined twins, ghosts, a bat, and three crows/ravens. In addition to Twilight Town, there’s also a witch and a fallen angel. Now I do say “human” with quotes since she’s described a lot as ragdoll-like if not straight up a ragdoll.

So I’m gonna describe and sorta layout what type of monster, my process in creating her, and what I have planned for her for y’all to read below.

The Ragdoll Monster

So in the AU, she is explicitly a living ragdoll. I think it’s a general agreed thing in the fanon that she is a ragdoll in the likeness of Raggedy Ann. To be honest she reminds me of Strawberry Shortcake a lot more.

With that in mind, I gave her all those little stitches on her body and even alongside her clothes since I think she looks adorable with the patchworks and wearing a lot of textile knits. I even made it a special ability that she can sew her body parts if she ever ends up injured though you’re better off not letting her bleed

The Dark Side

So it is planned already that Ruby is more than just a sweet looking face. This part of her design was based on the earlier versions of her character. The darker and very much goth version before the show. I was inspired by these snippets from an interview about her and some artwork of her

She also has a lot of inspiration from Coraline, in fact her eyes were gonna have little white spots to look like buttons but I couldn’t get them to look right hence her big eyes now.

Now for her really dark side and Lore. Her monstrous side is based on two things. One is the creep factor of dolls and puppets and the other is vampires.

I didn’t put him in her mood board but Ruby got some inspiration from Wally Darling such as his creepy little stare which gave me more ideas alongside the early ruby works.

Now the vampire part was added when I began concepting classic monsters into the AU. Out of nowhere I began to draw Dracula with a regular doll version of Ruby. I love the concept so I expanded it.

Lore and Backstory

Dracula and other vampires can turn humans by having them taste vampiric blood so, to test it out, Dracula got a baby ragdoll then injected his blood into the doll’s insides. Miraculously the ragdoll was brought to life though she appeared to be like a normal infant with an overly cheerful disposition. It was only then she showed abilities that not even vampires could possess. Dracula decided to name her Ruby and sewn up the rest of her appearance, calling her his daughter. At some point, Dracula hired the Raven brothers to leave his castle with Ruby to a place she could be safe from humans and to record anything new powers she develops.

Ruby has lived in the Twilight Town Mansion for now 17 years. She is upset that humans see monsters as nothing but evil and dangerous creatures that should be destroyed hence why she creates her new Blog, the Good n Gloom where she will be able to show that monsters are just like them If not a little creepy and kooky. But that doesn’t mean that when push comes to shove, she’ll do what she has to do in order to help her friends.

I hope you like this slightly longer post talking about Twilight Town! This is the first time I got to go in full about the lore and what has been done for these characters! I guess the vampires are kinda different from the classic movie version ^^:

Next Character: The Banshee

[ismellbitches]

A wip of an OC @bizlybebo inspired me to make. It’s sick ass oc Midas helped me break through some art block. I think I’m gonna do an “OCtober” where I make an oc for every JRWI campaign (except TMK bc I’m not fully caught up). I will be taking name/hero name suggestions btw and I’ll announce who won when I post the next OC. Backstory below!

He’s a 19yo freelance artist from New Haven. His parents just went through a really messy divorce, leaving his mother and four siblings in a bad situation financially. So, he put his transition and art school on hold to take up gigging to provide for them. Still, he was having trouble making ends meet, so he signed up for drug testing. Turns out, the medication he was trialing was actually a gene splicing program that caused him to (quite painfully) transform into a harpy like creature over the course of the treatment. It wasn’t long until the company came looking for him, eager to run tests and experiments to see how the gene therapy had contorted his body. One day, when they showed up at his sister’s school, waiting for him to come and pick her up, he drew the line. He ran away to Freedom City just in time to see it get destroyed by Atlas. He did the only thing he knew how to do; help. He started to airlift people out of the rubble and spot people human eyes couldn’t normally find. Since then, he accepted a “contract” from WATCH HQ; he’d be given a pay check (directly mailed to his mother and siblings back in New Haven), as well as training in exchange for providing “disaster relief” aid and local support in Freedom City. Now, he’s just trying to make it through the day, painting murals to earn some extra cash to start up his life again.

EDIT: HES DONEEEE

[mikhailwrites]

Soaring Ever Higher 1 - Ghoap/Ace Combat 7 crossover

Remember when I said it's gonna be a one shot? Yeah, me neither...

Ghost looks up, into the vast expanse of clear blue sky. To be honest, he never paid too much attention to it. His fight is and has always been on the ground. Now, he can’t help but wonder: how does being up there feel? There is no ground to support you, no cover to help you, no nothing, just you, the mission, and almost endless space. Is it freeing or terrifying? Maybe both? Maybe he will ask MacTavish, if they cross paths again...

This chapter on AO3 | Next chapter

„This is Bravo 0-7. I’m in position and ready,“ Ghost says into the com, crouching in the vegetation, trying his best to ignore a bead of sweat tracing his spine. Of all the places, the jungle is probably his least favourite. Everything around him slithers and crawls, the humid heat making him sweat gallons.

“Copy that, Bravo; ETA on Strider is T-minus seven minutes; be ready to paint the target,” Laswell informs him in her signature matter-of-fact manner.

Ghost takes the laser designator out of the backpack and mounts it on a tripod. The conditions are less than ideal; the sky is uniformly grey and overcast. It’ll be hard, if not impossible, for the laser to penetrate the clouds, and even then, there’s still a dense jungle that could thwart the attack. It’ll take a damn skilled pilot to make this work.

“Bravo 0-7, this is Strider 1 en route; how copy?” a new voice on the coms. Ghost’s eyebrow twitch in surprise as an unmistakable Scottish brogue greets him.

“Solid copy,” Ghost answers out of habit more than anything.

“Some taps-aff weather today, eh? I reckon I’ll be entering the OA in about three minutes.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, a behemoth of a jet emerges from the clouds like a bloody reaper surfacing from the Styx. Ghost has never seen a plane like that before, all sharp angles and planes of dark grey stealth coating. It looks like something from a sci-fi movie. And right behind it comes the thundering sound, unable to quite catch up to the plane.

“Strider 1 entering OA. I’m getting a solid reading on the laser, moving up to drop the package. You might want to turn around, LT,” the pilot warns as the jet closes in on the target. The drop is flawless, and Ghost doesn’t turn away despite the advice. The jet thunders by, and a few seconds later, the whole enemy base goes up in an eruption of fire, debris and smoke. The explosion shatters the building and shakes the ground. Ghost is grateful for his protective headset because it most probably just saved his hearing.

“Bloody hell!” Ghost shields his eyes as the shock wave reaches him and, with it, the gust of dust and dirt. The worst of the dust settles in, the jet gone, up above the clouds once more, as if it was never here in the first place, a spectre of destruction. “Bravo 0-7, confirming a direct hit.”

“Happy to hear that. Strider, Bravo, you’re RTB. Get out of there before the enemy regroups,” Laswell instructs, just as Ghost is packing the designator and prepares to trek back through the jungle to the RV, where the helo will be waiting to pick him up.

No sooner than he starts to think the mission’s been a breeze, the bullets start flying. The base is destroyed, but apparently, what’s left of the enemy managed to regroup rather quickly. Ghost curses and immediately lifts his rifle as he scurries through the dense vegetation, hoping to lose the tail. There’s no telling how many are onto him, but it doesn’t matter; he’s alone, and that’s some crappy odds he doesn’t want to test.

“This is Bravo 0-7. I’m in a hotspot, multiple tangos on me,” he hurriedly explains his situation just as a bullet chips away at the tree not even a few feet from him. He has no choice but to throw himself on the ground to make himself the smallest target possible. “Fuck!”

“Break the contact and proceed to the RV!” Laswell urges him.

As much as he’d love to heed her words, he’s pinned down. “Negative, Watcher 1, I’m stuck!”

“I can turn around and make a sweep; he’s got the IR tag; I’ll see him and can provide support,” Strider cuts into the conversation.

“You’re RTB, Strider 1; do not stray from the course!” yet another voice, male, older. Perhaps Strider’s CO.

“I’m not leaving him there if I can help!” Strider 1 argues, sounding more irritated than agitated.

“That was a direct order, Strider. Return to base immediately! You are not armed for close air support!”

“I still have the 20mm; that’s more than enough! Re-entering OA in two minutes!”

Ghost doesn’t say anything, but he’s bloody grateful for Strider’s help, insubordination or not. Carefully, he turns and dusts one tango he has in his sights. There’s plenty more as another salvo of bullets flies over his head.

“ETA thirty seconds, Ghost; hang in there, soldier!” Strider says, sounding breathless.

“I’m going to have your ass for this, Trigger!” the man on comms shouts.

Ghost is almost tempted to say something at that point. Luckily, the grey war beast makes a hell of an entrance right then. Ghost’s only warning is a shout of “incoming!” as the fighter swoops in from the left and spreads some 20mm cheer across the jungle—the vegetation yields. The enemies do, too. The jet is gone, leaving an ungodly amount of devastation in its wake. Only to make a second pass from the right moments later. Strider had to pull off some serious high-G turn to be that fast.

It paid off, though. There’s not a single living thing near Ghost.

“I’m in the clear, heading to RV now; thanks for the air support, Strider 1. Much appreciated, mate,” Ghost says as he’s finally on his way from this hellhole.

#

Ghost can’t leave it alone. He wants to thank the man properly, so after a lengthy mission report, during which he hasn’t forgotten to stress that Strider saved his life, he heads to the hangar. Sure enough, the aircraft is there. Up close, it looks even stranger. Like it shouldn’t even be able to fly, let alone be capable of stuff Ghost had witnessed earlier that day. The jet is huge and imposing; short, diamond-shaped wings and vertical stabilizers placed on the outer edges of the craft only enhance the overall alien look. Ghost also notices distinct white decals on its vertical stabilisers: three scratches and a clawed paw. It feels familiar, yet he can’t honestly remember why. Maybe he overheard someone talking about it, or maybe his mind is playing tricks on him.

“Bonnie lass, ain’t she?” someone asks from behind his back. The voice is a little familiar now. Simon turns around to put a face to it. And is surprised. Pleasantly so. The man is a bit shorter and well-built, obviously fit, but that goes without saying. You can’t sustain high-G manoeuvres without some proper muscles and strength. His face is pleasant, too, thin lips curling in a smile. He looks like a father proudly displaying his offspring. Only the “kid”, in this case, is a multimillion-pound war machine. Ghost pauses his inspection on the mohawk. How cliché is that? Yet, it suits the man.

“What is it even?”  slowly, he turns back to the plane.

“An old prototype made for the Americans. They went with a different plane in the end, the F-22. The two of these were meant for some sort of museum or whatever. Got a chance to rescue one, so I did,” Strider shrugs, looking at the plane almost lovingly.

Ghost hums in contemplation. The plane looks like a prototype, alright. But whatever does the Strider even mean by rescuing it? How do you rescue a jet? And why? “What’s your name?”

That seems to get the pilot’s attention. For a split second, he looks confused, then bursts into laughter. “Aye, that’s fair, boasting about my plane, and I haven’t even introduced myself.” He walks closer, extending his right arm. Ghost shakes it, noting the firm grip. “John MacTavish, call-sign Trigger.”

“Ghost,” Ghost replies, not bothering with his name and surname as he suspects Trigger already knows. “Thanks for… earlier.” The Lieutenant nods to show his appreciation further. Trigger truly saved his ass back there. What an apt call-sign, too.

“Don’t mention it. You needed a backup, and I was close by,” Trigger waves his hand to dismiss the gratitude, looking almost sheepish as if anyone would do the same. Ghost knows only too well it’s not true.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” Ghost reminds him, having a very clear idea about the reprimand and possible disciplinary actions that awaited John.

“I value life over the orders, anytime, and from what I’ve heard about you, I think you understand,” suddenly, Trigger’s face became unreadable, blue eyes searching Ghost’s own for… something.

The Scot is not wrong, but how exactly does he know? He has no idea. Ghost’s notoriety comes mostly from the mystery behind his mask and his combat skill. Sticking up for his teammates is usually not part of the legend.

At first, Ghost thought MacTavish to be yet another flamboyant hothead. Fighter pilots are an odd bunch, all of them. Yet MacTavish seems different, somehow. As if he wants to fit the stereotype; wants the people to see him for someone he’s clearly not. Why? Ghost has no idea. There seems to be a growing number of ‘whys’ around the man, and Ghost would be lying if he said he’s not intrigued. “I do, which also means that I can appreciate the sentiment all the more.”

“Tell you what, if you really want to thank me, how about you buy me a drink? I’m parched!” Trigger proposes, and the smile is back on his handsome face.

Ghost has a pretty good idea about where this is heading, but there are not many reasons not to pursue it. The bloke is interesting, entertaining, and easy on the eyes. If he’s game, then Ghost is, too. And if he’s misreading the situation? Well, he deserves a drink anyway.

“Give me a few minutes. I’ll finish up here and meet you by the gate,” John says as he takes a rag and cleans an oil stain on the nose of his plane.

Ghost nods and heads out. The night has fallen while he was in the hangar, but the base and especially the tarmac are always well-lit.

Ghost waits by the gate, just like Trigger asked him to. However, it’s already been over thirty minutes, and there’s still no sign of John. Ghost gives it another ten before he comes to an inevitable conclusion that he’s been stood up. Ghost shakes his head in disbelief. In his thirty-odd years, this has to be the first.

The Lieutenant chuckles as he starts to the barracks.

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 19: Northern Lights

Author's Note

Word count: 8.2k

Read the rest here!

Operating on autopilot, you brush your teeth while a sense of existential dread settles just under your sternum. It's heavy, asphyxiating. Today was gonna be hard. Largely because you weren’t allowed to have a hard day since it’d been Damiano that had a crisis: relapse. He needed your support and you’re pondering the extent of this responsibility when the drug test on the back of the toilet catches your eye. Somehow, you’d forgotten about it.

Negative for everything. Except marijuana, which Dami had already disclosed. Overwhelmed, you slide down to the floor with your back against the wall. You didn’t feel anything. Not relief, nor anger. Not even disappointment. Stranger than numbness was the urge to cry when your eyes won’t even tear up. Standing upright then spitting out the foamy toothpaste, you stare at your reflection. Cry. If you’re gonna do it, do it. Because after this you need to be strong. So cry. Fucking cry. The tears don’t come. Your dry eyes burn, and despite sleeping relatively well, you look drained of life force.

In the name of coping mechanisms, you devote an extra five minutes to a makeup look that always makes you feel put together and pretty. Today it comes off as clownish. The blush is too intense and the eye shadow garish. There isn’t enough time to take it off and start again so you avoid looking in the mirror and shift focus to getting dressed. One thing at a time. Pairing this mantra with caffeine will likely be the only force propelling you through today. One thing at a time still feels like more than you could handle, but not functioning wasn’t an option, either. Your chest tightens.

“Hey, goodmorning.” Damiano’s voice startles you. He typically got up around when you left for work.

“Shit! What time is it?”

“It’s 8:07, don’t worry.” Dami harshly clears his throat twice, trying to get rid of his gravelly morning voice. It's almost an accurate replication of normalcy, except he won’t look at you. Damiano begins making espresso and his eyes briefly dart in your direction.

“What do you want for breakfast?” The moment’s cognitive dissonance is truly formidable. 

“I –” Obviously he was trying to make last night up to you. Should you accept? Do you even want to?

“I – no! No. You – we’re not just gonna skip to this part.” He looks so fucking wounded, a kind of woundedness that can only be achieved when you’re not expecting the pain. Only visible for a second, then he hides it. Still, you’re in agony.

“You – I need…I – don’t do that! Don’t make that fucking face at me. It’s been less than 12 hours and we were sleeping most of them. How can you reasonably expect me to have processed last night in less than 12 hours?”

“You’re right, it's not fair. I guess that I –”

“If you know it's not fair then why are you so fucking destroyed over it!? I can’t –” You stare out the window, thanking whatever cosmic entity may be that you can’t cry right now.

“I’m sorry.”

“No!” Your voice comes out high pitched and guttural in anguish. “No, don’t –” You stamp your foot. It was a childhood habit that you loathed, but still made an appearance in moments of emotionally charged exasperation.

“I’m sorry. I was just, I was just…” He trails off, staring at the floor. You stomp across the apartment and briefly strangle him in a hug. Dami is so surprised that by the time he embraces in return, you’re pulling away, keeping your gaze fixed on the chipped corner of the kitchen cabinets. Because meeting his eyes up close, even for a millisecond, might be more than you can bear. With a large step back, you attempt verbal communication.

“Don’t apologize for having an emotional reaction.”

“I’m sorry for relapsing.”

“That you can apologize for.” Next you stare at the catch all basket by the door and feel your face heat up. “I just can’t take you looking so devastated over me not wanting to play house right now.” Had you not demanded last night that he disclose the hardship of Substance Abuse Disorder to you? This morning he does so for all of two nanoseconds and you react like this. 

“No, I’m sorry. I take it back.” Of what you can see out of the corner of your eye, Dami’s expression is perplexed.

“You take what back?”

“That reaction. I want to know what you’re genuinely feeling right now. I want to support you through this.” You steel yourself before meeting his eyes, but Dami is, again, intent on staring at the ground. He presses his lips together while rapidly shaking his head.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t be, ugh…” Damiano sighs heavily. In the background, the water boils audibly. He returns to his task of making espresso while crafting a sentence. One hand is braced against the counter. It's the same hand that caressed the bare skin of your stomach last night. What the fuck had you been thinking? Even while disparaging yourself, you can feel how sturdy and reassuring and loving Damiano’s body was as it lay behind you. He couldn’t have pulled you any closer without undressing. And it felt so natural.

“You shouldn’t be consoling me. I’m the only one that should be apologizing, even if you’re angry, if you yell at me, whatever. And you don’t, ugh…” Dami uses the hand not bracing to gesticulate. “Supporting me through relapse doesn’t mean not being pissed at me. I – that reaction,“ he points towards the bathroom, “was perfectly fine. It was fine. I just wasn’t sure how to acknowledge what happened and be like ‘oh, hey! Sorry I relapsed. Can I make you breakfast? Not in I’m-making-amends-through-this-gesture-and-if-you-accept-I-will-expect-it-to-count-towards-my-forgiveness kinda way, but in a I’m-up-and-want-to-do-something-nice- for-you kind of way.” You take a beat to think and settle on meeting him in the middle.

“I will take an omelet and a double, please.”

“Okay.” He sighs in relief and sort of smiles. Also inhaling deeply for the first time since probably yesterday, you return your focus to getting ready. When selecting a pair of shoes, the safe at the bottom of the closet is a reminder to give Dami back his phone and keys. The memory of the night before comes crashing down; his suicidal ideation, how tortured he was by self-hatred. You end up on all fours, studying the scratched floor of your closet while weathering this rat’s nest of emotions.

You’d let Dami back into your life knowing relapse was inevitable and deciding it was an inevitability you were prepared for. However, he’d been so even keel since coming home that it made yesterday jarring as a reality check. 

“Hey, um,” he knocks on your bedroom door, tone uncertain.

“Come in.” You don’t feel short of breath until your voice comes out as such. Dami slowly opens the door, holding your plate and espresso.

“You okay?” 

“Just getting your stuff out of the safe.”

“Oh.” Awkwardly, he steps out of the room and turns his back. You’re so caught up that, on the first try, you enter in the wrong code. The safe beeps abrasively and a small light at the top of the keypad flashes red. On the second try you make a point not to be frantic and get it right. 

“Okay, here you go.” The metal door of the safe slams shut. Your nervous system is so fried that you jump, heartbeat skipping.

“Right.” Damiano swivels, both hands occupied with your breakfast just as both of your own hands are occupied with his belongings. In disjointed gestures you try to exchange the items before realizing it's physically impossible.

“Let's set it on the dining room table.”

“Right, yes. Good idea.” You cringe at the silence following Damiano putting the dishes down. “Um…okay, so now you will be late if you don’t leave soon, actually,” he calls from the kitchen.

“Shit!” You pull on your most well-worn pair of boots. Even scurrying around the apartment, they omit a sophisticated click each time the sole collides with the flooring. Upon making it to the door, you look back to see Dami sitting at the table and eating. In front of your empty chair is the untouched omelet and full cup of espresso he’d so tenderly made for you. The scene was reminiscent of a date night. As if he’d cooked dinner for two, then been stood up. So Damiano was left to eventually eat his meal all alone, after accepting you wouldn’t show. Cold food and wondering what he’d done wrong.

Dami isn’t reading into the moment at all. His down-turned eyes are preoccupied with his phone, but his words from last night are still fresher than a wound needing stitches. The phrase “do you a favor and throw myself off the roof” is running through your head on repeat, even when you try to direct your thoughts elsewhere. In fact, Damiano was standing almost exactly where you are now when he’d said it. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Your voice comes out frail and shaking, so much so that Dami’s head snaps up.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll be fine.” Sweetheart. He misses the slip-up because he’s preoccupied by concern, setting his fork down to examine you. “I’m just gonna treat it like any other day: eat this, work out, go to treatment.” Unable to feel your face, but aware that this is an appropriate time to nod, you consciously perform the gesture. “I mean, obviously, I don’t feel good right now, but I’ll be okay. A lot of rehab was focused on getting back on the wagon, so to speak.”

“‘Kay.” 

“Like, I hate myself right now, but I’m not gonna throw my sobriety away and go on a bender or something. Because I know that ultimately I’ll end up feeling so much shittier. Try not to worry.” He smiles in good humor: knowing, gentle, calm. “I’m sure you will anyways, but you don’t need to.” The difference in Damiano’s temperament since devoting himself to treatment is suddenly so evident. His chest isn’t puffed out with bravado, speaking from the perspective that he’s less fallible than your typical mortal. He’s not manic, you realize.

“You’re sure?” Dami’s conciliatory expression is brimming with empathy. 

“Yes, my love,” he placates, then catches himself. “Erm – y/n, sorry. Basically, I…I’ve examined my behavior a lot. Not just in the sense of hurting people, but also – I’m totally springing this on you, so I’ll skip to the point. As a person, I am done behaving that way, okay? So you’ll go to work; I’ll go to therapy where they’ll probably treat me like a pipe bomb. Then we’ll complain about how shitty our days were while eating takeout.” After the alarming way he’d spoken last night, it was a relief to hear Damiano genuinely sound like himself. The steady, resilient version of himself that predated addiction and the omnipresent hysteria.

You’d been holding out for it, gazing into the sky every night as if searching for the Northern Lights. Damiano acting like the man you fell in love with again – despite the incognizance with which he did so – was worthy of exactly this display. Opulent shades of violet and greens so electric they become yellow hurtling across a midnight canvas with the abandon of a child first learning to dance.

“Are you okay?” You’re about to say yes, out of habit, then realize that you could choose honesty over politeness and admit that the answer is no. But what’s the result? Being late for work and, in the process, interrupting Damiano’s routine. He needed the control and predictability his schedule offered, now more than ever. Allowing him to expend even an ounce of this precious resilience on comforting you was downright irresponsible. Dangerous, even, because you had no idea how much tranquility the day’s events would require. 

But it wasn’t that simple. Concealing your emotions had previously fueled communication failures which contributed to breaking up. Logically, mending things meant doing the opposite. Damiano’s simple question left you to choose between his sobriety and your relationship. The choice was obvious. You’d made it before. It was the exact choice presented to you at the time of the breakup. An event from which you feel so far removed, that it might have happened in a past life. Simultaneously, in this moment, the pain is fresh enough to sting, as if it was merely yesterday that your heart was mercilessly cleaved in two.  You want to scream, out loud, how the fuck did we end up here again? 

“Y/n?” He cocks his head then his eyebrows furrow. You remind yourself that Damiao is not your boyfriend. You cannot expect him to provide the level of comfort and support a primary partner would. If you needed it, then too fucking bad, you’d have to get it elsewhere. This was a decision you made, a boundary you’d set. Because a stronger version of the fragile girl quivering by the front door knew that Damiano solely focusing on his own wellbeing was necessary for his sobriety. So you try to pull it together and decide on reaching out to Sam during lunch break. They had the wisdom of someone twice their age with the inner serenity to match.

“Hey.” Damiano stands upright, rounding the corner of the table. The sound of the chair legs against the floor makes you flinch, breaking your train of thought. Holding a hand out, you stop Dami from approaching.

“I feel guilty for not having time to eat  the breakfast that you made me. I really don’t want to start out today with you feeling rejected or lonely and end up reaching for substances to cope.”

“I don’t feel rejected and just the thought of liquor makes me nauseous, right now.”

“Liquor…you know liquor isn’t the only thing I’m worried about.”

“Well, frankly, the other stuff is a lot harder to get, especially if you’re not willing to poison yourself. It's also fucking expensive in Rome, so I’d have to be carrying around a fuck ton of cash and look." Damiano picks his wallet up from the table and opens it. The only currency that falls out are some coins and a two dollar bill Victoria gave him for good luck. “The fuck am I gonna get with this?” He holds it up, almost grinning until he examines your features and realizes that this has been the opposite of reassuring. Dami immediately picks up on turmoil brewing beneath the surface, but little does he know that it’s more like a cataclysm. 

“You’re thinking about it.” It's a struggle to force the words out, like your body doesn’t want them to be true.

“Last night I was, yeah.” He admits it quietly, but his whole demeanor changes. Dami felt triumphant a moment ago, for not using drugs, not giving himself the means to acquire drugs. Instead of validating his achievement, you’d disregarded his triumph and replaced it with a profound feeling of defeat. It was quite literally the worst thing you could have done.

“And I know it – that I, um…” Dami sighs, nervously switching his weight back forth. “God damn it. So last night was one of my lowest moments and I really, really fucking wish you weren’t there to see it because it's not representative of who I am or how I feel. What I – baby, those were just thoughts. They were just thoughts, I promise.” His voice is so fond that your heart hurts. “I don’t ever plan on acting on them. I’m not gonna hurt myself. I know I really scared you when I said –”

“Mm mm!” You gesture for him to stop talking while squeezing your eyes shut and turning away. The urge to cry creates pressure in your throat, but the tears won’t come. So it feels like you might choke or be sick. 

“Take a deep breath,” Damiano coaches after falling silent for a moment. You comply, grounding yourself via powerful inhales through your nose, exhaling out of your mouth. It was adjacent to a breathing technique you’d learned in yoga. The feeling mostly passes.

“Okay. I can’t talk about this right now.”

“Of course.”

“I want to talk about it. I will talk about it. I just need…”

“Time to process.” He finishes your thought after observing several seconds of you staring at the ceiling, searching for the right words.

“Yes. All I want in the entire world right now is for you to focus on yourself. Get stable, do things that make you happy. Don’t worry about me.”

“...okay.” Damiano scrunches his nose up while slowly turning away, as if he’s biting back the words he’d like to say.

“Okay.” You pick up your keys and double check that you haven’t forgotten your phone. “So, I’ll see you –”

“I am worried. About you, I am worried.” The silence hangs over your heads like a noose. “You’ve got so much going on internally that I can’t read you. We’ve been together for so long that it’s really unsettling.” You’re at a loss for how to respond. “You used to be so forthright with me. Like absolutely transparent until…until things started going downhill.” Dami shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders raised in a defensive gesture. “And I want to take things at your speed. I want to fucking – to be transparent with you. But you, you…” He sighs heavily and relaxes, turning his gaze towards the window where morning light is seeping in.  

“What?” 

“I know we said we would wait until things weren’t so in flux, which –” he laughs bitterly.. “Which, god damn, I somehow made worse last night.” Damiano’s eyes return to the floor, where the big toe of his right foot is nervously tracing the seams. “I think, for my sanity, we need to look at the R.A.S. again and really talk.” R.A.S. is an abbreviation for what has been dubbed the Relationship Anarchist Smorgosboard – essentially a map of all possible relationship components. Often, polyamorous folks – yourselves included – used it as a tool to precisely define everyone’s desires and expectations. For you and Dami, the topic of non-monogamy actually resulted from discussions about relationship anarchy. So the request isn’t the issue. It's productive and healthy, even considering the metric ton of emotional labor. The strain with which Dami says “for my sanity” however, makes you nervous.

“Yeah, okay, uh…”

“Fuck me,” he groans, rubbing his face harshly. “Maybe I don’t wanna do this now. After yesterday I – you’re not gonna – I just destroyed all fucking progress!”

“I, I…I don’t know how I feel, Damia. But, obviously we don’t have to have this big heavy talk if you’re not ready for it.”

“That's not what I’m saying,” he snaps. Your left hand starts to shake at the agitation in his voice. If he gets upset, it’ll interrupt the routine keeping him intact. What will he use to deescalate then? 

“Have you taken your meds?”

“Y/n, I –” Dami’s tone is venomous and biting, but he stops himself from lashing out mid-sentence. He goes into the bathroom and takes his lithium, hands gripping onto the edge of the counter as he swallows painfully. He takes a second to manage his anger, meaning that exactly what you were trying to avoid is happening. He’s burning through that precious resilience for your sake. Each second that you watch the sharp outline of his clenched jaw, you wonder if this was the moment that Damiano dips into reserves that he needed for later in the day. 

What if he drinks again? Or worse, uses coke? Heroin? What if he goes on a bender then we don’t talk again for three months? What if he OD’s and permanently damages himself? What if he dies? It will be my fault. What if the resilience that could have prevented it is being used up this very second, right before my eyes? What if I’m signing his death sentence with my mere presence? 

“The reason I want to renegotiate isn’t really because I need to renegotiate.” Damiano speaks while still standing in the bathroom. Out of something adjacent to survival instincts, your mind has plunged you into disassociation. He may sound steadfast, but his voice barely cuts through the mental fog.

“It’s more that I want to clarify exactly where the boundaries are. So I know what I can ask because…” Dami pauses to rinse his face. The sound of water landing on the porcelain is eerily distorted from the disassociation. “Sometimes we are so connected. Like last night, not just when we were cuddling, but when you were genuinely pissed at me. I could feel your anger. You let me feel it, but then this morning you’re so far away. I don’t know what planet you’re on and we were never like that before, ever. Even at the very end, you were more present than you sometimes are now. I’m not trying to criticize you, I’m really not, but…” You force your eyes to focus when Dami goes quiet. He’s just brushing his teeth. He’s okay. 

“But I just want you to let me in and I don’t know if I can ask that as a nesting partner. Even when you’re submitting, there's like 15% you’re holding back. And I get that it's a trust issue, but when we were on the bed,” the faucet is running again. The sound is still detached from reality. “With just a vibrator between us, you let me in completely and it was amazing. Not just because of the sex! There’s other moments where we’re intimate emotionally and then this wall just comes up. It's so sudden that I don’t think you’re doing it intentionally. But I don’t know, you tell me.” Silence. Your chest hurts. “Sorry that I’m making you late for work.” Work? The anxiety of obligation yanks from inside your ribcage. Work!

You try to get a grip on reality, but have to compromise for a grip on the countertop. As soon as you begin coming back into your body, the necessity for air is overwhelming. But you can’t breathe and you’re so fucking dizzy that you can’t even focus on sustaining the most basic of bodily functions. So you try to grab the countertop again and miss again.

“Y/n?” He knows you wouldn’t just leave, unannounced. So Dami pauses his morning routine to check if you’re out of ear shot or giving him the silent treatment. Upon seeing your blanched face and restricted breathing, he feels like a dumbass for not considering the obvious third option: panic attack.  

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay, baby.” Damiano throws distinctions between boyfriend and nesting partner to the wind while taking you into his embrace. “You’re gonna be fine, piccola mia. Come here. C’mere, baby.” He hugs you loosely, but the arms around your middle are snug as Dami pulls you onto his lap, perched on the edge of the couch. For a few seconds the dissociation lingers and you don’t have control of your limbs. What follows is much worse. There's deep, intrusive stabbing pains in your chest as you fight for air. 

“You can breathe, baby. You can breathe, your body just forgot how for a second.” His tone is so calm and even, having perfected this skill over the years.

“Can’t.” Your ironclad grip on your purse finally fails and the sound of its contents hitting the floor then scattering is so that loud you shudder. “Can’t!”

“Yes, you can, piccola mia.” Finally, you regain control of your limbs, wrapping your arms around Dami while pressing your face against his shoulder. This isn’t close enough, so you turn chest to chest and wrap your legs around him too. He gives you just enough space to readjust, no communication necessary since Dami predicted this reaction. Panic attacks made you clingy when they made others claustrophobic.

“My little koala bear,” he coos. For a moment, it feels like someone’s lodged a dagger in your lungs and you cry out, intending to say his name. But, for days, you were forced to constantly implement life or death boundaries when doing so is in direct conflict with your very nature. The resulting strain morphed into blinding fear that, in holding power, you’d destroy what you loved most. What you needed as an animal, amongst a world constantly delivering over-stimulating levels of novel information. So the name – or more accurately the plea – that comes out, at 8:31 AM, is his honorific.

“Did you say ‘Daddy?’” He barely misses a beat. You nod, all the color returning to your cheeks as a blush. “Awe, do you need Daddy to help you calm down? Well, I’m right here, topolina.” He runs a hand up your spine and under your hair to firmly grasp the back of your neck. It wasn’t restricting anything, the gesture was about control. Specifically, to indicate that you had none.

“Listen to me.” His tone of voice makes you shiver. It’s just as firm as the grasp of his warm, muscular hand. “No, keep breathing. I didn’t tell you to hold your breath.” You gasp for air, hyperventilating. Damiano tsks, tucking your hair back so he can put his mouth directly to the shell of your ear. “Piccola mia, listen to me.” He dips into a baritone while whispering, breath fluttering against your eardrum. “Feel this?” Dami squeezes the back of your neck. “Mine. I decide how you breathe.” 

Oxygen. It's the first and last thing most humans have control of and he just rips that away, wholesale. Your mind is so relieved that it finally lets you cry, feel. Dami softens, slowly rocking back and forth, the same way you soothe a cholicky baby.

“Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here.” He repeats the phrase in a sing-song voice between counting the pace of your breath out loud. “We’re gonna start with four. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.” 

“Daddy,” you croak, twisting the fabric of his shirt around your fingers. It's an ugly sound, revealing just how desperate you feel. Desperate to do right by him. Desperate to keep him sober, even though you know that, ultimately, it was out of your control. But it couldn’t be out of control because you couldn’t lose him again now that you’d remembered how much you needed him. Now that you stopped subsisting on scraps in the form of memories. During the split, it had been heartbreaking to recall the dysfunctionality. Even more heartbreaking, however, were reminders of a joy more potent than you’d ever felt in your adult life.   

“Daddy, I…” need you. I’m ready to admit that you are an essential piece to the ever changing puzzle that is my life. But you can’t get the words out before the urge to sob takes over, so end up omitting a wounded whine, like when you trip over an excited dog and accidentally step on its tail.

“Oh, piccolo mia,” he laments. Apparently the noise was just as painful to hear as it was to make. You tighten your legs around Dami’s hips, knowing full well it's probably too much. He throws caution to the wind and pulls up the back of your blouse, untucking it from your pants. His hand is clammy from nerves when it touches your back.

“I’m right here. Daddy is right here, giving you all his attention. And the only thing you need to do is breathe with me.” With the movement of Dami’s hand on your skin, you begin falling into his rhythm. There's no penalty when you choke up or make a mistake. Damiano rubs circles on your back at the exact same pace with which he counts. You’re grateful that he knows not to set it on your butt or flank today. Once you’re calmer, he moves up to six counts, then eight. 

“I love you.” It’s the first thing you say when the eight counts feel manageable. “I – I need you.”

“You need me?” Dami is so pleased that his voice sounds like a warm blanket. He readjusts the position so your eyes can meet. Realizing this moment has to end, you begin clawing your way to the surface. The further you are out of subspace, the less his leaving will hurt. Damiano’s face visibly falls.

“There. You just did it. You were totally present with me then you put a wall up.”

“Don’t let go of my neck!” The words are so rushed they’re barely discernible.

“Topolina, I will never discipline you like that.” Your bottom lip trembles, but you keep your eyes on him because it's grounding. “I will never ever be callous with my sweetest Little Girl.” His words and the earnestness which accompanies them unlock a vault in your mind. It’s so well concealed that you’d hidden it from yourself, and for good reason, apparently. Every notable memory of submission to Dami comes rushing back, all at once. The hand on your neck shifts, almost negligible.

“Not ready!”

“And I’m not letting go,” he responds in his softest voice, overflowing with affection. “I’m just kissing your forehead, silly goose.” Damiano uses his grip to pull you a couple centimeters closer and tilt your head down. “Mwah! Mwah, mwah. See?” He makes theatrical noises as his lips meet your skin. It's an effort to make this stressful moment lighthearted, but your hands continue clenching the fabric of his t-shirt. When Dami moves to kiss your cheeks, he ends up wiping a couple stray tears away. You hadn’t felt them fall.

“Undo your fists. I’m not going anywhere.” Uncurling your hands takes some effort. You splay them across Damiano’s back to feel his heartbeat. Again, you’re stuck between states: being Little and functional adulthood. Correction: calling what you could reasonably achieve today “functional” was probably too generous.

“I can see you fighting it so hard, topolina. You don’t have to. I’m right here.” He thinks you’re battling subspace because of all the times you’d coped with sub-drop alone during the breakup. It’s certainly a factor, but more worrying is the fact that your brain is sabotaging both your mornings. It didn’t feel like a safe time to slip into submission. 

“I – work! Gotta, gotta…” You couldn’t afford to become non-verbal. 

“No.” Both his tone and expression were stern. “What you’re going to do is allow yourself to be 100% present with me for a few more minutes. Non-negotiable.”

“I can breathe though.”

“You’re so afraid you’re trembling,” he deadpans. Even with faltering interoception, you can sense that it’s true.

“Why’d my brain just, just…”

“It's adrenaline.” What you’d intended to ask is why in the fresh hell did my brain launch me into headspace. Damiano wraps an arm around your lower back and pulls you flush against his body, so close your noses are touching. “I need you to feel how steady I am.” For a second, the shaking gets worse as your emotions intensify, but then it lessens. With your entire being, you wanted to believe that Dami was steady, that today’s events couldn’t compromise his sobriety. His gaze is so intense that you’re both drawn in and fighting the urge to look away.

“I am okay. You are okay. Our relationship is okay. And you can get back to reality without putting five football fields of space between us. That’s what I’ve been doing a piss poor job of communicating all morning.” Embarrassed for reacting so drastically, you nod, then try to avert your eyes. Damiano doesn’t allow that. He grabs your chin and uses it to turn your face back in his direction. For a second, the urge to fawn almost takes over completely. 

“Now there she is,” he coos. “There’s my perfect Little Girl.” Your cunt throbs so you collapse forward with a dramatic groan. 

“Why you gotta say the sexiest shit when I’m trying to pull myself together?!” Damiano breaks character and laughs right in your ear, so loud that it organically brings you to the surface.

“Okay, okay. Scene over?”

“Mhm.” He begins taking his hand away which earns an agonized whine. Dami freezes.

“Scene not over?”

“No, it’s just…sudden.” You sit up which turns out to be a horrible idea because your gaze falls to Dami’s lips. Your logical mind knows not to kiss him right now. But your submissive side wants to give him everything you have and more, especially since a hand on the back of your neck is exactly the gesture he’d use to pull you in for a makeout. So you stare at his lips again before consciously tearing your eyes away.

  “This is doing wonders for my ego, watching you fight the urge to kiss me.” That earns him an eye roll. “Oh, the sass is back! So we’re feeling better then.”

“Yeah.” You look at the floor and this time he doesn’t stop you.

“Okay, I’m actually gonna take my hand away.” You brace for it, but the air is still cold and bitter against your neck. Plus, what feels like the weight of the world resumes its resting place on your shoulders. Damiano moves his hand up a few inches, onto the back of your head instead of taking it away from the area entirely. He watches for subdrop, eyes pained after seeing how crestfallen you are. Needing a respite from the intensity of this unexpected moment, you decide to let work know that you’re going to be late. The tears in your voice are recent enough to pull off a very convincing performance about your sick grandfather being in the hospital with a mystery illness.

The veteran secretary who answers the phone finds your project manager right away. She offers to give you the whole morning off, visibly piquing Dami’s interest. Based on his expression, he expects you to take it, and if not for coinciding with his treatment schedule, you would. Instead, you promise to be there within an hour.

“You didn’t want the morning off?”

“I think that we’ll both do better keeping our schedules today.” He considers this for a moment then accepts it. Dami sets both palms on your mid-thigh to indicate that this was now an adult interaction between equals.

“We need to have a tough conversation or two…or five.” He tries to make you smile, but your stomach flips instead. “Obviously not right this moment, but we both need to find space in the next couple days. It’s time.”

“You’re right. I know it, I’m just, well, scared, as per usual.”

“Yeah, me too.” You look up in surprise. Damiano was the most courageous person you knew. He was the one to call it, even though it was obvious to both of you that avoiding a discussion for any longer would be counterproductive.

“Scared about what?” He looks at you wide-eyed and sputters while gesturing to the door. “Damia, I told you not to promise me perfection because I knew it wasn’t realistic. My expectation is that you try your absolute best to stay sober and when relapse happens, you fight like hell. And I don’t want to impede your ability to do that by making you spend all your inner resources on me.” Anxiety concealed as exasperation creeps into your voice. “Which is why I didn’t take the morning off. Because I didn’t want to interrupt your routine, when that routine helps you be sober. I didn’t want to create a demand for emotional labor, when –”

“What, by having emotions?” he interrupts sharply. 

“I – yeah. You’re used to having these peaceful quiet mornings and I just…”

“Existed? Experienced things? Was a human being with needs?” 

“Yes, but I – I mean, yeah because I – You, you’re still at risk of like, like…It's more important! Your sobriety is more important.”

“Than your emotions?” He narrows his eyes as if that's an unhinged beleif.

“Yes! It's more important than my emotions. It's more important than me. It's more important than everything!” 

“No!”

“Yes!” You push his hands away and stand up, pacing to the other side of the living room.

“I am the only one that can prioritize my sobriety above all else, and I do! Despite last night, I fucking do! My sobriety can’t be your priority.”

“Why?” you snap and whip around, shooting daggers with your eyes.

“Because it's my life.”

“Ditto. I can prioritize whatever I want.”

“You have to prioritize yourself. You can’t live for somebody else!”

“Prioritizing your sobriety is living for myself because I would never be okay if you died from an overdose and you fucking know that. So I’m not sure why we’re fighting about this.”

“Because only I can keep myself sober,” he implores. 

“I fucking know that!!” you screech through gritted teeth. It's a fact that haunts all my waking hours and several of my slumbering ones. “I don’t live in some fairytale land where I control your decisions. Nor do I want to, whatsoever. But I can make your sobriety easier, so I’m damn well going, too. Today of all days!”

“It's not your responsibility!” He stands up and gestures in frustration.

“Did I say it was!?” Doubt starts to creep in as to why Damiano is hellbent on whatever point he’s making.

“You’re –”

“Am I annoying you when I try to help with your sobriety? Is that what it is?” 

“Wha – no. No.” His tone changes completely, all the wind gone from his sails.

“Fuck,” you sigh and bite the inside of your lip. “Sorry, I just did that thing where I get insecure and you have to be nice to me instead of having your feelings.”

“That’s not what just happened.”

“Seems…” You’re about to say that it seems like Damiano has to bottle up his feelings instead of getting to resolve them. And that it felt like he started to avoid fights with you pre-breakup, since you’d get all pathetic like this. Dami was so empathetic and didn’t want to deal with your occasional bouts of middle school level self-confidence, which became more numerous as things fell apart. It was the only bit of jealousy, in terms of his other partners, that had staying power: confidence. Glowing, radiant, unshakable, sexy confidence. The opposite of your insecurity, which was so powerful that it could totally warp your sense of reality, as it probably was now.

“There! That! Tell me, just fucking tell me.” Damiano’s pointing at you, so you look down at yourself, startled. “It started with you hiding your anger from me, but it's become this. Like you won’t take a single step without considering how it might impact my sobriety. You edit out everything that could possibly trigger...I don’t even know what! Like, I’ve started playing a guessing game where I try to think of anything you could plausibly say in a situation that would jeopardize my sobriety. And besides that last night, there was never anything I couldn’t handle.”

“I…” your brain feels like sludge. “A second ago was just classic insecurity, but generally…yeah. Yeah, I’ve been walking on eggshells a lot, if I’m honest.” Dami sighs in relief and approaches.

“You hold me down. You keep me sane. Not just sunshine you, but scatterbrained, insecure, anxious you. Keeps-an-extra-pair-of-pants-in-her-car-since-she-always-spills-her-coffee-driving you. Veterinarian in a past life, too competitive for board game nights, can’t stick to the grocery list, maker of near disaster via spontaneous hugs in the kitchen at the least opportune moment you. Scowls at men, but smiles at every child, and they always smile back. Picks the restaurant, but can’t pick what to order, then insists on tipping too much at bad service. All music is dancing music, borderline delusional optimist, empathy for the socially invisible, never finishes a book before starting another because she hates endings. Believes in love instead of god because she can find something to love in everyone she meets. Everyone has beauty and purpose and fascinating complexity.”

“Dami…”

“Calls me out on my bullshit when all the others are too intimidated. Remembers who I am when I forget. Understands my art when the public doesn’t, but believes that anyone can be an artist. Believes that the world is full of magic, in the form of human possible connection.” Damiano backs you against a wall, bodies barely brushing. “I could keep going,” he whispers. “You don’t have to try. Just be.”

“But I want to be sure that I’m not jeopardizing your sobriety.”

“On the off chance that moment ever comes, I will tell you. I won’t let you compromise my sobriety.” Some of that weight lifts. “The way things were when we broke up, they’re never going to be that way again. I am prioritizing my sobriety and I've got a small army of physicians helping me. You don’t need to prioritize my sobriety anymore.” He sets a hand on your ribcage, still speaking in a whisper. The moment is extremely intimate.  “It's taken care of, my love. It's time for you to be taken care of. And I know we’re gonna have this same conversation again and that's okay.” 

You loosely wrap your arms around Dami, to keep him close and extend the moment. Just based on your body language, he can tell that you’ve finally internalized what he’s been trying to say.

“I’ve been anxious about coming home and you’re gone.”

“Not going to happen. No surprises, no disappearing acts.”

“Okay.” You cast your eyes anywhere by his face. Damiano takes your jaw in his hand, coaxing you to look at him, but not demanding it as he did minutes ago. You take a couple seconds to corral your emotions first, since you can’t gauge if your reaction is gonna be more tears, hyperventilating, smiles, giddiness, or feeling lovesick. He sees this effort and presses your body into the wall using his own.

“Let me in,” he demands. You stop intentionally directing your features into an expression and wait for thoughts to come up organically. Except they don’t, so you try to recall how this worked when transparency was your first instinct with Damiano. Unfortunately, the only thing discernable is your sense of smell informing you that Dami is delicious. You’d braced for the stench of booze coming from his pores this morning, but it's not because he barely drank. So he still smells like home, plus a tiny bit sweaty from getting too hot in his sleep. That was only perceptible up close though. His skin would be salty if you licked it. You can also tell that he brushed his teeth while you were getting dressed, but that should be obvious. He wouldn’t have gotten in your space like this otherwise. 

So the urge to kiss him returns with a vengeance. You attempt to see around the obstacle to identify something of your innermost thoughts. What do I feel? How do I feel? Horny, obviously, which wasn’t exactly news. More like your resting state. It’s as if your mind is a shaken snow globe. So you’re squinting your eyes to see the miniature winter wonderland below. But all you can perceive is the mental permafrost that is wanting to ride Damiano until you collapse and this fucking blizzard obscuring your vision. 

“Y/n –”

“I genuinely can’t figure out what I’m thinking. I’m trying, I swear.” 

“Can I take a guess?” he smiles. “You’re horny.” After the initial embarrassment, you get flustered, consider hiding it, decide not to, and end up aroused. Damiano’s gaze devouring your blush certainly inspires confidence, as well.

“Actually it was way more specific than that, but sure.” You can see the progression of Dami’s emotions: aroused, realizing your transparency, excitement, even more aroused. 

“Why do you torture me?” He boxes you in with his arms and uses his pelvis to keep you pinned against the wall. When his cock twitches you smirk and raise an eyebrow, but a more serious answer crosses your mind. “Tell me, tell me,” Damiano chants.

“I don’t want to jerk you around, with the physicality stuff. Because on a couple days it’s been…I wake up feeling really steady and so do you. Then I come home and you’re reading a book on the couch and you’ve done all the laundry and I just want to fucking…slip my panties off and grind on the crotch of your jeans while we makeout until I’m sore. And then maybe you – anyways, then some –

“No, no. Finish that thought first.”.

“Your tongue can be really, really gentle,” you admit, feeling a tiny bit perverse. “Soft, soothing, so when I’m sore it's – it's, um, nice.”

“What’s my tongue doing?” He leans down and speaks directly into your ear again.

“You go down on me.” Your voice starts to climb in pitch from the anticipation.

“Right there on the couch?”

“Mhm.”

“We don’t even make it to the bedroom?”

“I, um – It’s just in my head.”

“But just in your head, we don’t make it off the couch.” His lips barely brush your neck. Was it an accident? 

“No.”

“Why? Cause you’re too desperate?”

“Hng, I –” He boldly nips at the base of your neck.

“This okay?” he murmurs. As Dami speaks, his breath hits the spot of saliva his mouth left on your skin and you’re so keyed up that it evokes a full body shiver.

“Mhm!”

“So are you desperate because you need to cum? Or desperate because you got carried humping me since you were too horny to stop yourself?” Somehow, one of the arms that had been around Dami’s waist is now clutching his shoulders as he licks your neck. You don’t remember it happening.

“What…was I just talking, um –” Thankfully, Dami raises face to look at you which makes thinking easier.

“Anyways, then some.”

“Huh?”

“That's how your next thought started: ‘anyways, then some.’”

“Oh, um…then, I don’t know, maybe I have a bad anxiety day or I talk to my therapist or something reminds me of a painful memory and I don’t want sexual touch.”

“But do you always want physical touch of some kind, like cuddling?”

“Well, I came climbing into bed with you last night, didn’t I?” He smiles wide and looks over the couch for a moment.

“Yeah, that's true…and very good to know. If all days are good physical touch days, you are about to get very sick of me.” Now you’re both smiling like fools and the gravitational pull of chemistry has your noses nearly brushing while Dami slips an arm between the wall and the small of your back. It occurs to you that this is the same move he made in the shower, when encouraging you to grind against his leg.

“I just don’t want you to feel rejected or misled if you touch me in a certain way and I’m not into it, even though I was yesterday. Because it's so momentous since we were broken up for a while.”

“Well, you can just tell me that and I’ll understand.” You nod, but the fact that it isn’t so simple occurs to you. Damiano sees it and raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay, I forgot how fucking inconvenient this mind reading thing is but –” he bursts into joyful laughter, head thrown back. You rest your other arm on Dami’s shoulder as well. In return, he pulls you body to body, resting his other hand on the top of your ass with a watchful expression. It’s exactly the point you were making.

“Obviously, I wasn’t feeling like jumping your bones today. The way you placed your hands over there,” you nod towards the couch, “I really appreciated, because it was exactly the right thing. Like it was so conscientious and considerate and nurturing,” even saying the word made your pussy throb, “that I’m pretty sure it turned me on. So fuck if I know how this works!” Again, Dami is filled with boisterous laughter that's infectious. As you giggle along, you wonder if he was right about just letting your organic connection do its thing. “My brain was like ‘Wow. He’s so nuanced about doing this in exactly the way I need. He’s so respectful about the fact that this is totally non-sexual for me that it's making me wet. Oh, wait.’”

“Okay. So sex is never a –”

“Sexual contact,” you clarify. “I still don’t feel ready for proper love making, I’m sorry.” Dami’s face is the most offended it's been all morning.

“Sorry? What do you mean ‘sorry?’” 

“I know, I know,” you brush him off with an eye roll. 

“For fucks sake, don’t apologize. Why would –”

“Stop, you’re so dramatic!” You jostle Damiano while speaking and he almost delivers a retort before changing course in an effort to make you laugh. Effusive, he gasps and brings a hand to his sternum in scandal.

“Who, me? Dramatic?? Never!” You’re filled with a yearning that originates in your mind, but starts in your cunt. This time you don’t fight it off as it travels upwards to envelope you. “I would –”

“Kiss me,” you interrupt, so giddy that you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet. Caught off guard, Dami stops speaking. “Kiss me, kiss mmm –”

Notes: It's a good one! Thank you for waiting for this update and for reading this fic. I hope the holiday season is at least bearable for y'all. And if its not, me and my Masterlist are here for you!

-XOXO Eden

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[awkwardtickleetoo]

Ler!Sapnap Week Day 2/3 - Gym/Bet

woah….. two fics back to back????? who am i?????

this is another fic for @sleepy--anon ‘s ler!sapnap week!! this is a combo of days two and three, which were gym and bet!! you can find the original post here as well, so make sure you all go show sleepy your support and thank her for making this happen :D thanks again sleepy!!

truth be told i wrote this fic in like two hours after a random stroke of motivation, and i think it turned out pretty good!!! i hope everyone else enjoys it as well :)

lee!george, ler!sapnap, 1.7k words

enjoy!!

--

“George. Planking contest, let’s go,” Sapnap said as he took a sip from his water bottle, his dry mouth grateful for the drink after his fruitful workout session with his friend. George looked up from his phone, switching the song they had on in the background and chuckling amusedly.

“What? No, not after we’ve already worked out.” George reasoned, taking a drink of his own water as well.

“C’mon, I’m hyped up still, just this one thing then we’re done.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“C’monnnnn,” Sapnap groaned, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You just know you’re gonna lose.”

“Right now? Probably. My arms hurt.”

“George,” Sapnap said as he leaned against the wall, tilting his head at the other man. “Humor me.” George rolled his eyes and looked over at Sapnap, eyebrows raised, the other man staring back at him expectantly. Sapnap knew he would never pass up an opportunity to prove him wrong. He let out a labored sigh, shaking his head in fond disagreement.

“Fine. But I’m gonna destroy you,” George taunted, placing his phone and his water on the table and turning around as Sapnap excitedly jumped into position at his words.

“Bring it on, cutie,” Sapnap teased back, both of them kneeling on the ground next to each other, ready to begin. They both placed one hand on the ground, George taking one last moment to straighten up the sleeve of his shirt and his messy, slightly sweaty hair from his workout, before letting out another soft sigh and nodding to Sapnap to let him know he was ready. “Okay, three, two, one, go!” Sapnap counted, and the challenge had begun.

It started off uneventful, the room relatively quiet apart from the music they had playing and occasional soft breaths or throat clearing noises from either of them, and it stayed that way for a little over a minute.

Then George got bored.

His elbows were starting to hurt, and his hips were sore from the exercises he’d done, and while it wasn’t enough to make him drop his plank just yet, it was definitely uncomfortable, and sitting in the same position with only that soreness to focus on was definitely not his idea of a good time.

So, he created his own entertainment.

He pushed himself up slightly more, arms straighter, and then leaned onto his left arm so he could pick up his right arm. He ran his hand through his hair again, testing the waters, seeing how long one arm could hold him up and finding that he was shockingly sturdy enough to keep up with it.

Which is exactly what he needed, so he could reach over and poke Sapnap right in the side.

“George,” Sapnap warned, voice stern, not reacting to the poke yet. Another came soon after, at the bottom of his ribs this time, and he couldn’t stop the small flinch it caused. “George.”

“What?” George asked innocently, but there was a smile evident in his words. He poked again, closer to the top of his ribs now, and he let out a chuckle as he watched Sapnap’s arm flinch where it held him up. “Uh oh. Seems like you’re getting weaker.”

“If you do that again you’re gonna be sorry.” His voice stayed sharp, and George bit back a smile as he steadied himself again. “I'm being courteous by warning you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” George kept up his innocent act, and delivered another poke to the spot right above Sapnap’s hip.

Whatever came next was a complete blur, happening so quickly George was genuinely convinced it might’ve given him whiplash from how dizzy he was.

“That’s it!” Sapnap practically growled, sounding downright predatory, and he grabbed George’s wrist and yanked him towards him, immediately throwing his arm around George’s waist and yanking him in his direction.

“OH– shit!” George yelled, and then he was on his back, wrists pinned next to his head by a firm, unrelenting grip and unable to squirm away as Sapnap straddled his thighs. “Wh– Sapnap! Get off me!”

“I fucking warned you, Georgie, this is nobody’s fault but your own.” Sapnap shifted George’s wrists, sliding them up above his head and crossing them over each other so he could hold them down with one hand instead, ignoring George’s loud protests the entire time.

“NO! Noho, no, let– let GO OF ME!” George fought, giggles already building up in his chest, pulling at his arms and kicking his legs out behind Sapnap. Suddenly, Sapnap dug his fingers into George’s ribcage, targeting the spot right in between them and spreading his fingers out as much as he could, covering as much surface area as possible. George gasped, his entire body straining as his back arched and he broke into loud, surprised laughter. “NAHAHA, whahaha–?! SAHAHAPNAHAP!”

“Yes?”

“STOHOHOP!”

“Nah, you deserve this,” Sapnap said nonchalantly, trailing his cruel fingers over to one side of George’s ribs instead, digging in all along the bones, making George scream and squirm around like his life depended on it.

“NOHOHO, PLEHEHEASE–“ George yelled, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back. He kicked his feet against the floor, the heels of his sneakers sliding against the rubber padding, the soreness in his body hitting him hard and rendering him weak as he attempted to free his arms and hips. “AH– I CAHAN’T, SAHAHAPNAP!”

“Boohoo, crybaby, you’re fine,” Sapnap teased with a pinch to his hip, making him squeak and giggle and try to buck his hips up. Sapnap giggled along with him, slipping his hand under George’s shirt to scratch at his tummy for a few seconds. George immediately broke out into soft laughter, his breathing becoming hiccupy when he couldn’t stop giggling long enough to take any air in. His face was flushed, only growing redder as he tried to hide in his arm, and Sapnap couldn’t help but coo at him. “Well, aren’t you just adorable?”

“Shuhuhut uhuhup–“ George grumbled, clearly embarrassed, and Sapnap decided to put him out of his misery and move on.

Instead, Sapnap pulled his hand out from under George’s shirt and immediately dug into his underarm, making George scream at the sudden switch and then burst into loud, hysterical laughter.

“NAHAHA, FUHUHUCK–“ George yelled, twisting his torso however he could, yelling desperately at his arms and kicking so hard that his knees hit Sapnap’s back every so often. Sapnap chuckled at his reaction, letting go of George’s wrists in favor of using both hands to attack his underarms, making George squeal again, immediately reaching down to grab at Sapnap’s wrists, though he was unsuccessful in his attempts to pull him away. “PLEHEHEHEASE, PLEASE PLEHEASE PLEASE, STOHOP– AH, STOHOHOP!”

“Are you gonna behave yourself?” Sapnap asked, and George was nodding frantically, answering before he even finished.

“YEHEHES, YES!” George pleaded, attempting to blink his teary eyes open but immediately squeezing them shut again, his nose scrunching as he laughed, fingers shaking as they held Sapnap's arms.

“Good. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’M SOHOHORRY! I’M SOHORRYHY!” George was practically begging, nodding in agreement again, as if that would somehow sway Sapnap’s opinion.

Sapnap would be lying if he said it wasn’t adorable, and he would also be lying if he said he didn’t want to keep George like that all day, laughing and breathless and thoughtless and helpless– especially since he knew damn well that George could take ten times the torture if he was in the right mood– but he took pity on the boy, knowing he was already worn out and tired and sore from the work they’d done in the gym that day. He pulled his hands back, resting them on George’s sides and rubbing his tummy with his thumbs softly, letting him catch his breath.

“Y’alright?” Sapnap asked, the subtle southern-ism in his tone making George smile through his leftover giggles.

“Mm– yeah…” George said between breaths, running a hand through his hair again before swiping them over his face, then letting his arms drop out to his sides. “That was so cruel.”

“You literally started it,” Sapnap pointed out, pushing himself to the side off of George’s hips and grabbing his water from the table for him.

“But I wasn’t gonna do that!”

“Shut up, you big baby, you know you loved it. And you know I could’ve done so much worse, so be grateful,” Sapnap scolded playfully, and George’s cheeks flushed once again at the accusation, a shy smile gracing his lips as he turned to the side. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, idiot, I see you blushing!”

“Shut uppppp!” George whined, hiding his face in his hands and curling into himself, both of them giggling at the situation.

“Alright, alright, I’m done. Here,” Sapnap patted George’s shoulder and motioned for him to sit up, handing him his water when he did so and sitting quietly while he took a well needed drink. “I’m fucking hungry, too, can we get food?”

“Bro nearly kills me and then just asks if we can get food.”

“Oh, yeah? I can do it again!” Sapnap teased, grabbing George around the waist and pulling him in, eliciting a scream from the older boy.

“NO! No, no, NO, fuck you!” George yelled, prying Sapnap’s arms off him and pushing himself away, his knees pulled up to his chest for protection. Both of them broke out laughing at that, and Sapnap just shook his head fondly.

“You’re so dumb,” He said with a smile, pulling out his phone and scooting closer to George, resting his head on George’s shoulder as he scrolled through the food options. The two of them made quiet conversation as they looked through the menus, cuddling close to each other as they did so, already inseparable, even after the events that had just unfolded.

The rest of the night was relatively calm– food was ordered, both boys were showered and in comfy pajamas, and they sat in the living room to eat with some random anime on TV.

That is, until Sapnap decided to try and steal a fry off George’s plate, and the house was alive with the sound of laughter once again, and George was able to get his revenge.

[womenl0verr]

totga || rosita espinosa

rosita espinosa x reader

warnings; just some cussing, suggestive sexual themes

it all started with one drunken night, rosita’s my best friend, we’re close, and when she found alcohol, of course i’m the first one she offers to drink with. one cup was all i said, but soon turned into two, three, four. and so on, thus leading into the next morning, laying on her bed, her arms wrapped around me, a regrettable hangover, and night.

while we were exploring an abandoned street, i decided to look inside a music store, finding destroyed music disks and many more. “aw such a waste.” i mutter under my breath, but looking behind the counter to see a perfect still intact sony walkman, and on the drawer was two cassettes. “this, this is heaven.”

“really? that’s what you felt when you were with me though, not to brag.” she startled you, on purpose, walking inside. “finders keepers.” i say, putting the cassette tapes inside my bag. “wasn’t gonna steal.”

“what do you want.” i sternly say, searching for some tech pieces, “you. i know that you like me. for a long time now, glenn told me.” she chuckled, as my mouth dropped since she told me that my snitch of a friend told her. “i am so gonna kill him.” i huffed, almost walking past her but she stops me.

“y/n. you can’t keep ignoring me forever. i like you too.” she whispered, as her hand held my cheek, making me look up at her, since she was slightly taller and i was looking away from her, our lips almost touched, but i already felt fireworks, and since almost is the word. glenn walked in, making us back away from each other.

clearing my throat, with a stern and angry expression visible in my face, “what do you want.” i say, with gritted teeth, but still managed to smile. “we have to go now.” glenn explained, “give me a second.” then turned to look to rosita while i wasn’t looking.

“see told you, you could do it. so how’d the first move go?” glenn laughed quietly, “you walked in, so i couldn’t pull my first move.” i said as i walked past them, “oh please like you could ever pull a first move.” he scoffed, while i fake-gasp. “challenge accepted.” and with that i walked over to rosita, and pulled her into a long and passionate kiss. “done. don’t tell anyone this.” then walked away.

“wow.” rosita laughed, touching her lips. “she’s really competitive, rosita. good luck.” rosita patted her on the shoulder, as they both walked out of the store.

as we were walking i decided to test out the walkman, and it works, and one of the cassettes were rnb, so pure heaven. but while listening, i notice rosita, ever so slowly walk closer to me, but once she was close enough, i grabbed her hand and held hands with her. this is so my romcom moment.

from the corner of her eyes, i saw her blush, which made me gain confidence to maybe flirt back, maybe. definitely, but i will, one day.

once a rustling sound was made, we were all on alert mode, except for me, i didn’t hear a thing, then rosita screamed at me to duck, but i turned around, almost getting bit by a walker but i decapitated it first, my Sony walkman getting ruined, falling on the ground.

but we still continued on our way back, Rosita tries to hold my hand, but I put my hand in my pocket instead. I can see her face go from a soft and caring face to a cold one.

once we settled down, I didn't bother to do anything else but to just try and fix my walkman, the cassettes were still in tact, just the walkman, after a few tries, I did it, I fixed it. I was a tech junkie when the world was still okay. I owned multiple gameboys and such, scared to let dad find out that my gameboy was broken, learning how to fix one from the guys who sells gameboys.

but as the pure rebel, ew no, pure stupid I am, I decided to sneak off, off to the nearest town, though it was almost night, I wasn't scared at all, with my supplies of literally one water bottle and a broken katana, I felt like I could do anything. "I'm a genie in a bottle. you gotta run me the right way. if you wanna be with me. I can make your wish come true."

"woah." I say, looking at heaven, and that heaven is, a music store, and no not a small one, a big one containing guitars, drums, piano's, and a whole lot more instruments. but then it's almost night, and there's no way I could ever pull off getting a full drum set back to camp, so instead it's just one acoustic guitar and was biggie, but I another secret run, success.

before I could go back to camp, a voice interrupts me, "y/n, tsk tsk. you're still sneaking out? what happens if your glenn finds out huh?" Rosita asks me, walking closer to me, obvious teasing in her voice. "well nothing, since he won't ever find out." I say, brushing her hair our of her face. "right?" I say, seductiveness in my voice.

"my my, y/n rhee where did you learn that?" she asks, softly chuckling, "who else?" I say, gesturing to her, "and movies." I shrug, "I gotta go now. help me." I say, while give the guitar on her, "sorry. you said you'd help."

"I said nothing." Rosita said, "well now you said something." once we reached camp I dropped my bag climbing inside of my tent, sighing of relief once the weight on my back was gone. "god this is so bad for my posture." I sigh, "here, you go, princess." she said, teasingly, climbing inside my tent. "oh shut it, you think a princess would walk through dirt and mud?"

"no, but I think that's what you're acting like right now. bratty and snobby." she said, stepping closer to me. "real mature." i said, stepping closer to her, testing the waters, but maybe i’m the waters, as she stared at me with that lustful gaze. “okay. stop.” i block her eyes with my hands.

“wow, real mature.” she said, quoting me, “don’t quote me.” i say, before taking my hands from her eyes. “you know you can leave now.” i say, feeling tired, “i can. but what if i don’t want to?” she says, her voice seductive, her eyes lustful. my heart, beating. “well, what’s so bad with that? maybe you can stay.” i flirt back, stepping closer.

“wow, flirting back? who taught you that.” she said, holding my cheek in her hand, tracing my jawline with her finger. “ugh stop that.” i groan, pushing her hand away from me. “why?” she chuckled, “you’re cute when you’re annoyed.” she said, causing me to blush.

and that was when the madness started. which led to five weeks, i didn't know that she and abe were together, i mean i did, but she told me they were gonna break up. god first relationship and i'm a mistress at the ripe age of twenty, but she still went back to abe, mom wouldn't be proud of me. and from then on, i hated her with my full on might, and she too hated me.

five years later

everything's good with rosita, we're on good terms, she has a boyfriend now, i don't but hey, who says it isn't fun to be single in a apocalypse.

while we were talking and drinking, i suddenly laughed, it was night, the breeze was a little cold, the only light was the moonlight shining up against her face. "woah don't go crazy on me." she laughed, "no no don't worry. i haven't gone crazy yet." i laughed, memories shining back at me.

"i can't believe it. people say: you won't ever meet your first love again, because that's what makes them your first love. well glenn just said that, but it's not true, look at us right now. hey i may not be your first love, but you are definitely mine. i don't know if it's the alcohol. but you are really my first love, well you were technically all my first." i laughed, to mask my little sadness, but hey, who says a little drinking can't help that.

“y/n.” she said, holding my cheek in her hand, using the triangle technique making me chuckle softly, as she did too, but she slowly leans in, hoping to kiss me. but i pull away before our lips can touch, “i’m sorry, i-i can’t it would hurt to much.” i say, standing up walking towards my house, “y/n!” she called out but i didn’t bother looking ay her, or stopping.

i knew it would hurt to much, she might be my first love, but i was her totga.

the that got away.

A/n, anyways this was actual shit, i’ve written to much to not put this fic to good use. also i’ve recently started watching twd :) IT IS NOT S SMALL SERIES I FORGOT TO REMOVE IT😭😭😭