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cevansbrat0007 · 2 days ago

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Guessing Games: A Fast Car Interlude

Summary: You accidentally trigger Ari's jealous streak. Takes place directly after the events in Guessing Games.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Implied Future Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Jealous!Ari, Innocent Flirting, Stupid Men, Manhandling, Mentions of Spanking, Discussions of Self-Image, Mentions of Lingerie, Semi-Public Sex, Allusions to Fingering, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: After a shitty week, please enjoy this completely self-indulgent fic. Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“Hey. I know this car.” You think as you come to stand in front of a vehicle on display that happens to look strangely familiar. Smoothing your hands down the skirt of your sundress, you manage a quick side-step, narrowly avoiding a collision with a small child who was too busy enjoying his ice cream cone to pay attention to where he was going.

You’ve been wandering around Fulton County’s annual Classic Car Showcase for the better part of an hour now, and so far things were going better than you’d expected. And not only that, but you were even beginning to have fun.

“I can see why this one caught your eye.” A familiar voice muses as he comes up behind you.

“I’m trying to figure out where I’ve seen it before. But I’m drawing a blank.” Angling your body, you reach for one of Ari’s big hands, grasping it with both of yours. “Any ideas?”

“You really don’t recognize it?”

“‘Fraid not.” Your lips purse as you continue to wrack your brain.

“It’s an exact replica of The General Lee, the 1969 Dodge Charger driven by Bo and Luke.”

“Who?” You stare up at him confused.

That earns you a chuckle, followed by him placing a gentle kiss atop your head. “Bo and Luke. From The Dukes of Hazzard. It was a popular show back in the eighties.” He explains, brushing a stray curl away from your face.

“Oh. Got it.” You nod, pretending to understand. “Mystery solved.”

You both stand there a few moments longer – mostly so he can admire the engine, or whatever the hell you assumed he was doing. Once he’s looked his fill, it’s apparently time to move on to the next car that catches his interest. You’re seemingly content to trail behind him until you happen to spot a nearby cluster of tents.

“Ari?”

“Yeah, little Bird?” The rich timbre of his voice has you smiling before you even realize you’re doing it.

“I reckon all this car hoppin’ has me feelin’ a little parched.” You tell him, turning your attention to the concessions located just across the lot. “I’m gonna go fetch myself a lemonade real quick while the lines are short.”

As expected, your man responds without missing a beat. But not before leading you over to the shade so that you can continue your conversation. Which was a good thing seeing as the temperature outside was hovering around the mid-eighties.

“Well, we can’t have that now can we?” Mirroring your smile, he brings your hand to his lips so that he can kiss the ridges of your knuckles. “Let’s go get you somethin’ to drink.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll go while you hang out here in the shade.” Your palms come up to rest against the hard wall of his chest. “Besides,” you continue when he opens his mouth to object. “It’s not like I’m going far. I’ll just be right over there.”

“Nah.” Ari swiftly disagrees, adjusting his sunglasses. “How about you wait here while I go get us both something to drink?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.” He gently flicks the tip of your nose. “After all, what kinda man would I be if I left my sweetheart out here to melt?”

“I mean…if you insist.” Rising on your toes – a feat made easier thanks to your wedge heels – you plant a smooch on his bearded cheek. “Hurry back, sugar.”

Now that he’s officially a man on a mission, Ari wastes almost no time making a beeline for the concessions. But not before issuing a stern warning to you, his curious little Bird.

“Don’t you go wanderin’ off on me, darlin’.” He growls, leaning down to tenderly peck your lips . “I expect to find you right here in this spot when I come back.”

And then he’s gone. You barely have time to respond with a playful salute before he’s striding off in search of sustenance for you both. Leaving you alone to twiddle your thumbs while you dutifully await his return.

Not that you minded. If anything, grateful for this brief respite from the heat. It never crosses your mind to abandon your spot in favor of looking at more cars. At least, not until you spy one that has you gasping in pure delight.

“Woah.” You breathe as you come to stand in front of the one vehicle with the power to transport you straight back to your childhood: a 1958 Plymouth Fury.

Better known as the car from Stephen King’s novel, Christine.

You’d absolutely loved this movie as a kid. So much so that your Uncle had bought you your own personal copy after he got tired of renting it for you weekend after weekend. Why, you must’ve seen it over a hundred times.

But as luck would have it, your private glee is interrupted by the sound of a voice coming up behind you.

“She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” The man asks, his southern drawl growing even more inviting when he tips his black stetson. “Restored her myself.”

“Holy crap! It looks just like the one from the film.” You chirp, reaching out to run your fingers along the shiny finish before swiftly thinking better of it. “Sorry.” Is all you can manage as you turn to face him. “I just…never thought I’d get the chance to see it in person.”

“Well…” The dark haired cowboy admits, flashing a chagrined smile. “It’s not actually the car. But it’s pretty dang close. Took me a few years, seeing that pretty smile of yours makes it all worth it.” His smile only grows wider as he holds out his hand to you. “The name’s Russell, by the way.”

You two spend a few more moments exchanging names and pleasantries before he politely redirects the attention back to the prized vehicle in front of you. Russell invites you to ask all the questions you like, only to laugh when you eagerly take him up on his offer.

In fact, you’re enjoying the conversation so much that you hardly notice when he slowly begins inching closer to you, his leanly muscled frame almost boxing you in. He was charming – you’d give him that much. And easy on the eyes.

Russell was the type of man who warranted a second look. Or at least he would. That is, assuming you hadn’t already been blessed with the gift of Ari Daniel Levinson.

“You know,” He murmurs, his cool gaze warming as he boldly peruses your dress. “Something tells me this conversation would pair wonderfully with a glass of wine.” His hand reaches for yours once more. “Perhaps over dinner?”

“Oh, I’m sorry...” The shocked apology comes tumbling out of your mouth. “I–I can’t. I actually came with someone. He’s–”

“Look, I don’t wanna be too forward.” Russell smoothly interrupts, stroking his thumb along the ridge of your knuckles. “But I haven’t been able to let you out of my sight since I saw you damn near an hour ago. Honestly can’t remember the last time I came across a woman as sweet as you.”

“That’s awfully kind of you to say.” You reply, intending to let him down easy.

“I saw that fella you were with.” He continues in earnest, still refusing to relinquish his grip on your hand. “Also saw him walk off and abandon you too.”

“He didn’t – no one abandoned anybody!” Closing your eyes, you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. You weren’t used to men hitting on you like this. It has you feeling way out of your depth.

“Be that as it may, I also believe in fate.” His already gravelly voice dips an octave. “I mean, I’ve come to this showcase year after year and never once have I met someone like you.”

“I…I’m not sure I’d go that far.” You hedge as you weigh your options.

On one hand, you really did want to be polite. But you also needed to be firm. You already had a man in your life. A man who owned you – mind, body, and soul. Not that you’d had any say in the matter. But these days, you were well past complaining about the handsome Beast of a man you’d come to cherish.

“Think about it.” Your would-be suitor implores, giving you a gentle squeeze. “There has to be a reason our paths crossed today.”

Alright. It was officially time to put a nail in this coffin. You open your mouth to respond, only to have someone else beat you to the punch.

“I think it’s about time you let go of her hand.” Ari rumbles, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. “Now.”

“Something I can help you with, buddy?” Russell responds without hesitation, clearly annoyed by the other man’s sudden reappearance. “Because the lady and I were in the middle of a conversation.”

“And I’m sure it was a great one.” Your bounty hunter is too busy glaring at his apparent rival to pay you any real mind. Although, he’s quick to shove a cup of what you suspect to be lemonade into your palm the second Russell releases his hold. “Too bad it’s over now. Let’s go, sweet Bird.”

The ice in his tone is enough to make you shiver. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ari was none too happy to find you entertaining the company of another man. But the last thing you’d expected was for him to be jealous.

Unless you were reading things wrong.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to wait, fella.” Russell surprises everyone by coming to stand almost nose-to-nose with Ari. “Because she and I were about to take the ride out for a little spin.”

“We most certainly were not.” You try, impatiently tugging on his arm. “Ari, let’s just go.” Although, you’re not surprised when you end up being completely ignored.

“Oh yeah?”

“Guess that’s what happens when you abandon a pretty little flower like her all alone in an empty field.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Russelly makes a point of poking your man in his chest. “I’m just glad I was lucky enough to be here to catch your mistake.”

Worry fills you when you see Ari simply nod along, his brawny shoulders wrought with tension. Sucking on his teeth, the bounty hunter briefly looks away as he forces himself to take a calming breath. Not that it seems to help any.

“You know what? I get it. No, really–I do.” Ari smirks, reaching up to lightly scratch at his jaw. “I knew what I was getting into, walking into a showcase like this with a beautiful woman on my arm, wearin’ the hell out of that dress.” One thick arm wraps itself around your waist, hauling you close. “My girl turns heads everywhere she goes. She’s just too sweet to realize it.”

Tucking you behind him, your man bridges the last bit of distance between himself and Russell. And while you can’t see his face, you’re shocked when he gently lifts his rival’s hat from his head, before tossing it in the direction of his forgotten plymouth.

“And sometimes that sweetness makes cowboys do stupid fuckin’ things.” Ari continues, sounding almost smug. But you don’t miss the danger in his tone. “Which is why I’m gonna be the bigger man right now and walk away, before I give into the urge to find out if you have what it takes to make the long drive home with a fractured arm.”

“Alright, that’s enough from you two.” You snap, finally fed up with all this male posturing. After all this nonsense, you just wanted to sit down and enjoy your drink before all the ice melted. “Russell, cool car. But I’m not interested, okay? And as for you, Ari…”

In lieu of responding, your man chooses to quirk one impatient, tawny brow.

“You’re looking a little flushed. I think it’s time we got you outta the sun.” Grabbing his wrist, you proceed to physically drag him away from the scene. It takes virtually all your might, but you’re grateful when his legs finally begin to move.

You don’t stop walking until you reach a set of picnic tables that are far enough away from the show to give you both some much needed privacy while you hashed things out.

“Darlin’, I can tell by your face you’re fixin’ to yell.” Ari growls, yanking his arm out of your grasp. "And I'd like to make my case before you start." His frown only deepens as he watches you perch on the edge of a bench, but not before taking a dramatic sip of your ice cold lemonade.

It tastes divine – the perfect treat for a hot summer’s day.

“Did you really have to throw the poor man’s hat?” You ask, fanning yourself.

“Probably not. But it felt good.” He shrugs, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Should’ve stuffed his ass in the goddamned trunk while I was at it.”

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but I was in the process of letting him down easy.”

“Could’ve sworn I told your bratty self to stay put where I fuckin’ left you.” His normally clear blue eyes glitter dangerously, letting you know that he’s pissed. “I mean, it was bad enough waitin’ in line listening to two idiots talk about which one of ‘em was gonna be brave enough to ask for your number…”

“Yeah right.” You scoff, looking up at the sky as you pray for patience.

“Roll ‘em at me one more time, baby. Swear to God.” Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he finds himself wondering for the umpteenth time just what the hell he’d been thinking bringing you to something like this with you wearing a dress like that. “I’m just itchin’ for a reason to lift that skirt and redden your disrespectful ass.”

In Ari’s mind, you were always the prettiest girl in the room. But on a day like today? You were downright irresistible. And what made it even worse is that you honestly had no idea the effect you had sometimes – on him and damn near every other man who came into your presence.

“You can’t talk like that!” You hiss, hoping that you weren’t being overheard.

“And just why the hell not?”

“Because we’re in public, you Beast!”

Rising to your feet, you set your drink on the table, deciding it might be better if you put some distance between you. Too bad Ari chooses to follow, walking you backwards until you feel yourself collide with the base of a nearby tree. His hands come to rest on either side of your head, effectively caging you in with his much larger frame.

“I should’ve known what I was getting into the moment I decided to let you walk outta the house wearing that dress.” Ari rasps, trailing his nose along the delicate column of your throat. “I thought I was safe, even with that lacey little scrap of nothin’ you’ve got hidin’ underneath.”

You barely manage to stifle a moan when your man captures your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking hard before releasing it with a soft pop. One of his hands leaves its purchase to settle dangerously low on your hip.

“But I see now that’s not enough for you, is it baby?” You press your thighs together when that same hand moves once again. This time working it’s way under your skirt - his short, blunt nails dancing along your skin as his mouth hovers a mere centimeter above yours. “I’m not sure why you thought it might be a good idea to tease me like this. Not too keen on you flirting with other men.”

“I promise I wasn’t.” Your eyes flutter closed as he grinds his growing erection against the softness of your belly. “I just got excited about the car. It’s from one of my favorite Stephen King stories.”

“Is that why I found you two holdin’ hands?” You let out a whimper when you feel the roughened pads of his fingers dig into your heated flesh, making you squirm. “Because you were excited?”

It wasn’t often that your man got riled up like this. But when he did there was almost no getting through to him until he calmed down. If you were lucky, you could typically drag him to some place quiet, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, sugar.” Leaning up, you press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I suppose I wouldn’t like it either if I saw you holding hands with a random woman. Promise it won’t happen again.” You add, weaving your arms around his trim waist after all you receive is a grunt for your trouble.

Although you can’t help but notice that some of the tension seems to have finally left his shoulders.

“Thank you.”

Ari allows his forehead to rest against your own as he struggles to collect himself. Wanting more, you cup his face with your hands, bring his mouth down for a much needed kiss. His eager tongue dances with yours, demanding more of your submission as the passion builds.

You’re both breathing hard when you finally come up for air. However, you realize your man’s not done. At least not yet.

“You’re enough to drive a man insane. You know that?” He groans in between soft, yet feral kisses. “I swear I try to be progressive – I do. I got sisters. A niece.” A sound almost like a purr rumbles in his chest as he nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck. “But I’m also man enough to admit I’ve got a bit of a jealous streak. Never was much of a problem until I met you.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” You murmur at the same time as your pussy spasms, dampening your panties with your slick.

“Good.” Ari lifts your leg, hitching it around his waist and not giving a damn about who sees. “And Bird?”

“Uh huh?” A shiver courses through you as he begins covering your exposed flesh with tiny, possessive love bites. This time you make no move to stop him. Thank goodness you’d had the foresight to pack some concealer.

“I hate to break it to you.” His mouth finds yours once more, deliberately teasing you with each sensual stroke and flick of his tongue. “But you and me, we’re not gonna make it back to Bell’s Creek tonight.”

“And w–why is that?” Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head as his fingers find your clit, toying with the swollen nub through the soaked fabric of your panties.

“Because I’m having the damnedest time trying to talk myself out of fucking you hard and fast on the hood of my truck.” He responds with an unapologetic shrug. “But I suppose I’ll just have to settle for a hotel, huh?” Grinning, he increases the pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves, loving the way you buck and writhe beneath his touch.

“I’ll start hunting for reservations.” You move to reach for your phone even as you feel your vision blur and your toe s curl. “But whatever you do…oh God…just please don’t stop.”’

END

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bluesidez · 3 days ago

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Gym Rat Miguel Part 16

content warning: angst, recreational drug use, mentions of food, 18+ so MDNI (not spoiling the positions this time, so you’ll just have to read and see)

word count: 8.2k (thank ya once again @slushycoookie 😚)

If you really love Xina as a character, then don't read this. Nothing crazy happens, it's just so far removed from her original character action-wise that you’ll definitely get angry. That's all. 🥸👍🏾

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GymRat!Miguel who should have taken the edible.

He held his head down, everything over the past years starting to click.

The touches, the stares, the treatment. Xina wasn’t just close to him because they were friends.

She was in love with him and he was too dumb to see it, too naïve to even think it was a possibility.

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Xina speeds out. “Or maybe you can just let it sit with you.”

“Ok.”

Xina widens her eyes, “O-ok? What do you mean ok? Ok as in you…you like me back?”

“Ok as in I hear you. I understand.”

Xina nods, hand holding her elbow.

“And I’m sorry that so much happened to you. I wish you would have reached out. It sounds traumatizing and no one should have to go through that on their own.”

Xina waits, heart beating out of her chest.

“But?”

“But, it doesn’t excuse anything you’ve done to me. Not a single fucking thing.”

She opens her mouth, eyes burning and eyebrow pinched, “I-“

“-need to let me talk first,” Miguel finishes. “You know how much you mean to me, so you have to understand that what you did was so low, Xina. It hurt, genuinely.”

“I know.”

“You know and yet you continued. It’s funny because after you were being weird to my girlfriend the first time you met her, I still defended you. That’s how much I had faith in our friendship.”

Xina blinks rapidly, pulling her hair back.

“Now, I feel even more stupid because this,” Miguel pushes his hand in and out between himself and Xina, “looks exactly how she thought it was. But that’s what you wanted, right? You wanted her to feel like you were someone to look out for.”

Her lip wobbles, “For just a second, I was relieved. I was so relieved that someone finally fucking beat me to you. But then I saw how you looked at her and I, I felt something boil over.”

Miguel wanted to laugh in disbelief.

“Xina, that doesn’t make it ok for you to go in my phone, plot and scheme, then lie like you didn’t. When has that ever been right?”

“Miguel, I know that so please-“

“You don’t love me.”

Xina falters, a tear falling down her face. A light from a car outside brightens the room for just a second, and she sees Miguel give an unfamiliar look of disdain.

“Yes, I do. I do love you. How could you say that I don’t?”

“Because you really don’t,” Miguel pushed his hair off of his face, only for it to fall back in place. “Love isn’t seeing me happy and trying your best to ruin it. Love is not control. If this is what you do to me, I would hate to see what you’re willing to do to someone who wants to be yours.”

She squats, hands wiping away the sorrow on her face.

In the past, Miguel would have been at her side arms open for comfort, heart hurting to see her like this. Right now, he just wants to plead at your waist for forgiveness.

“I don’t really want to look at you right now. I think you should go.”

He starts to get up, tired.

“M-Miguel? I, I’m sorry.”

“Me too. About a lot of shit I need to fix. You have more than just me to own up to and whenever you’re ready to do that, let me know. Right now though? You can see your way out.”

“Miguel, just,” she grabs his arm. “If I- Do you-“ her quiet sobs rack through her body. “I don’t want to lose you. Y-you don’t have to like me back.”

He turns and grabs her arms softly, eyes going back and forth between hers.

“Go home, Xina.”

GymRat!Miguel who opens the door to a flustered Gabriel and a nonchalant Tempest sitting on the floor.

“It’s not what it looks like-”

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” Tempest cuts Gabriel off. She looks past Miguel to a mourning Xina. “C’mon, girl, I’ll walk you to the door.”

Miguel steps aside as Xina shuffles over. He does his best to ignore the last tug she gives his hoodie before she leaves.

GymRat!Miguel who crosses his arms as he looks at Gabriel.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough to put a smile upon my face,” Gabriel grins. “It’s like watching your dreams come into fruition. I feel like I have enough adrenaline to run to New York and back, you know?”

“No, I don’t know. This isn’t funny, Gabri.”

“Uh,” Gabriel peers left and right. “It’s a little funny. To me.”

Miguel reaches into his pocket and threw the gummy into his mouth. The taste was interesting, to say the least.

“This is a good thing,” Gabriel tries again. “It’s one step closer to what you wanted, right?”

Miguel thought about you from last week.

He didn’t want you to look at him like that again.

“It is. I just don’t know how I let it get this far.”

Gabriel squeezes his shoulder with a pout.

“Because you’re an idiot, to be frank.”

The squawk that Gabriel lets out when Miguel hits him on the back echoes through the hallway.

GymRat!Miguel who goes back to his room to see a knocked out Lyla and Winston with a plate piled high with wings and yams.

“Yo,” he whispers, but his voice is still unbearably loud. “I think she’s trying to steal my fucking food.”

Miguel looked to Lyla who was folded over a beanbag, neck bent awkwardly. Her mouth was open and a little wet, but she was snoring up a storm.

“No, she’s not,” Miguel laughs. His friend's eyes are blown wide, horrified, like he’s in the middle of a haunted house.

Winston observes Lyla before turning back to Miguel, slow like he was made of wires and metal, “Don’t say shit to me when you’re next.”

GymRat!Miguel who shouldn’t have turned on your playlist as his limbs got heavier.

He was going to try and write something down in his journal, thoughts from before too much for his head.

It started with what just happened down the hallway. Was he right or wrong for what he said and what he did? Should he have done more?

Was it enough for you to see the truth?

You. You and everything you brought him. Your being, your emotions, you core, your love.

Now, he’s staring at the page full of your name alone scrawled across it with slow blinking eyes.

It feels like your hands are all over him and you’re whispering in his ears. You’re going through his hair from his scalp to his neck. Your tongue is hot on his skin, in his mouth. You taste like cinnamon and whipped cream. You’re pressing your chest against his and your heartbeats are becoming one.

His heartbeat.

Your heartbeat.

It’s sinking him. His heart is on the marked paper before him. It’s in red and graphite, smudged and darkened.

He’s falling. The clothes on him are rubbing against his bones. The chair under him is slipping from his grasp but he thinks you’ll catch him.

GymRat!Miguel who gasps for air as his back hits the cold metal of his desk chair.

Winston’s cackle refocuses his train of thought and he breathes in deep as he tries not to let you drown his thoughts again.

GymRat!Miguel who joins Winston on the floor to finish off the variety bag of takis.

Lyla shifts to a better position and Winston clutches his purple bag for dear life. Miguel laughs until he cries.

GymRat!Miguel who ends up on Gabriel’s fluffy rug, rubbing his hands over the fur like it’s a cat. Winston is bopping his head in the corner, music making him worry less about whether or not he’s being watched.

“Why is he so soft? What did you put on him?” Miguel asks.

Gabriel snickers as he watches him, “My feet.”

Miguel makes a face like a disgruntled cat.

“That’s fucking weird. Why would you ever do that? Is that why he smells lie that?”

“No, that’s your breath.”

Miguel gasps and covers his mouth, blowing straight through his fingers. He waits for a minute, then sniffs the air.

“You’re such a liar. It smells like apples. You need to be nicer to your rug, Gabri.”

A snap from above makes Miguel pose at the very last second. He thinks he’s posing at least. His smile is big but his eyes are closing every time the camera clicks and his peace sign is hidden somewhere in the fuzz of the rug.

“Say ‘party gal!’” Gabriel sang.

“I’m not at a party, nor am I a girl, so…no?” Miguel says with squinted eyes. “Why are you taking pictures of me?”

“Because you’re just so adorable that I have to share with your girlfriend.”

Miguel stops rubbing the rug and sits up, “Is she here? Where is she?”

Gabriel pushes him away with his foot.

“Chill out, Mig. I’m just sending her a video.”

“But,” Miguel stiffens. “It’s too dark in here. How is she supposed to see me?”

Gabriel looks at the several ambient lights his room is sporting then back to Miguel, “She can see it.”

“Was my shirt off in it? She likes it when my shirt is off.”

“I’m not filming your striptease, you hornball.”

“But Gabri-“

“No!”

GymRat!Miguel who snowballs his way through telling Gabriel his plans for when he visits New York for the next twenty minutes.

“And then,” he pauses and giggles like he’s holding the world’s greatest secret. “We go to the bodega. Ham and cheese. Orange drink. You know the one.”

Gabriel joins in his endless bubble of laughter, “Who taught you that?”

Miguel spaces out his giggles just enough to let your name fall through.

“Do you think she still loves me, Gabri? Because sometimes I get scared that she doesn’t.”

His brother sighed, head upside down as it hung off of his bed, “Yeah, I think so. It’s your first big fight, but what is love if not war?”

There’s a silence in the room.

Winston is giving a silent performance in the corner of the room now, his audience being Gabriel’s closet door of scarves and belts.

“War is what keeps humans apart,” Miguel mumbles.

“Uh oh,” Gabriel turns to look at him. “Don’t start this.”

“Statistically speaking, all first marriages have a 50% chance of surviving.”

“You just made that up.”

“No,” Miguel closes his eyes, hoping that would stop his million and one thoughts. “She could find another guy and last longer with him. It’s science. Proven.”

“You’re not even married.”

Miguel opens one eye and checks his empty left hand, “Holy shit you’re right.”

He starts to pat down his clothes, cotton pulling against his fingers.

“Where did it go? I just had it.”

Gabriel thought for a second.

“The Funyuns you just ate?”

Miguel starts to flip things over, papers and chip bags going everywhere.

He finds the bright yellow bag, opening it up and finding nothing. He turns it over and shakes it much to Gabriel’s annoyance who snatches it from his hands.

Miguel is about to cry until Gabriel throws another bag into his hands.

“Let’s switch topics,” Gabriel grumbles. “I feel like I’m watching a big ass baby.”

Miguel opens the bag and starts crunching.

“I think stars is such a good theme for the nursery. And penguins.”

“I’m turning on Spongebob.”

GymRat!Miguel who is out of his mind watching Squidward run around a blank screen.

The colors were there and now they’re not.

It does a number on him.

GymRat!Miguel who sits staring at Gabriel’s door. Watching. Waiting.

He said that you were coming around eventually.

It was sure taking you a long time to open the door.

GymRat!Miguel who is disappointed when Tempest and her pink-tipped locs bang the door open instead of you.

His slow turn and look of disappointment towards Gabriel is comical.

GymRat!Miguel who is guided back to his room by a more relaxed Tempest who asks Gabriel to distract Conchata.

“Did she say something?” Gabriel asks.

“No, but we need to act normal. She asked me some shit about some seasoning I used and I think dozed off mid-explanation. Can’t remember.”

GymRat!Miguel who finds a picture of you under his pillow right before he goes to sleep.

It’s a part of the polaroids you gave him last Christmas with your tank and panties.

He presses his lips against the film, eyes closing as he groans against it. The action repeats, his mind putting him in front of you.

A pain hits his hip, ache in his bones matching his heartbeat.

He looks down to a gray, metal hand covering him and screams.

Two of his friends jerk up from across the room while Winston throws a pillow at him.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to sleep.”

Tempest squints as she removes her eye mask, “Why did you throw your arm at him?”

“He was making weird sounds,” Winston replies as if the answer was obvious.

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up to Tempest shaking him for dear life.

His eyelids are heavy and the sun peaking through the windows are bright.

His arm covers his eyes as he tries to block it, feelings of his muscles slowly coming back to him.

“C’mon, buddy. You feeling ok?”

Miguel only yawns and nods into the pillow.

“Need to pee? Feeling sick? I got some water right here.”

Miguel slowly sits up with his eyes closed, hair sticking up every which way. Tempest opens his hand and places a glass of water there, helping him guide it to his lips. One taste of the liquid and he’s gulping it down like he’s never drank before.

“What time is it?” he asks, throat dry.

“Noon,” Tempest takes the glass away. “You guys were sleeping like babies. Very cute.”

Memories of last night slowly come back.

He’s pretty sure he texted you a string of random things, but he doesn’t even know if it went through.

“Yeah, I know, I know. Come to the kitchen and eat some food.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes his friends promise to text him when they make it home.

Sure, they’ll probably be on the call tonight playing some game or watching obscure compilations, but he was nothing if not a worrier.

“And don’t forget to-“

“We know, dad,” they say in unison.

GymRat!Miguel who spends Thanksgiving near his grandma.

His mom is giving him sideways looks all day and he feels that something is coming.

GymRat!Miguel who watches his brother place his cousins in formation for a video for the nth time.

“It’s swing, back a-round, grab your pants, thumb up with ‘I’m cool’. Feet out and in at the same time then CIRCLE your arms really high. What is so hard to understand about that guys?”

He runs to his phone on the tripod.

“From the top!”

GymRat!Miguel who hides with his grandma in her bedroom as his mom starts to bark orders. She was doing a lot for someone who didn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving.

The two of them are watching some random sitcom under a giant quilt sharing coconut cookies that she snuck from the kitchen.

“¿Abuela?”

“¿Si nieto?”

“¿Alguna vez has experimentado un desamor?”

His grandmother looks up, chewing as she thought.

“Yes, but only for a short while. I didn’t really have the time to sit with my feelings.”

“But, what if you did? Does it feel as terrible as it sounds?”

“Sometimes. But we’re human. If you’ve put in effort to love, that means you can put effort into yourself to heal and grow.”

Her arms wrap around him and squeeze, kissing his cheek like he was still the chunky baby she met decades ago.

“Now, relax and watch these two teachers avoid love. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

GymRat!Miguel who is leaning on his grandma, cheek pressed against her chest, when Gabriel comes in to plop on the bed.

“Move over,” he whines to Miguel as he tries to push him away to be in the middle.

“I don’t wanna sit next to you. You’re disturbing my peace.”

“And you’re hogging Abuela.”

“Go to her other side!”

“But this side is already warm!”

“My daughter has raised two giant babies,” their grandmother laughs as she moves the blanket to let Gabriel into her other side. “What am I going to do with you two?”

GymRat!Miguel who was nearly asleep when George comes to get them to eat.

It’s deep in the evening and the crickets are loud outside of the window.

He and Gabriel pout, the darkness of the room and the smell of their grandmother’s perfume making them lethargic.

“Your cousins are going to eat up all of the empanadas if you don’t hurry up.”

Miguel perks up and stumbles out of the bed, foggy mind registering his willingness to stuff his face with doughy goodness.

“Like a moth to a flame,” Gabriel says as he helps his grandmother up.

GymRat!Miguel who is on his third or fourth plate, not that he’s really counting, when his mom does what she always does every holiday: annoy him.

“Mijo, have you checked on Xina today? I saw Tempest walk her out the other day. Was she doing alright?”

Miguel glances around the table, mouth full of turkey as he sees his family perk up.

“No, I haven’t,” he answers slowly. “I’ll see her next week. Probably.”

Conchata brings a cup to her mouth while giving him a miffed look.

“And you’re not worried about her? What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing has gotten into me,” Miguel replies calmly. His relatives are staring at him like he’s grown two heads.

“Did you two fight?” one of his aunts asks.

Miguel didn’t understand how this was anyone else’s business, but from the looks of it, it seems that his mother has already told it.

“Can I just finish my food, please?”

His mother thumps her cup against the table with more force than necessary.

“You’re never going to find a suitable woman if you keep acting like this. I know you hurt her somehow and you need to fix it.”

“Ma,” Gabriel interrupts with a hushed tone. “Right here? At the table? Seriously?”

She ignores him and stares at Miguel, as it’s supposed to urge him to obey her. His appetite is long gone.

“I have a suitable woman-“

“Mijo, no. You have stars in your eyes. You’re young, so I know you can’t see it yet, but it’s almost time for you to start planning properly for the future. I can only let your playing go on for so much longer.”

Miguel stares at her, eyes not blinking once. Gabriel anxiously looks back and forth between them.

“Who is up for Abuela’s famous cake? Mm mm mm, I know I am!” he tries, only getting a small portion of the table to move.

Miguel gets up to follow them, plate in his hand heavy and half-eaten.

They’re back at square one.

He’s not sure how many more times he can restart.

GymRat!Miguel who texts you before he knocks out.

He stares at the blinking line, thinking of all that he wants to say, but not really knowing how to put it.

“Happy Thanksgiving mi luz”

“I miss you more than ever today”

“I miss you every day”

He stops himself and turns his phone off.

GymRat!Miguel who does a light jog Friday morning.

He’s been having far too many days of wallowing and feasting.

The November air wakes him up completely.

GymRat!Miguel who thinks he still has THC in his bloodstream when your name pops up on his screen as he’s checking his miles.

He opens it too fast, heart racing faster than what any exercise could do to him.

It’s a link to your calendar, blocks of blues and pinks covering the screen. He sees that your last final is next Thursday, and his plan is already in motion.

He hearts your text and stops himself from spamming you with emojis and pictures.

He’s ready to see you.

GymRat!Miguel who has never been more happy for his coding professor being a recluse and making their final submission online.

He knew for a fact Xina was definitely still processing everything. Quite frankly, he didn’t want to see her unless she was ready to apologize to you.

He tried not to stew on it, his mom’s insinuation putting a bad taste in his mouth.

He had finals to focus on and a girlfriend to win back so he pushed thoughts of crumbling friendship to the back of his mind.

GymRat!Miguel who sits in the hallway of the art building. It was becoming a familiar sight for someone who couldn’t draw a stick figure to save his life.

He waits for the studio door to open, leg bouncing involuntarily. He wasn’t sure when it would end, so he got there about thirty minutes after it started.

Maybe that was a bad idea, simply because he feels like he’s about to sweat out of the stupid button down and sweater he chose to wear. The thick knitting was starting to suffocate him.

Pulling at the chain around his neck, he wonders if he can appeal to you like he did around this time last year.

The door opens in the middle of his tenth time rehearsing what he was going to say. A few students walk out, arms full of canvases as they chat about whatever.

Miguel stands, big bouquet in his hands and heartbeat in his ear. The students notice him and shuffle out of his way as he heads towards the studio entrance.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you talking with a classmate.

You’re both bent over some, engrossed in conversation.

Miguel sees you laugh before you stand up straight. The guy next to you looks familiar.

He rises too, and his build and height become all of the focus. His hand lands on the middle on your back and slowly begins to fall down.

Miguel is building the formation of your name at the back of his tongue, anger climbing before he can really think about it.

You grab the guy’s arm and yank it off, a smack on his shoulder to follow.

Miguel stops himself with an ugly sound, alerting you both to turn and look at him.

GymRat!Miguel who hides the bouquet behind his back, not wanting you to see it yet. Not when your friend was making him shoot daggers with his eyes.

You walk over to him eyes curious, and Miguel thinks that there was no way in this lifetime, no way in this timeline, that you weren’t made for him.

“Hi,” Miguel starts.

“Hi,” you repeat back.

“We’re matching.”

Miguel couldn’t help but to sound giddy about it. He was more than ecstatic about it. You both looked like a couple, therefore you are a couple.

You purse your lips and nod, “That we are. Did you spy on me?”

Miguel copies you and shakes his head.

“You look different.”

“Ah. I uh, I ate good.”

You pat his stomach, fingers tentative and soft, “I see.”

Miguel wants to say something back but your eyes are scanning him with a small light similar to your anniversary night.

He breathes in and puffs his chest up a bit, like a bird trying to show off his pretty feathers to win over his lady. The corners of your lips twitch, holding back your smile.

That alone brightens Miguel up.

GymRat!Miguel who tries not to deflate when your classmate slash friend slash him-imposter makes his way into an A and B conversation.

“I haven’t seen you around campus before,” he puts his right hand out, “I’m Royce.”

Miguel’s eyes flit to you and you look up to the ceiling avoiding his look with your hands behind your back. He brings his left hand out, still poorly hiding his gift for you, twisting his wrist to shake Royce’s hand.

“Miguel.”

“Strong grip you’ve got there, Miguel,” Royce smiled, lip piercing shining. The chains attached to his pants clinked together as be let go.

“Just happy to meet new people.”

Royce pulls the sleeves of his sweater up and grins, like he knew something Miguel didn’t. The fullness of his tattoos contrasted his skin.

“Likewise. What else do you have there?” he tilts his head.

You push him in his side, Royce’s laugh echoing of the studio ceiling, “Go away. You’re so irritating.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going. I’m guessing this means our late night session is rain checked?” he asks as your eyebrows raise.

He barely dodges as you pick up a ruler and swing at him, laughing as your professor tiredly asks you both to chill out.

Royce calms down, grabs his things, and hugs you goodbye, black hair brushing against your head.

“See you later. Bye, Miguel,” he sings, hand waving.

Miguel makes a line with his lips as he watches him leave.

“Interesting guy.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty fun,” you say, watching Miguel’s lips. “You ok?”

His face shifted, “I should be asking you that after everything.”

“Hm,” your eyes casted down. “Well, you’re here, so I think that counts for something.”

GymRat!Miguel who presents the bouquet to you, nervous of your reaction.

“It’s a small start, but I, I hope that we can still be together. I talked to Xina like you asked and I want to go somewhere with you to really say everything. All truths on the table.”

Your mouth wobbles as your eyes light up from the fairy lights woven throughout the green and golden roses.

“I’m sorry it’s not as big as it’s supposed to be.”

The woman he ordered them from was stacked with birthday and anniversary bouquets. He paid more than he should to get his flowers finished faster.

“‘You are my Evangeline’?” you ask, fingers going over the silky petals.

“Sí,” his hands cover yours over the bottom of the bunch. “La luz de mi vida, mi estrella. Mi bella Evangeline.”

You pout, stopping yourself from falling, only to plant your face in his chest, glasses and all.

Miguel wraps his arms around you, confused.

“You make me so weak,” you mumble.

His hands clutch onto your sweater, heart warm.

“I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing.”

You move your head, cheek pressed against his chest, “Of course you don’t. C’mon.”

His sweater is a little damp but he doesn’t mention it.

GymRat!Miguel who wants to skip as he follows you back to your dorm, but your wet oil paint canvases are in his hands. One wrong move, and his pants will be stained with whatever color landed on him.

He watches as you cradle your flowers to your chest, glancing down whenever you were waiting to cross the street.

“Do you like them?”

“Yes. They’re beautiful.”

He could do a backflip.

GymRat!Miguel who takes his shoes off by your door.

Your dorm smells like oranges and cherries, something so different than the pinecones and brown leaves outside.

“Where do want me to put these?” he asks, holding the sides of your paintings with all of his focus.

You turn and laugh at his stiff stance. His arms were stretched out to a slanted T and his feet were placed together.

“Just sit them up against the wall. They won’t bite you,” you say.

“Ok,” he says and awkwardly puts them down. He pauses his hands in front of them afterwards in case they fall.

You go to sit at your desk, placing the flowers down.

“Is Jess here?” you hear Miguel ask.

“No, she’s gone for winter break already.”

You survey your desk, looking for anything else to focus on. You brought him here, you asked for him to prove himself, yet it’s barely been two weeks since you told him that. You feel silly for it.

Still, when you don’t hear or feel him for a while, you call his name.

“Miguel?”

“What’s this?” he asks.

Spinning around, you see he’s by the end of your bed, on the floor rummaging through a box.

“You packed my stuff up?” he holds up a hoodie that you only let him wear shortly before it finds its way back into your closet. His eyebrows turn, limbs heavy as he pulls out gift after jacket after picture. So many things that marked his time together with you.

“Looking at everything was too much for me. I did it the night we fought. It helped me to focus and not,” you threw your hands up, “simmer on my boyfriend sleeping with someone who is practically the opposite of me.”

Miguel pushes the box to the side and crawls towards you. It was an odd sight to see him inching steadily across your big rug. He stops and sits in front of you, face upset.

“I really wish you would listen to me. I wish you would believe me.”

“I’m trying-“

“No, baby,” Miguel says, pulling your chair towards him. You were too far away. “You’re not. You’re blocking me out.”

You blink, fingers picking at your nails.

“Do you remember that time I said I wasn’t going to let you go?” Miguel wraps your legs around his sides and slots his head on your thigh. “I was serious about that. You aren’t supposed to let me go either.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know.”

“So if you know, why did you let me go?”

You took a deep breath.

“Because I was hurting, Miguel. I painted this picture in my head of you two being this perfect, ideal couple because of….jealousy? Insecurity? I don’t know. I would see you two in the library sometimes or standing in line for food together, close and wrapped up in a bubble. I kept telling myself that you both were friends. These are the things that friends do. I would leave before I could give myself time to get stupidly upset. But when we were all hanging out together, you kept defending everything she was doing.”

Miguel thinks back to the comments and snide remarks he let slide and wants to shake that version of himself out of delusion.

“Then, there were the messages that weren’t going through, the calls that were getting dropped. Sometimes, I saw Xina holding you,” your voice faltered. “And she’d wear things I could find in my closet and I thought I was being punked. So, when I saw you on your birthday and took a leap of faith, I was destroyed when she was texting your phone.”

You couldn’t take it. You thought he lied to your face for months.

Miguel closed his eyes, trying to form what he wanted to say.

He’s thinking about how stupid he was to not see your pain. The signs were all there, or at least, the times when he should have stepped in were.

That aside, he was upset. Upset at the situation, upset that his relationship has been torn by someone who barely acknowledged him for a year, upset at you.

He didn’t want another girl, he didn’t need another girl, and even if by some sick and terrible decision, he decided to part ways with you, he would never choose Xina.

She couldn’t love him the way you do and what she did to him showed that.

She couldn’t make him feel the way you do. You left him with butterflies, you made him excited. You brought him so much joy.

She couldn’t care for him the way that you did. She would rather hang him out to dry to make herself look good before she thought about how he felt about something.

She couldn’t even confess to him without hurting him, without trying to shift her chances of being with him. It sucks that her life was changing so rapidly against her will, but that didn’t mean she had to create a whirlwind for him to suffer through, too.

It’s so irritating how she came in and swept up his time, his life, and your confidence, but it’s more frustrating for you to have to even wonder if she could replace you.

Miguel’s mind is going a thousand miles per minute, head starting to hurt with how aggravated he was.

“Don’t cry,” you say reaching up to his face, sniffling. “Please, don’t cry.”

He didn’t even notice he was. He realizes then that his thoughts were made aloud.

“’M sorry,” he says, face scrunching up. He leans into your hand, eyes closed as the tears fall. “I’m sorry for everything. But I’m angry that you keep thinking that you’re not worth my love. You’re worth it. You’re worth so much more than what I can give you. But I feel so lucky that you’re giving me the chance to be a part of your life, so I want you to love yourself, too.”

You nod once, twice, before your palms cover your face and you’re sobbing. Miguel pulls you down to his lap, holding you tight. He hated that you were fighting these thoughts alone, but now that he’s aware of everything he’ll try his best again to give you the love you needed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair like a mantra.

Through your sorrow, your relief, you everything, you echo his words, “I’m sorry, too. I should have trusted you more.”

“True,” Miguel says and you laugh in the midst of your aches. “But I still love you.”

“I love you, too. I never stopped.”

He squeezes you tighter, heart feather light.

GymRat!Miguel who eventually gets you comfortable, the two of you settling down on the giant plush bean bag sofa that you’ve stuffed under your dorm bed.

He was prepared to wine and dine you, but you insisted on videos and some warm, fulfilling fast food. The true college dream.

You laid on his chest, watching as the man on screen yelled as his character opened the door to a bathroom and a stranger was fixing the sink. Miguel tensed under you, hands gripping the waist of your lounging pants.

It was making up for the Halloween you two spent apart.

“Too scary?” you move your head to look at his face.

His mouth was twisted up, heart beating, “No…”

“Then, why are you holding me so tight?”

“A boyfriend can’t hold his girlfriend?”

You grinned.

You didn’t know how much you missed him calling you his girlfriend until he was less than a centimeter away from you.

A scream followed by a line of curses comes from your laptop speakers, Miguel gasping and squinting at the screen, eyes almost squeezing shut.

“You know, we don’t have to watch this,” you try your best to turn your body so that you were fully on top of him. “We can watch something else.”

Miguel focused on your face, eyes fighting to not look at your lips, “Like what?”

“We can watch a cooking competition. I know you have some documentaries and video essays saved up. We could watch those.”

Miguel thinks he could really be a lip reader. Your lips were moving pretty fast, but he thinks he got most of it.

“You want to use the kitchen this late? It might be closed.”

You slide your hand up his chest, comforting through the thin shirt. Your lips move again and Miguel blinks slowly trying to keep up.

A touch on his jaw has him look up.

“Did you hear me?”

Miguel moves his head in a circle, answer going from yes to no.

“What are you thinking right now?”

He feels you out, hands slowly going down your back and circling the area where your thighs curve out into your ass.

“How much I need to kiss you.”

“Oh really?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Then maybe, you should put those words into action.”

That was all he needed to pull you up, mouth going to yours like a magnet. You make a startled noise as he opens his mouth to slide his lip from your jaw to the bottom of your lip.

You open your mouth with his, thumbs rubbing against his sideburns as he hums against your tongue. The sound of the push and pull of your lips fills the small space under your bed. The tale of the girl and her winter vacation long forgotten in the background.

His hands go under your waistband, palms bringing extra warmth as he squeezes over your underwear.

“I missed this,” he sighs, mouth and hands working together to make you melt into him. He was starting to grind you against him, humming low in his throat.

“Kissing me or something else?” you open your eyes a little, watching his eyelashes against his cheek.

He pushes up against you, bean bag shifting down, “Everything.”

“Cheeky.”

“More like charmed.”

The two of you were glued to each other long enough for the hour long video to end, only the glow of your fairy lights and lamps lighting your room.

Both of your shirts were pulled up, your chest smooshed against his. Miguel had one hand around your waist, massaging your side, and another pulling your underwear between your lips so that you had something extra to feel as you grind against his groin.

“Bebecita,” Miguel says after you let his tongue from your lips. He pecks you in between his words, hungry. “Let’s move this to the bed.”

He kisses down your jaw, making no effort to get up.

“I don’t have any condoms and unless you’re willing to drive out to get some-”

Miguel removes a hand to reach into his pocket.

“Did you just have that on you?” you ask looking at the pack of condoms in his hand.

“No. I got them when I went to go get clothes.”

You tut, “So you just thought we were going have sex? You’re not even supposed to be in here right now.”

He slides his fingers down between your legs, pressing on your lips over cotton, “Of course not, bebe. I’m not an animal.”

He rubs and sucks a kiss into your neck. You’re so lost in him that you didn’t even realize that you were beginning to push back against his fingers. The moan you let out brings you back to reality.

Seeing Miguel’s smug face made you hide yours in his chest.

“Just try not to be too loud. I don’t know if my neighbor is still here or not,” you muffled into his skin.

GymRat!Miguel who really didn’t give a fuck about the neighbors.

He thinks he wants them to hear. It’s been too long since he had you, his decency was thrown out of the window.

Right now, he was head first, indulging, sucking at the entrance of your heat. You were on your knees, ass in his face, and feet hanging off the bed. You were already so wet from earlier, but now he has you dripping down his face onto the floor, moaning into your pillow.

He didn’t hear you over himself as he gripped your skin to spread you over his tongue. Your thighs were shaking like a leaf, feet occasionally kicking as Miguel found his pocket to make you suck him in.

You sounded off into the silk case below you, trying not to make yourself louder than the music you put on.

Miguel was satisfied that you came on his tongue, but didn’t like you censoring yourself not one bit.

“I want to try something new,” he states into your skin, sucking your clit through the aftershocks.

You only give him a shaky thumbs up, mind still finding its other pieces.

GymRat!Miguel who has you flat against your stomach along the bed. There really was barely any room to do this, but he was going to make it work.

You had a long mirror in your room that wasn’t attached to the wall, so beforehand, he brought it over to lean against the desk and turn it towards the top of your bed. He saw the confusion in your face through the glass, but he only smiled and went right back to you.

Now, he was holding one cheek over as he slid in slowly. From the mirror, he could see your face scrunch up. He shifted his knees, watching.

“¿Estás bien?” he asks. “Want me to slow down? Pull out?”

“No,” you keen, constricting around him. He sucked air in through his teeth, feeling you suck him in. “I just haven’t felt you in a while.”

He leans to kiss up your back, taking fat in between his lips to mark it as his. He fights the urge to just bite and stay there for a while.

“Whose fault is that, pretty?” he teases, dragging his lips to the back of neck.

You look to your left and pout at him through the mirror. He looks back, eyes scanning your naked upper half.

You arch your back and tighten around him. He thinks you’re a menace.

“Yours,” you tease back.

“Yeah?” his left hand grabs your waist, thumb pressing into the small of your back. He slides out a bit, hips elevated. “Let me fix that, then.”

His hips dip back into you, smack of his skin against yours. The bed creaks and Miguel watches your eyelids fall.

“Do you want a fast solution?” Miguel says right in your ear. “Or should we do some deeper research?”

He snaps his hips again, leaning down and pressing his weight onto you. Your hands curl up against the mattress, mouth open but only letting out gasps and breaths. Miguel nearly pulls all the way out, then swerves back in, pushing your voice out of you.

“It sounds like you want to pull from some scholarly articles,” Miguel whispers. He’s barely picking up a sweat while you’re hot everywhere. “It’s unclear.”

The springs of the mattress sing, metal and wood bed frame keeping a steady tempo against the wall.

You can’t even focus enough to tell him to shut up, the position you were in knocking the wind out of you. You start to hide your face in your pillow again, overwhelmed.

Miguel releases an offended sound.

“Nuh uh,” his right hand wraps in front of your neck. He pulls head up and turns it towards the mirror. “Look how pretty you look. Don’t hide.”

Your boyfriend might be a little nuts.

Your eyes can’t even focus but he’s holding your head steady and nibbling your earlobe as he waits. Your glasses are crooked and fogging up, you can’t even really see.

His name tries to fall from your mouth, but that “M” sound comes out broken and loud. He’s too busy being enchanted by how good you look.

“Mi preciosa princesita,” his hips stutter as you clench in response. “So gorgeous.”

He’s hitting your spot over and over again. You’re losing track of time.

“Don’t you think so too, baby?” Miguel huffs.

“Y-yes, Miggy, please.”

“Are you close?”

You nod, watching his eyes get darker.

“Ok, bebé. I still have some follow-up questions, though. Gonna answer them?”

A yell comes out as your answer, Miguel stroking faster.

He kisses your cheek and takes your glasses off. They were slipping and he was scared you were going to break them.

“Question one, do you want to do something for winter break?”

He opens your legs a bit, leaning and wrapping his hand under your body. His fingers find your clit and rub nice and slow. Overstimulated, you scream into the pillow. Miguel kisses your shoulder as he hums.

“I think that’s a yes,” Miguel says. Your back arches as you try to move your hips to match his pace. “Question two, what do you want for Christmas? It’s getting late, but I’ll find it. I swear.”

“Fuck, Miguel,” you say as his hands move to your breasts. He can’t do much, but there’s still something so good about him all over you.

“You want this again? We can arrange that.”

He was close and you could hear it in the way his voice wavered.

“Last question,” he rose off of you, hands pushing against your back. Your body couldn’t move as he slapped his pelvis against your ass. The recoil sounded off in the room and the entire bed jumped with his movement.

“Are you still mad at me?”

Your back arched as you felt him breach deep enough to make you go crazy. He was mumbling something but your thoughts were swimming with his dick inside of you about to introduce another orgasm.

“Say it back, baby. You gotta say it back,” Miguel’s voice sounds out.

There might be a pool of drool growing under your face. Your boyfriend didn’t care, though. He would still want you to say that declaration through any obstruction.

“I love you, Miguel. Te amo tanto.”

His hips quicken, bed against the wall like a drumline.

When he cums, his body tightens and releases, weight letting go as he covers you. He’s breathing hard, “te amo,” his proverb to you.

You blink at the mirror, vision blurry, but the comforted and satisfied expression of Miguel still recognizable.

You could stay like this, breaths slowly becoming tighter until you fall asleep in his arms.

The bed gives a loud snap, scaring Miguel into nearly falling off of it with you on top.

It’s leaning a little more to the back left than it should.

“Did you just break my fucking bed?”

He panics, “I-it was a joint effort!”

“Miguel.”

GymRat!Miguel who thanks whatever entity it is out there afterwards that it was just a screw that came out and not the bed actually completely splitting.

“This is why the beds are tiny in the first place,” you say from the bean bag, watching him screw it back together.

“I would have covered the costs if it was actually broken. We should look into sturdy bed frames for the future, though.”

“Oh?”

Miguel pauses, “Not that I was thinking about that!”

“You already have a list, don’t you.”

You watch his hands stutter as he puts your screwdriver back in your bin.

GymRat!Miguel who suggests you lay on top of him in the bed.

The two of you were freshly showered and ready to close your eyes any minute now.

“We should take breaks more often. I feel like jelly,” you say with a low voice, drawing circles over his chest.

He grabs your wrist, voice serious in the dark, “Don’t joke like that.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right. You made up for the last time you didn’t make me come.“

“Baby.”

You giggled into him as he pinched your sides.

“What about you and Royce? Your friend whose name starts with an R and ends with an E.”

“It’s not my fault rose and Royce are similar!”

“But you knew what you were doing. How cruel,” he pouts.

You pat his cheek!

“Well, you don’t have to worry because he has a boyfriend.”

“Oh! So, he’s gay.”

“Bi. Open relationship.”

“Oh,” Miguel replied, less happy.

“I kind of just want one lover, though.”

“Oh,” Miguel says again, more happy. “What kind of lover?”

You stay quiet for so long, Miguel thinks you’ve gone to sleep.

There’s a lot of things that you love about him. His kindness, his heart, his determination, his wit. Tonight, though, he truly took your breath away.

And you realize, he’s always done that.

“The kind that loves me the way that you do.”

Miguel’s chest rises and falls like a wave that gets weaker as it hits the shore.

“Me too, mi luz. Me too.”

divider by: fanguro + adornedwithlight 🩵

a/n: Our family is has been brought back together!! Also, if you get which horror game they were watching, you get a gold star.

Please very mindful, very cutesy, very demure in the comments. Don’t ask about the next part unless you have something nice/constructive to say to go with it. And no, this is not the last time Xina will be in this story. But it’ll get better!

The taglist is full, so if you would like to be informed of future updates, check my blog occasionally (💀) or subscribe to the story on AO3!

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @emelie-s-h @lake-lili

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zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

Note

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

just some of my commentaries while i read <3 ⬇️

Rafe Cameron

oh this buildup was TOOO good i audibly SCREAMED hahaha

He was leaning against a stack of crates, his sharp blue eyes watching the scene with an unsettling intensity. The heir to the Cameron fortune, he was the last guy you expected to see here, in the heart of Caleb’s operation. But the rumors had been swirling for months—Rafe had gone off the deep end, running drugs and getting involved with people like your boyfriend. It was a far cry from the pampered Kook prince he’d once been, and the transformation was as terrifying as it was tragic.

i’m imagining that he has a cigarette in his mouth, a sort of detachment to the situation, as his eyes sweeps over the interactions and then YOU (SCREAMING 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)

Especially not when Caleb was only a few steps away, talking to a man known for leaving bodies in the marsh when deals went south.

a MURDERER (he’s so hot)

“What the hell happened to you?” His voice was low, almost felt dangerous in a way that was different from Caleb's. There was no threat in it. Not to you.

giggling like a schoolgirl rn

“You need to get out of here,” he said, “You can’t keep letting him do this to you.”

why do u care RAFE HAVE U BEEN HURT BEFORE

But as that piece of shit dragged you down the dock, his mind drifted back to his mother. He could still remember the bruises she used to try to hide, the way she’d flinch when Ward’s voice got too loud, too sharp. And he could remember the times when his dad’s rage wasn’t directed at her but at him. Because Rafe looked too much like her, Ward Cameron had a twisted way of showing his grief when she passed away.

oh this characterization eats

You didn’t think guys like him ever used that word. It felt foreign hearing it fall from his lips.

LOVE A DANGEROUS PRETTY BOY WHO BEGS

“I’ll kill him first. I’m not afraid of him princess,” he said, and you believed him.

i love him so much pls 🛐🛐🛐

But for now, you didn’t need his anger —you needed help, comfort. You needed him to be there for you.

the angst and build-up was so INCREDIBLE and i absolutely adore how this played out

He’d kill Caleb if he ever attempted to take you.

PAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUSSSEEEEEEEEEEEE I THOUGHT WE WOULD GET A CONFRONTATION A BEATDOWN AS U WILL 😭😭😭 oh fuck i love this so much

💌 something about this specific fic just melts my heart; i love first and foremost how u characterize reader as not someone weak, but someone in a tough situation. and i love how rafe is rough and gentle with reader 🥹 my FAVORITE part was the second half where reader came up to rafe’s door, i’m so proud of her (me?) for reaching out for help and how PROTECTIVE rafe is

Dang. I so bad want to see a sweet reader in a toxic relationship with the drug leader of a gang. And that said gang has a feud with another one. Rafe’s and he is the leader of that gang. And despite being a criminal, Rafe has some honor and would never treat a girl badly. And there is lingering tension from a distance of Rafe being all ’’I could treat you better’’ and wanting to help her get out of that relationship while she thinks that all guys must be just like her boyfriend, so she has not thought further about Rafe beyond that he is attractive.

okay so this turned out a lil different and i feel like i'd have to write another part to develop their relationship and the longing....so...

two birds, one stone - r.c (+18)

pairing: drugdealer!rafe x sweet!reader

warnings: domestic violence; mentions of drugs and drug dealing;

word count: 4.7k

You stood at the edge of the dock, the wooden planks creaking under your beat up shoes as you nervously glanced at the group of men clustered by the boats.

Caleb, your boyfriend, had dragged you here without warning, his mood volatile as ever. You’d tried to avoid his attention when he’d pulled up outside the rundown house you’d been staying in the cut, but he’d simply sneered, ordering you into the car without a word.

Now, as you watched him move through the crowd of his men, you felt like jumping into the water was a much better option. He was dangerous on a good day, but when he was in one of his moods, it was like walking on a knife’s edge. And tonight, that edge felt particularly sharp. Drowning in the sea felt much more forgiving than being at the mercy of his hands.

He was deep in conversation with Barry, one of his most trusted dealers, his posture tense as always, and his tone clipped. Barry also had a reputation for being as ruthless as they came when he wanted to, and the fact that Caleb was speaking to him in such hushed tones only made you want to get the hell away from this place. You knew better than to ask questions, though; Caleb didn’t tolerate curiosity, especially from you.

Your eyes drifted across the dock, taking in the faces of the other men—rough, hardened, with the kind of dead eyes that came from too many years in the game. But then you landed on someone who didn’t quite fit the mold. Someone you hadn’t seen in years.

Rafe Cameron.

His eyes flicked over to you, and you hated every second of it, your skin prickling as if he could see right through you—the forced indifference, the carefully crafted apathy that kept you safe.

He didn’t know you, not really. You were just another face in a town too small for secrets, a girl tied up in something ugly. The most you'd ever shared was a passing glance or a half-hearted smile at some party years ago, still in your teen years.

You knew of him, of course—who didn’t? The Cameron name carried weight, even when it was whispered behind closed doors.

“Come here,” Caleb’s voice snapped you out of your starting, and you flinched, quickly turning away as you moved toward your boyfriend, hoping the hadn’t noticed you ogling another man.

The word boyfriend felt wrong, too soft for what Caleb really was to you. He was more like a personal nightmare than a partner, and the bruises hidden beneath your clothes were proof enough of that.

He grabbed your arm, pulling you close to him as he continued his conversation with Barry as you tried not too wince. God forbid he saw you whining. His fingers dug into your skin even harder, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. He liked to do this in front of his men—show them that he was in control, that you were his and his alone. It was all about power with him and you’d learned the hard way not to resist.

“Keep an eye on her,” he muttered to Barry before turning his attention back to you, his grip tightening. “Stay here, and don’t move. I’ve got business to take care of.”

You nodded obediently, not trusting yourself to speak. Everything made Caleb tick when he was in this mood. The last thing you wanted was to provoke him. But as he stepped away, Barry’s eyes followed him, and you couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching you, again.

As if on cue, Rafe pushed off the crates and sauntered over to where you stood, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. As if he didn’t know men like Caleb would kill girls like you if they breathed the same air as other men.

He still looked the same, maybe a little bit older but he still carried that same detached arrogance.

“You look like you’re in a real bad spot, princess,” Rafe drawled, his smooth voice setting your nerves on fire. He tilted his head slightly, watching you as if trying to figure out what you were doing here, tangled up in something so beneath someone like you.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, hoping he’d just lose interest and walk away. You didn’t want to be on anyone’s radar tonight, especially not his. Especially not when Caleb was only a few steps away, talking to a man known for leaving bodies in the marsh when deals went south.

But Rafe didn’t move.

Instead, he stepped closer, leaning just close enough that you could smell the faint scent of smoke on him.

“I’ve seen girls like you before,” he said, his voice lower now, “Think you can handle a guy like him? You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”

If he only knew. Even after being tangled up with the worst kind of people, there was still a sort of naivety to him. You knew he was never the kind of guy to settle down, be in a relationship, so how could he ever possibly understand that you weren’t here because you wanted to? You were because you had to. Because you’d been stupid enough to fall for Caleb’s shit and crazy enough to let your parents kick you out.

There was no way out. There was no help. No one.

“I’m not playing,” you shot back, you needed him to back off, to stop poking at wounds that were already there. His eyes narrowed slightly, catching the edge in your voice, but he didn’t retreat. If anything, he seemed more intrigued.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to where Caleb stood.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you muttered, turning your face away. If Caleb saw this, saw you talking to someone he didn’t approve of, especially Rafe, you knew there’d be hell to pay later. But he wasn’t making it easy. He was still standing there, too close.

You lifted your hand, fixing the annoying pieces of hair that kept clinging to your face in the heat. It took you less than a second, but it was enough for your shirt to ride up the slightest. His eyes flickered down, following the fast movement, and that was all it took for him to see. To notice. The bruises on your stomach.

“What the hell happened to you?” His voice was low, almost felt dangerous in a way that was different from Caleb's. There was no threat in it. Not to you.

You instinctively crossed your arms over your stomach, trying to cover the bruises, but it was too late. He’d already seen them.

“I said I’m fine,” your voice trembled despite your efforts to sound strong. You looked away, unable to meet his eyes, afraid of what you might see there—pity, disgust, maybe even understanding.

But he didn’t back off. He took another step closer, his hand reaching out like he wanted to touch you, to see if they were real. But he stopped himself.

“How long’s he been doing this to you?”

You bit your lip. The last thing you needed was to cry in front of him, or worse, in front of Caleb. You couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not here. Not now.

“It’s none of your business,” you gritted out, hoping that would be enough to make him stop asking questions. But he just shook his head.

“You need to get out of here,” he said, “You can’t keep letting him do this to you.”

No one had ever talked to you like this, like you were worth saving, like you deserved better. But it also terrified you. Because the truth was, you didn’t see a way out. Not without making everything worse.

Before you could respond, Caleb showed up, barking away, “What the fuck are you two talking about?”

You flinched, immediately stepping back from Rafe as Caleb stormed over, his eyes flashing with suspicion.

“Just meeting the missus, calm the fuck down.”

"Is that right?" Caleb sneered, his voice dripping with venom. He grabbed your arm roughly, yanking you closer to him as if to reassert his claim on you. The pain shot through your arm, but you bit down on your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction, “She doesn’t look like she’s in the mood to talk to anyone, Cameron, does she?” He hissed, his grip tightening until you felt your skin bruising beneath his fingers. “So why don’t you back off before I make you?”

Caleb was unpredictable, and you knew how easily he could lose control. If Rafe pushed him any further, it could get ugly fast.

But Rafe didn’t back down. He held Caleb’s glare with a chilling calmness that made your stomach twist. It was like he was daring Caleb to make a move, to see what would happen. You had to do something, anything.

“Caleb, it’s nothing,” you blurted out, forcing yourself to sound calm even though you were shaking inside. “He was just saying hi. That’s all.”

He didn’t look convinced, but his brown eyes flicked back to you, his grip loosening slightly. “You better not be lying to me,” he warned, his voice carrying a promising threat you were all too familiar with.

“I’m not,” you promised, “Please, let’s just go.”

He turned back to Rafe, “Stay the fuck away from her, Cameron,” He spat, his voice laced with threat. “Or you’ll regret it.”

Rafe didn’t snap back, but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his muscles tensed as if ready to jump into action at any moment. You knew he got into fights daily back when he was younger, you just hoped he knew better now.

“Come on,” Caleb growled, pulling you away from Rafe, his grip still painfully tight.

You followed him, your heart pounding in your chest, praying that Rafe wouldn’t do something reckless. You were tired of getting caught up in the crossfire between men’s ego’s.

As he dragged you away, back to your personal hell, you risked a glance back at Rafe. He was still standing there, watching you, it made your skin crawl. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but you knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

And that terrified you more than anything else.

Rafe watched you leave, every instinct screamed at him to rip you away from that piece of shit and deal with the fallout later, but he knew better. He’d seen how this played out too many times before, in his own house, behind closed doors where no one was watching. He didn’t know why he cared. He shouldn’t care. You weren’t his problem, and Caleb was the kind of guy who didn’t let go of what he thought was his.

His dad had been the same as Caleb—charming on the outside, maybe for the first months, but vicious once he got behind closed doors. He had learned from an early age that there was no escape, no safe place to hide. He’d spent his whole life trying to be good enough, strong enough, but it never mattered. In the end, he was just a punching bag, a constant reminder of everything his dad had lost when his mom passed. Even if Ward never had her in the first place.

Seeing you with those same bruises, that same haunted look in your eyes, it did something to him. He had promised himself, despite everything he did, he’d never lay hands on a woman. He wasn’t the type to get involved in other people’s problems—hell, he had enough of his own. But this was different, it felt all too familiar, a little too close to home.

The way you tried to pretend everything was okay, how you tried to act like those bruises weren’t killing you day by day. He’d seen his mom do the same thing, day after day, pretending like the world wasn’t falling around her. He’d seen it in the mirror, too, in the years after she died, when he’d become his dad’s favorite target.

And that look in your eyes, the one that said you’d given up on anyone helping you, that you had accepted your fate—it pissed him off more than anything. Because he’d seen that look before, too. He’d worn it himself for years. But no one had come to save him, no one had pulled him out before he fell too deep. He’d had to claw his way out on his own, and even now, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever really made it.

He knew he was a shitty person, a drug dealer who’d fucked up more lives than he could count. But seeing you with Caleb, it felt personal. Like something in him was telling him he couldn’t walk away from this. That if he did, he’d be just as bad as his old man.

Rafe’s jaw tightened as he watched Caleb shove you into his car, barking orders at the men around him like he was some kind of kingpin. The way you shrank back, trying to disappear into yourself, made his stomach turn. He couldn’t stand seeing all of it. Not again.

He wasn’t going to let you end up like his mom. Not if he could help it.

Three days later, you found yourself back in town. You didn’t want to be out, not like this. But Caleb had sent you on an errand, yelling at you to get it done fast or face the consequences. You knew better.

Your arms ached as you held the grocery bag close, the weight of it pulling at the fresh bruises that painted your skin in painful hues of blue and purple. The collar of your shirt was pulled up high, hiding the dark marks on your neck, but nothing could stop the constant reminder of Caleb’s temper. Or the lack of it.

You kept your head down, hoping to get in and out of the store without anyone noticing you. The last thing you needed was to run into someone you knew, not that you still had any friends by this point. But still.

As you rounded the corner, you nearly collided with someone—tall, solid, and all too familiar. You looked up, startled, and found yourself staring into Rafe’s blue eyes.

He didn’t speak right away, scanning you it with the same intensity that made you want to run for you life. You quickly looked away, but not before he saw the discoloration peeking out from under your collar.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rough, but not unkind. It was the first time in days that someone had spoken to you without anger or disgust.

“Rafe,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out shaky. “I—I’m just—”

“Running errands for that asshole?” he cut in. His eyes flicked to the bag in your arms, noting how you winced when you shifted its weight.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that you’d been wanting to spill for the past twenty-four hours. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, didn’t want him to see just how broken you were.

“Let me see,” he demanded, his tone softer this time, but it made it clear he wasn’t asking.

“No.”

“Please.”

You didn’t think guys like him ever used that word. It felt foreign hearing it fall from his lips.

You hesitated, instinctively trying to make yourself look smaller, but the look in his eyes, the same fucking determination, made you realize there was no point in hiding it. Not from him. Not when he already knew.

Slowly, you pulled the collar of your shirt down, just enough to reveal the bruises on your neck, the ugly marks left by your boyfriend’s fingers. His eyes darkened, black consuming the blue, and his jaw tightened as he took in the sight. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, but you could feel the anger radiating off him, barely contained.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, fingertips itching to grab his gun and shove it down Caleb’s throat.

You weren’t used to anyone caring, let alone someone like him, and it made you want to run away even more.

“I told you, it’s none of your business,” you said, your voice coming out more defensive than you intended.

You were scared—scared of Caleb, scared of Rafe, and scared of what might happen if the two ever collided. The last thing you wanted was to drag him into your mess, no matter how much his concern awoke something in you that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Y’think I’m just gonna let you walk away like this?” Rafe’s voice was low, almost a growl, and he stepped closer. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, his fists clenched at his sides as if he was barely holding himself back from storming over to Caleb and finishing this for good.

“Rafe, please,” you whispered, your voice cracking as the tears you’d been holding back almost spilled over. “You don’t understand. He’ll kill me.”

“I’ll kill him first. I’m not afraid of him princess,” he said, and you believed him.

But that wasn’t the point. You were afraid, and that fear kept you trapped in a cycle you didn’t know how to break.

“Maybe you should be,” you muttered, trying to step around him, but he didn’t let you go that easily. His hand shot out, grabbing your arm—not rough like Caleb’s grip, but firm enough to stop you.

“Listen—"

“I don’t need your help,” you lied, hating the way your voice wavered. You wanted to believe you could handle it on your own, but the truth was, you couldn't.

Rafe’s grip on your arm loosened, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek before you could stop it. You quickly wiped it away, cursing yourself for showing weakness in front of him. But Rafe didn’t say anything. He just watched you.

“I need to go.”

You couldn’t stay here any longer, couldn’t let yourself believe that someone like Rafe Cameron could actually care about someone like you.

But as you turned to leave, he called after you, “I meant what I said.”

That night, as you lay in bed, bruises still aching, you couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe. About the way he looked at you, as if you were worth something, as if you weren’t just another broken girl in a world full of them. You wanted to believe him, but believing meant hoping, and hoping had only ever gotten you hurt. Still, the idea that someone—anyone—might care enough to try to help you was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Caleb was still out, probably meeting with Barry or some of the other guys, but you knew it was only a matter of time before he came back. And when he did, you had to be ready—ready to play the role he expected, ready to keep him calm. Ready to survive another night. You could feel your heart beating in your chest, the fear coiling tighter with every second.

Caleb would be back soon. And if he found out about your encounter with Rafe...You swallowed hard, the taste of bile rising in your throat. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t let him find out.

What if Rafe really could help you? What if there was a way out of this nightmare?

The bedroom door creaked open suddenly. You sat up instantly as Caleb stepped into the room, his eyes were bloodshot, and you could smell the alcohol on him even from across the room.

“Where the hell were you today?” he demanded, his voice slurred. You knew better than to lie, but the truth was just as dangerous.

“I was running the errands you asked me to,” you replied carefully, “I went to the store and came straight back. I swear.”

He stared at you, his eyes narrowing as if trying to decide whether or not to believe you. “You better not be lying to me,” he muttered, stumbling slightly as he moved toward you. “You know what happens when you lie.”

“I’m not lying,” you insisted, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “I did everything you asked.”

He stood over you now, his shadow falling across your bed like a dark omen. You braced yourself for what was coming, but instead of hitting you, he just stared down at you.

“You think I’m stupid?” he hissed suddenly, his hand lashing out to grab your wrist. The pain was immediate, but you bit down on your lip, refusing to cry out. “I know when you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not—” you started, but he cut you off, his grip tightening until you could feel the bones in your wrist grinding together.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” he roared, shaking you violently. “I know you were talking to someone. Who was it? Was it one of those Kook pricks? Were you flirting with them? Like the slut you are?”

The fear turned to cold dread as you realized he must have heard something about your run-in with Rafe. If he knew you’d been talking to him, there was no telling what he might do.

“No,” you lied quickly, desperation crawling up your throat, “I wasn’t talking to anyone. I swear, Caleb, it was just me.”

He stared at you for a long second, his eyes boring into yours but then his expression gave away into something ugly, something feral, and before you could react, his fist came down hard, striking you across the face.

The impact sent you sprawling back onto the bed, stars exploding in your vision as pain radiated through your skull. You tasted blood in your mouth, your lip split from the force of the blow, but you didn’t have time to recover before he was on you again, his hands around your throat.

“I’ll fucking kill you if I ever catch you with another man,” he snarled, his grip tightening until you couldn’t breathe. “Do you hear me? You’re mine, and I’ll fucking kill you before I let you go.”

You clawed at his hands, panic taking over you as your vision started to blur. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and the world was fading to black around the edges. But just as you thought it was over, he released you, shoving you away as if you were nothing more than a piece of trash.

You gasped for air, coughing and choking as you scrambled to get away from him, but he just laughed, a cold, heartless sound that made your blood run cold. You hated him.

“Don’t forget who you belong to,” he sneered, turning away as if you were no longer worth his attention. “Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

He staggered out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and you collapsed onto the bed, your body shaking with sobs you couldn’t hold back any longer.

Maybe you didn’t have to do this alone.

The next morning, when the sun rose and Caleb was passed out in a drunken stupor, you made a decision. You couldn’t keep living like this. And if there was even a chance that Rafe could help you, you had to take it.

Rafe wasn’t a stranger to darkness. He’d lived with it, fought against it, and at times, even embraced it. But seeing that same darkness reflected in your eyes had fucked him up in a way he wasn’t prepared for. He wasn’t sure if you’d believe him, if you’d actually reach out. But damn, he hoped you would. Rafe was about to head downstairs, maybe grab a drink to take the edge off, when he heard the faint sound of footsteps outside. It was late—too late for anyone to be dropping by Tannyhill unannounced. His curiosity piqued, he moved toward the window, peering out into the dim light of the porch.

And then he saw you.

You stood there, looking lost and broken, your shoulders hunched. Even from this distance, he could see the bruises on your face, the way you were holding yourself like every movement caused you pain. Without thinking, he moved toward the door, his pulse quickening. He wasn’t sure what had happened since he last saw you, but he knew it was bad. And more than anything, he knew that you needed him right now.

He reached the door just as the bell echoed through the stillness of the house. For a moment, he stood there, hand resting on the doorknob, trying to calm himself down. He could feel the tension radiating from you, even from the other side of the door, sensing the desperation in the way you leaned slightly forward, as if fearing the door might never open.

Rafe inhaled deeply before turning the knob, his heart racing as he faced you. The soft light from the porch cast gentle shadows across your face, accentuating the fresh bruises and tear-streaked cheeks. You stared at him for a moment, your eyes wide and glassy, and he could see the way your lower lip trembled as you tried to hold back more tears. He hadn’t felt such an incredible need to protect someone in years. He didn’t need to ask what happened—he could guess. And the thought of someone hurting you, making you feel like this, made him want to turn this whole town upside down.

But for now, you didn’t need his anger —you needed help, comfort. You needed him to be there for you.

“Help me,” you whispered, your voice so soft and broken that it almost undid him right there. “Please.”

Rafe didn’t hesitate. He reached out, his hands gentler than they’ve ever been as he pulled you inside, closing the door behind you. You were shaking, your whole body trembling like a leaf as if you were about to fall apart, and he could feel the tears soaking through his polo as you collapsed against him.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly, feeling the way your body shook with heart-wrenching sobs. He just held you, letting you cry it out, his hand gently stroking your hair as he tried to soothe you.

“It’s okay,” he murmured eventually, his voice a low murmur though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it for your benefit or his own. “You’re safe here. I’ve got you.”

He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you again. Not if he could help it. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you go through this alone.

“Come on,” he whispered, pulling back slightly to look down at you. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? You can stay here tonight. No one’s gonna bother you.”

He’d kill Caleb if he ever attempted to take you.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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kokokoula · 3 days ago

Text

drunk confessions

a/n: wow i haven't posted in a long while hahaha thanks for staying :) i'm so burnt out from exams please tolerate me🥲 again, not beta read, my beta reader is busy as heck because of a hellish sch system. also, i wrote all of this at 3am, i hope it's still readable TT (this is obvi in timeskip no underage drinking guys)

---

"i think i love you."

you rest your head on your palm, gazing at him with soft eyes and warm cheeks. you reek of alcohol; tsukishima doesn't seem to care.

the two of you sit by the bar at the far end, where the light jazz music gets faint. he's thinking clearly, only a bit red from a drink or two— or is it something else?— while you're flat out drunk. his eyes widen slightly at your confession, and pauses.

"don't say things you don't mean." tsukishima eventually brushes you off, pushing his glasses further up. despite that, his heart beats a little faster, and he hates it.

you splay out your arms across the countertop, burying your face in them. he takes the last swig of his drink. there is the distant sound of glasses clinking and a cheer.

"tsukki?" his name is a bit slurred as you turn to him again. your hair is in a tangled mess, locks of it falling over your eyes. he resists the urge to tuck them away and behind your ear.

tsukishima nudges your foot: a sign to continue.

"y'know, when i first met you, i thought you were an arrogant, self-centred bastard. i hated you." you state, fiddling with your empty shot glass. wow, and just when he thought things were getting intimate.

"where exactly are you going with this?" he frowns at you.

"we used to bicker about almost everything at school. i can't count how many times yamaguchi had to step in." you giggle, hiccuping at the end. you didn't seem to have heard him but he doesn't mind. he shakes his head, a small smile appearing on his face; you look so cute being lost in your own world.

"remember it was our last class, and it happened to rain that day? you laughed at me because i didn't bring an umbrella." yes, he remembers. tadashi was sick that day, and the both of you ended up getting lectured many times by teachers for your incessant arguments. he almost laughs at the thought of it.

"i didn't expect to find your umbrella in my shoe locker after you left, though. you said you had an extra when i confronted you about it but yamaguchi already told me you had returned home drenched." tsukishima's face starts to burn. shit, being reminded of how down bad he was—and still is— is embarrassing. he wishes he was much cooler about it.

"i couldn't accept that you were capable of being nice, let alone to me..." it's even more so because of you.

"...till i realised you're nothing like what i thought you were. you admit your own faults, are too hard on yourself, and incredibly encouraging of your friends in your own complicated way. hell, even to hinata and kageyama!" you're sitting upright now, your hands making exaggerated movements as you talk. you take a deep breath in.

"it's your fault that i can't stop thinking about you, and that i get so sickeningly happy when i see you. so shuddup, i do mean it when i said i think, no wait, i know i love you." you rebuke him, pointing your finger at him like an angry child.

you have done it. you've lit his face on fire with your words. he can't tear his eyes away from your piercing gaze.

tsukishima isn't the most affectionate person, but maybe it's the late hour, or the influence of the alcohol, because he reaches over to caress the back of your head and bring you closer to him. his lips softly presses against your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away. he sees your eyes sparkle.

since kei believes actions speak louder than words, he hopes you know that this, everything, means something.

#tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei fluff #tsukishima x you #haikyuu x you #i've been itching to post anything tsukki related

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 2 days ago

Note

Hey girl! I absolutely love your work. The way you write Desi reader is phenomenal

I was hoping you could write a Lando fic where he and Reader go to a trampoline park for a date and he's live streaming. He sees that she's very sweaty from all the fun and he comments on it and she says "as if you could make me this sweaty, Norris" AND IT GETS CAUGHT ON CAMERA

If you're not comfortable with the last part maybe only the trampoline park date?

Sweaty Opportunities ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

ᰔᩚ ln x reader 🧸ྀི

ᰔᩚ fluff + humour + smau 🧸ྀི

masterlist ☾☼

date days were y/n's favourite, even more than date nights. of course, date nights had a different class of its own. with the wine, and the fine dining, and the pretty dresses and suits that always end up on the floor of the living room because they couldn't wait to make it to the bedroom. it was amazing, definitely.

but, y/n tended to enjoy the date days more. it contained of spending the entire day exploring, eating, and just being kids. they would be in far more comfortable clothes, and would walk around hand-in-hand everywhere. most of their date days were usually lando's ideas, and they were always something reckless and exhilarating. it always made lando's face a pretty red that y/n could never stop kissing.

this particular date, lando had told her that he was going to be making another landolog since it had been a long time. y/n had readily agreed, well aware of how much lando enjoyed making the landologs.

"babe, are you ready?" his voice called out from the living room.

"coming!" y/n replied, trying to get her anklet untangled from her sock so that it didn't break.

lando stood at the door of the room, with the camera in his hand, "chat, this happens every time! i tell her we need to leave at 12, she starts getting ready 12!"

"liar! i was ready to go before you!"

"apparently not, seeing that i've worn my shoes and everything, and you still only have on sock on," lando teased.

"my anklet got stuck again," y/n looked at him with the best puppy eyes she could.

lando sighed, always unable to resist her cute face, "fine, hold the camera,"

she smiled, making a funny face at the camera before she turned it around to record lando. the man had knelt on the floor, and was focused on getting her anklet untangled.

"he's such a nice boy, taking care of me. mumma approves of you too, na," y/n cooed at him.

lando smiled, shaking his head at her, knowing that she was making fun of him. he made a sound from the back of his throat, acknowledging that he heard her. y/n ran her fingers through his hair, talking in the camera how soft his hair was, and how she was envious of it.

"alright, done," lando said, as he stood up after untangling the anklet. he offered his hand to y/n, and she took it, standing up. lando pulled her close to his chest, the camera stuck between them.

y/n laughed, "lan! you're crushing the camera!"

lando pressed a kiss to her lips, and said, "well, they didn't need to see that anyway,"

the two grabbed their essentials, still bickering and bantering, laughing into the camera, as they left the apartment, and into the car.

the camera recorded the couple singing (read as: screaming) taylor swift songs on their way to lando's surprise date location.

"where are we going?" y/n asked.

"we're almost there, lovie. a little more patience."

"look who's talking about patience!" y/n turned towards the camera, and said, "this man has the least amount of patience i've ever seen, okay?"

"that's not true!"

"you almost burned down our home because you decided to set the oven at double the temperature because you thought it would cook quicker!"

"logically, it makes sense!"

"its a miracle we have a roof over our heads, lando!"

he laughed, a loud, shrieking kind of laugh.

pulling into the parking lot, lando turned off the ignition, and quickly grabbed the camera to catch y/n’s face change from confusion, to understanding, to childlike excitement. he knew this was one of the few places y/n had always wanted to come to, and now, she would finally have the opportunity.

“you got me to a trampoline park!” y/n shrieked.

lando winced at the loud sound, but smiled nonetheless, “happy date day, baby!”

y/n wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s neck, the camera forgotten on his lap, as he hugged her back. “thank you, thank you, thank you!” she whispered.

“i love you,” he whispered back.

she kissed him, letting him know that she loved him too.

getting out of the car, y/n jumped excitedly as lando laughed, holding the camera. seeing lando lock the car, y/n immediately began running towards the entrance. zooming on the camera to show just how far she had ran, lando said, “chat, she’s a little crazy, but i’m so head over heels for her,”

following y/n inside, lando handed her the camera as she showed the place around and yapped. meanwhile, he paid for the tickets, and walked to where y/n was. she had been standing by the popcorn machine, talking to the camera like she was talking to another human. sneaking behind her, lando wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up. y/n laughed, but let him walk towards the entrance of the trampoline park.

she set the camera down, angling it towards them, as the couple removed their shoes, and stored it in one of the cubicles.

“so, how long are we here?” y/n asked.

“well, it’s three hours of jumping and bouncing-”

“that’s what she said,”

“-and then we go out for lunch, and have cheesecake for dessert, and back home, where we can either sleep or do other things if we have more energy,” lando finished.

y/n smacked his arm, “you better edit that out!”

“you’re the one with the dirty mind! i just meant we could bake something or have a movie marathon!”

“you’re lying, you liar!” lando laughed as he ran from y/n’s smack attack.

grabbing the camera, he ran inside, immediately bouncing and gaining more speed than y/n. but, she wasn’t far behind. though, once she began jumping on the trampolines, her smack attack on lando was quickly forgotten. the couple went through every zone the park had to offer, playing trampoline basketball, jumping into a ball pit, and obstacle courses that were almost everywhere.

y/n pushed lando often, laughing every time he fell and bounced back. lando returned the favour. they challenged each other to stupid things, like who could jump the highest.

“it’s not fair! you’re taller than me! of course, you jumped higher than i did!”

“that sounds like a you problem, lovie!”

“bitch!”

or, they challenged each other to who could fall the farthest in the ball pit.

“i totally won!”

“no, you didn’t! you moved the balls from the sides, so now we don’t know!”

“oh, quit crying just ‘cause you lost!”

“you lost!”

most of the challenges were unfair for y/n, given that lando only proposed the ones that would benefit him, and in her excitement, she wouldn’t realise it until after she lost. she did try to trick him and win, and that worked. lando said it didn’t count, but everyone knew who the boss was.

“ready? three, two, one, go!”

“ow, ow, ow, ow,”

“lovie? you okay? what’s wrong?”

“i think i twisted my ankle,”

“oh, baby, lemme see,”

“ha! tricked you!”

“wha-? hey! no fair!”

“sorry, can’t hear you from the finish line!”

their friendly competitions had resulted in red faces shining from sweat, and bright smiles. the day was exactly what they needed, and y/n had plans to show just how grateful she was to lando for planning such a date. they exchanged kisses, played with the other kids in the park, and tried to outdo one another. it made y/n fall more in love with lando.

the camera facing towards them, lando watched as y/n jumped on a trampoline square behind him, spreading her arms and legs, making a star every time she was in the air.

“you’re so sweaty,” lando commented as he looked at his girlfriend’s flushed face.

y/n smirked, “it's because of the jumping around for three hours. as if you could ever make me so sweaty, norris,”

his mouth fell open as he processed her retort. she laughed at his expression, and began jumping away. lando quickly grabbed her hand and said, “as if i could ever- come on, we’re going home,”

“what? why? we still have lunch left!”

“nope. i’m going to show you just how sweaty i can make you,”

y/n laughed but followed. she wasn’t going to pass on an opportunity like this. she’d never.

lando.jpg

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lando.jpg i CAN make her that sweaty

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¸.☆¸.♡.¸

hi! i tried to make this desi!reader, but i just didn't find a lot of places where i could incorporate that, so i tried my best to stick to a neutral, imagine-what-you-like character. i hope you enjoy this! i've also got a link for my taglist, prompt list, and all of that you can find here!

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #formula one #ln4 #f1 imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris smau #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln x reader

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ashasdiary · 3 days ago

Text

Pumpkin

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Synopsis: Husband!nanami (later father!Nanami) being super domestic during your pregnancy, birth, and arrival of your baby.

CW: a smidge 🤏🏻 of angst but mainly FLUFF, pet names, established relationship, pregnancy, birth, babies WC: 1.9k A/N: this is a sequel to Vitamins but can be read as a standalone if the smut in Vitamins is not your jam. Enjoy this fluffy goodness 🥹

Ever since those two tests had very loudly informed you of your pregnancy, Nanami had not let you lift a single finger to do anything. Not that he had even before your pregnancy — your husband’s love language was acts of service — but now? He was very hyperactive in taking care of you.

“Honey, did you note down the appointment time in the calendar?”

“Honey, did you take your folic acid?”

“Honey, you’ve been on your feet too much today. You need to rest.”

“Honey, do you want me to give you a massage?”

“Kento,” you sigh, “I’m fine, really. It’s still early stages.”

“And you have to be careful during the early stages,” he notes.

“I know. But you’re also treating me like I’m china and…it’s just…a bit too much,” you say. You didn’t want to tell him this, because you knew he meant well, but you also had to communicate your feelings to him. You were worried he’d be upset when you did, but he looks at you apologetically, seemingly taking it in his stride.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t mean to make you feel…suffocated. I was worried I was being too overbearing, but I wanted to make sure you knew that I want to do as much as I can for you. And the baby,” he explains in one breath. Your eyes soften and you step into his embrace, hugging him tightly, burying your face into his neck.

“I do. I’ve always known that. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, but I would also like to do things myself sometimes.”

“I understand. I’ll be more mindful, my love,” he rubs his hand up and down your back.

“Thank you, Ken. I love you,” you kiss his cheek and he turns his face to capture your lips with his in a chaste kiss.

Every week, you’d made it tradition to take a side profile picture of the bump along with the fruit that the baby was the size of. This was Nanami’s idea, of course, and he made it creative and fun. Seeing him be so excited for the arrival of your child made your heart swell with joy.

He’d very proudly started to create a scrapbook of all the happenings during your pregnancy which he was eager to show your child when they got older.

Interestingly, Nanami did not want to do a gender reveal when the ultrasound technician offered to write it down at one of the scans. And you couldn’t fault his logic when he later explained, “It’s silly. It’s a social construct. We’ll find out when they’re born, and regardless, even then it won’t matter. We’ll still love them the same.”

Every craving, every need, he provided. Including the need to jump his bones in the second trimester. Damn, did he keep up with you. You knew it was because he found the cute little swell of your belly so incredibly sexy — he’d voiced it on numerous occasions — knowing he’d done that, nothing made him more unhinged.

Ever the doting husband and expectant father, he’d started reading up more about babies and often tell you facts you’d have never known. “Did you know that your heart grows bigger during pregnancy?” He informs you while you’re laid back on the couch, on opposite ends, 5 months in.

“I…did not know that,” you blink, surprised.

“Yep. It’s to help the heart pump more blood to the baby. Babies can also cry in the womb.”

“Oh no,” you pout, “I don’t want baby to cry.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, hon, they’ve been quite gentle so far. You can sing to them, they’ll hear it by now. And talking to them in another language is also beneficial,” he notes and you let out a soft laugh at how he’s rattling off these fun facts.

“Your brain truly amazes me sometimes, Ken, it’s like a sponge,” you prop your arm up and rest your chin on your hand.

“So’s the baby’s right now. We should get a Duolingo subscription and get them started on another language already,” he jokes and you let out a hearty laugh, which earns you a little kick in protest from your baby.

“Well, your child just said no to that,” you giggle.

His mouth falls open and he scoots over and lies between your legs, coming face to face with your bump. “Listen here, you little squirt, you will learn another language whether you like it or not.”

“Oh, daddy’s setting rules,” you whisper.

“And in addition to that language, which you will be fluent in, you’ll also learn jujutsu,” Kento tells your bump definitively. You laugh at how he’s instructing the baby firmly one minute and then lovingly pressing kisses to your skin the next.

He relaxes against you, and you decide to tell him a fact you’d found out recently. “Did you know that eggs can pick and choose whether the sperm gets to fertilise it? For a while, I thought it was just a race of the best sperm to get to the egg. But the egg can reject it if it wants to. Isn’t that fascinating?”

He raises an eyebrow in slight surprise and amusement at this newfound knowledge. He wasn’t aware of that little detail either, but he finds it very intriguing. “That’s pretty impressive. I had no idea that they had such power over which sperm gets to fertilise them. Who knew eggs were such shrewd gatekeepers?”

“Right? But my egg was a terrible gatekeeper. Probably a combination of that and your sperm just being overachievers.”

He laughs heartily at your comment, the image of his overly ambitious sperm and your easy-going egg combining to form your miracle is quite the amusing picture.

“Well, I do have some pretty strong swimmers, I can’t deny that. And your egg must have had a weak moment, letting my little overachievers through. But I'm glad it did,” he smiles warmly at you, his hand gently rubbing your leg.

There were moments where you couldn’t wait to meet the little one, but you also found yourself getting emotional a few times that it wouldn’t just be you and him anymore. When he notices your glassy eyes one day while you’re eating breakfast, he frowns and takes your hand in his. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The dam suddenly bursts — darned pregnancy hormones — and you start to bawl, managing to say between breaths, “It’s— not— going to— be just— you and me any— anymore…”

He has to stop himself from laughing at your sudden realisation and he circles around the dining table, embracing you.

“And I know how stupid I sound right now, because I wanted this, and still do, but I’m— I’m just…scared,” you cry, inhaling shaky breaths. “What if I’m not a good mother? What if parenthood is the complete opposite of what I envision it to be?” You ramble.

He rubs your back gently and comforts you, kissing the crown of your head as you rest it on his chest. “I know, honey. You don’t sound stupid. It’s natural to feel nervous. Parenthood is a new venture for both of us but it won’t be vastly different to what we think it’ll be. And you’ll be a fantastic mother. I’ll be by your side every step of the way, you’ll never be alone. We’re doing this together. We’ll make mistakes together. Clean up messes together. Strive together. It’ll be alright.”

His words of reassurance bring you a sense of calm and you feel the warmth of comfort spread through you slowly, easing your anxieties.

He reassured you every time you felt any sense of worry or sadness, provided the love that you needed and more, and was a real anchor to harbouring your emotions.

Week 40 arrived before you knew it. With a bright and large orange pumpkin in hand, you took what you hoped would be the last picture for the scrapbook. You both subsequently started referring to the baby as “pumpkin” that week. Every day that week, he had tried to coax them out with sweet words.

“Are you gonna come out today, pumpkin? Today’s a good day to join us, I think. The weather’s nice out. You should come see it,” he whispered to your bump in the morning before you were awake.

When your baby decided that they were ready to come out, Nanami was there, holding your hand the entire time, not once letting go. You were quite afraid of this final hurdle but with Nanami by your side, you knew you’d be okay.

It was a long and tiring 14 hours, exhaustion was settled into your bones, but when you finally, finally give the final push and the baby is out, you cry. From the relief of birth being over, from the new chapter that had just opened, from having sight of the baby that you and Nanami had made.

Nanami kisses your head, eyes glassy as he whispers praises of how well you did, that it’s over and that he’s so proud of you.

The midwife places pumpkin onto your chest for some skin to skin, placing a blanket on top, the little thing curled up and looking disapproving of being pushed out of the coziness of your womb.

Nanami chuckles softly as he peers over and the baby’s rosy lips tremble before they take their first breath and start to cry quietly. You sniffle as you wipe your own tears and look at your husband and he kisses your forehead.

You hush the baby gently, speaking softly, “You’re here, pumpkin…here with us. I’ve got you.”

After they cut the umbilical cord, the afterbirth comes out, and the midwives take the baby to bathe, clothe, take measurements, and bundle them up.

“How do you feel?” Kento asks, holding your hand still as you stand up, ready to take a shower.

“I feel a little empty inside, it also hurts. Not looking forward to peeing,” you sigh and he caresses your back gently.

“You’ll get better with time, honey,” he guides you to the shower room.

There, he tends to all of your needs, helping you wash up, then dry off, and put your clothes on. You could almost cry from his attentiveness.

You hug him and squeeze gently, gazing up at him gratefully and lovingly. “What did I do to deserve you?” You whisper.

He smiles sweetly, caressing your cheek and giving you a chaste peck. “You can’t say that after you just pushed our baby out,” he chuckles. You laugh softly and you hold each other for a moment longer, before you both go back into the room.

There, the midwives wheel the bassinet over to you, where pumpkin is awake and looking for something to come into focus.

“She’s very healthy, Mr. and Mrs. Nanami.”

“She?” You repeat, feeling your heart flutter. A sweet little girl.

Nanami smiles to himself, he’s elated. He has a daughter. “Sweetheart, come on, look at her lips, they’re totally yours.”

You give him a small smile, eyes filling with happy tears as you both fawn over your daughter. It was a little early to tell, but you hope she has his eyes. She had a bunch of blonde hair, too.

“Hold her, Ken,” you whisper and he obliges, gently picking her up and angling his arms perfectly to fit his little angel against him.

He’s quiet for a minute, just soaking up the feeling of having his daughter in his arms, the warmth of her, her existence setting in.

“Now, about those language lessons that you refused to do…” he speaks to her in a gentle tone, and your lips curl into a bigger smile at his jokes, “I don’t want to hear another word from you, little miss. Any objections?”

He’s quiet for a beat and the baby just pouts as she looks up at her father, which you laugh softly at. “Good choice. Maybe start to brush up on some Malay, sweet pea, your mama and I will be taking you to Malaysia one day soon,” he promises to her you feel your heart flutter in your chest at the thought.

The three of you, your little family, in your shared happy place. Something out of a dream, but soon would be reality.

You couldn’t wait.

#let's pretend the divider is a pumpkin just bc #*cries* PAPAMIN!!!#listen i am pmsing and i am genuinely in tears at the thought of him being a dad because he would be so GENTLE #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fluff #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #kento nanami #jjk kento #kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #papamin

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lemoniiiiiii · 2 days ago

Text

nighttime reading

(dad!peter maximoff x fem!reader) in where your husband's on night duty and runs into a bit of trouble trying to prep a bottle...

content: fluff (idk that's really it), daughter's name is luna b/c uhm canon ig!, might ooc or like lack of character idk I'm not great a writing peter aha..

a/n: started this WIP a while ago but the evanverse discord gave me the inspo to finish it so this is for them LOL

3 AM. once again the baby monitor fires up, the shrieking wails of your newborn waking you. you begin to instinctively rise from your laying position with a groan. you get about halfway up before your husband peter wraps a toned arm around you, pulling you back in.

"nggh... babe..." you protest his affections with irritated whines, knowing you need to be tending to your daughter right now not cuddling (as much as you wanted to).

peter lets out a low hum and peppers your face with soft kisses. you try to fight the impending slumber but your eyes begin to flutter through his attempts to coax you back to sleep.

"i've got'er..." he mumbles into your hair, giving you one last squeeze before getting out of bed himself and trudging across the way to the nursery.

"alright, kiddo work with me tonight we've gotta let your mama get some rest..." peter turns the soft light lamp on, walking over to the crib he so awesomely built without reading the instructions (by far one of his greatest achievements... aside from creating his daughter of course).

he leans over to see the 2 month old's tiny and delicate body tense as she cries, hands gripped in small tight fists.

with a gentle touch, he lifts luna from the crib, cradling her securely in his arms. he rocks her softly, bouncing slightly on his feet.

for a moment, the cries soften, and peter breathes a quiet sigh of relief. but then she lets out another sharp wail, a hungry, insistent cry that lets him know she’s not going to be easily soothed tonight.

peter heads downstairs with her, still adjusting to this slower way of moving. normally, he’d zip around the house at inhuman speed, but with a newborn, that’s a no-go. for the past couple months, he’s been learning to slow down for her—taking the stairs, walking instead of zooming. he’d even forced himself to learn to drive. slowing down had sucked, but for his two favorite girls he’d do anything.

in the kitchen, he opens the fridge and sighs when he realizes the last bottle is gone. all that’s left is frozen breast milk, and luna’s cries tell him that waiting for it to defrost isn’t an option. no way is he waking you up either. it’ll have to be formula.

peter opens a cabinet and grabs the formula container, peering at the label and trying to remember the steps you’d shown him. he squints at the tiny font, racking his brain. “uh… powder or water first? shit, i can’t remember…you don’t happen to remember, do you?”

he chuckles and glances down at luna his expressioin shifting when he sees her little face red and frustrated. a pang of guilt hits peter. he should’ve paid more attention when you taught him. “sorry, baby girl. i know. don’t worry, i’ll figure it out.”

he squints at the label again, bringing it close to his face. the letters on the label were pretty much illegible to his eyes, no matter how close he brought the container to them. “stupid tiny words…” he mutters. “your old man’s getting old, luna…”

peter huffs, finally accepting the inevitable, and heads to the bathroom. reaching into the bottom drawer, he pulls out a small glasses case he’s been hiding from you. using his free hand he brings the glasses up and flips them open using his mouth to slip them on. he hates how he looks in them and hates how they feel on his face, but damn... he really needed them. he stares down at the canister, finally able to read the label and prepares the bottle carefully, determined to get it right for her. no more bsing the things he couldn't read.

as he finally settles into the couch with luna nestled in his arms, feeding her the bottle he’s made, he finds himself gazing at her small face. for the first time, he can clearly see every detail—the curve of her cheeks, the faint little dimples, the perfect mix of both of you in her delicate features.

“i’m holding the most beautiful girl in the world in my arms… did you know that?” he whispers softly. luna’s innocent, unfocused eyes meet his, and she keeps suckling, making him chuckle. “ahh, i’m sure you know. your parents aren’t too bad-looking either, huh?”

“looks like i’ve been demoted from my title,” you say with a sleepy smile as you step into the kitchen. “rightfully so… she’s pretty cute.”

“she is…” peter agrees, glancing up at you with a soft smile. “but babe, you should be sleeping”

“just needed some water,” you say, moving to the sink and filling a glass.

he nods, watching you as you sip, your gaze shifting to the open formula container and his glasses, still perched on his nose. “couldn’t read the label?”

"uh- well- yeah... how did you-"

“the glasses,” you both say at the same time, sharing a laugh.

“i actually like them on you,” you say with a smirk. “honestly, it’s… kind of hot.”

peter, well aware of his bedhead, the beginnings of stubble, and his deep set eyebags, laughs. “I think you need more sleep.”

“well, maybe,” you say with a yawn. “but hey before I head back up.. I just wanted to tell you... I’m proud of you. I know you feel lost sometimes with little luna and me, but you’re doing a great job, babe. you’re a good dad.”

hearing your words, peter feels the weight of his self doubt lighten. becoming a parent scared the shit out of him, especially since he didn't really have a father figure to go off on. but hearing this from you, he feels a rush of gratitude and relief.

when you finish your drink, he takes your glass, setting it aside as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “go get some rest...”

you press a soft kiss to his lips, squeezing him in a quick hug before leaning down to gently stroke luna’s head. then you head upstairs. peter watches you go, smiling to himself, then looks down at his daughter with a chuckle.

“hey, luna,” he whispers, stroking her cheek. “you okay with your old man looking like a grandpa?”

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @wcnderlnds @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx @oceanblvd111 @andiloveher @vi0l3tgard3ns @evanbabybear @melsimps

#evan peters #evan peters fandom #peter maximoff #quicksilver #dad!peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #evan peters imagine #evan peters fanfic #peter maximoff fanfiction

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ariiadnes · 1 day ago

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╭ ⿻ ･ TENDING TO THEIR INJURIES ( part iii. )

ଓ.° ・ cyno ･ alhaitham ･ tighnari. genshin impact. repost. ・・・ pt i. pt ii.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ cyno

the role cyno plays is a heavy one : judgement & justice hand in hand in an act of righteousness as he deems another to fate. how quick it is for one's wrongdoings to meld into something deeper, deserved, and decayed into a sin they will learn to shoulder for the rest of a lifetime. you hold back a sigh, brows furrowed only the slightest bit in suppressed concern as you discard sanguine drenched gauze. you almost forget the danger that lurks in the shadows, expression growing grim as the seconds pass. cyno notices, smiles ever so faintly as he calls your name in gentle tones and meets your gaze.

"i guess someone--" he pauses, dramatic, and perhaps the final straw in your relationship lies in the moment he pulls a genius invokation card from behind his ear, "decked me."

you stare at him, deadpan. he stares back, also deadpan. this is far too unsettling.

"oh yeah? got decked in your bleeding knee, huh?"

"oh. well, you see-- i actually scraped my knee--"

"falling for me?"

cyno pauses again, clears his throat so incredibly loudly you wonder if it hurt doing so. you roll your eyes, don't bother to even hide the way your lips curl in amusement as you pinch his cheeks. his words of protest die down when you kiss him on the nose and you almost think you will hear them again with the way he frowns once you pull away from him.

"i don't love you, dearest general."

"okay, well that actually hurts to hear."

you laugh, feel his arms wrap around your waist as he looks at you expectantly. you press a kiss to his temple, see the way his countenance lightens at your affection.

"kidding, kidding. i do. i'm glad you're okay."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ alhaitham

you almost wonder if alhaitham is human -- a silly thing to ponder, truthfully, but you do not think you've yet encountered someone who seeks logic in all things and seldom succumbs to feelings and instinct. & it's unfortunate, almost -- to feel anything remotely close to love for someone who does not know the heaviness of it.

there is a strange feeling that brews in your chest : a nervousness, a knowing anxiety, and so you clench your jaw in frustration, place your focus elsewhere as to seek haven in denial of such foolishness. you wrap the bandages around his hands, try to ignore the foreign and comforting tenderness that sends shivers down your spine every time your fingertips brush.

"you are worried."

his voice cuts through steel air, forces you to freeze in your movements. you swallow hard, look him in the eye. you wish you could understand. you wish you could read him, know what lies in a dormant heart. but you don't. you don't, and it doesn't mean anything, not really, but somehow, it hurts anyway and you think you hate that the most.

"i'm not." you tell him, ignore the way he raises a brow at the short response. "it's a few scratches on your hands, nothing major. i'm only doing this out of courtesy."

"that's not what i'm talking about." alhaitham studies you further, makes you feel too seen and understood without a single explanation. you think to resume wrapping the bandages once again, but he grabs your hands, prevents you from moving away. you still, hold your breath, feel the way his hold tightens if only by a slight amount as if testing the waters.

"enough tending to me." he leans forward, closes the distance that separates you. "tell me what's on your mind."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ tighnari

"so... did you know that plant was alive?"

you imagined this would happen one day, given the nature of the forest watcher. a peaceful day turned to chaos, a leisurely exploration turned to a rather stressful yet memorable lesson. tighnari winces as you rub the ointment into his skin, red and pink patches adorning his body. he throws you a strange look, almost finds himself distracted from the pain at your words.

"all plants are alive, technically."

you sigh.

"remember when you ate that mushroom and didn't sleep for three days?"

how was he supposed to know that plant was particularly carnivorous? there's a trial and error with these things-- a system of sorts. not that he has the most optimal methods of research and learning, but he gets things done at the very least, so who can complain?

( him, probably. he is truly suffering right now. who knew plants had such sharp teeth? )

"for research. someone has to learn these things." he stares at the ceiling, entirely absentminded, until a flicker of seriousness graces his expression. "this was also for research, too, by the way. in case you were wondering."

"i wasn't."

"you are now."

"i was wondering about something i already know the answer to?"

"yes. your quiz will be tomorrow morning, pass or fail. i expect only the best results."

you scoff in disbelief, but the grin on your face betrays your seemingly annoyed visage. a quiet fills the air as you continue to attend to the numerous rashes, touch gentle as not to irritate them further.

"thank you for your help." tighnari's voice is softer now; you would have completely overlooked it had it not been for the blush on his cheeks.

you nod, silent, offer a timid smile as you press your lips against his for only a moment.

"i lied. that was your quiz. you pass."

"stop ruining the moment, tighnari."

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #cyno x reader #alhaitham x reader #tighnari x reader #ଓ.° : fic #ଓ.° : genshin impact #ଓ.° : banner cr @ v6que

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that-one-malereader-enthusiast · 1 day ago

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𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 • 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞

╰┈➤ 𝐈 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐲

cw : MDNI - S2 Armand, journalist male reader, top male reader, switch Armand, sub Daniel, dirty thoughts, mentions of sexual interactions, nsfw, Louis is definitely third wheeling, sexual tension, fake rashid reveal, mind fucking, teasing, this is my old man yaoi, somnophila, Armand gets the old man pass, they eye fucked eachother so much, i needed a taste of these two sorry, when no one can do the work, you gotta do it yourself, power play, stalking, Armand is a creepy little cat, Daniels the confused German shepherd, my drabbles become so thought out why, consume at your own risk, not proof read.

You knew it.

You fucking knew it the whole damn time.

At first it was just a guess, just a joking remark made as you worked with Molloy with Louis interview. You didn't believe him when he spoke of vampires, but seeing truly is believing, and Rashid was the oddest guy you'd met. That sweet smile, those longing looks towards Louis, the way he almost seemed to be acting—

Oh but you found that out really fucking fast.

Spoiler alert, you can see the plot twist from a mile away.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Jesus Christ, it was about damn time! How obvious do you have to be before someone finally outed you as a vampire?"

Daniel turned to you in a somewhat shocked fashion, though he was mostly squinting towards you for some sort of half assed explanation you were going to give him, but Louis put his expression into words. "You...You knew?"

"Yeah, but to be honest, he wasn't exactly doing the best job at hiding it. I mean, even if he was trying to, it was a little too on the nose at the beginning. Also, not saying Rashid is a bad name, but you definitely don't look like a Rashid." You then happened to gesture to Armand who was now standing side by side with Louis. You knew you'd promised Molloy that you would tone it down, that you would stay tamer than normal for the sake of getting out of Dubai in one piece after everything was said and done, but now there were two vampires rather than the one. "Not to mention how obvious you are."

"Pray tell, how obvious was I?" Armand asked. So far he'd spectated and predicted you were just as childish as Daniel when he was younger. With eccentric thoughts and an active imagination. That you were simply in over your head.

Oh how wrong he was.

"Well, for starters...it never seemed like you were similar to the other servants? I don't think I dare even saw you wear a mask before, whether that be to simply hide faces or to prevent anything from spreading, I found that odd." You chimed. "Not only that but we've seen Louis drink from you, and yet someone as...lanky, someone who looked like a stick ready to break — no offense — but you walked away like it was nothing, while a Russian biscuit the size of a bulk barely stood for two seconds before falling out.."

Only then did you gesture to the other room compared to the one you were currently in. "Not to mention, when we caught you praying the other day, you prayed in the darkest side of the room. Even if you did walk past the light, it was briefly or almost unseeable. And God, from the way every time I turned to you and watched you practically eye-fucking Molloy, I wouldn't have been shocked to know that you'd met him before."

Armand's expression was unreadable, almost repressing his feelings. Especially after the last observation you'd made. He stood next to Louis who squinted in a questionable fashion while looking at you, and Daniel? He didn't expect you to suddenly come out like that, and so boldly, though that was simply your personality.

"Now, if you three don't mind, I think I'll go to bed early. After this whole fucking soap opera of a reveal, I have to probably prepare myself to take in whenever you came into Louis life and what the hell happened then." You dismissed yourself, not back towards Daniel as you made your way out. That stare Armand had given you that entire time was unnerving, but there was something behind it.

You then called out as you proceeded to make your way to your room. "And I hope that there's an actual Rashid! Or I will be very disappointed!"

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

God when was the last time you and Daniel had a good fuck.

Before the trip to Dubai, the two of you had different lives, and as much as you loved smothering the older man, you had a job as well. It was unfortunate that you two couldn't have your fun till after the trip was over, but at least Daniel noticed how irritable you'd started to get. After all, you'd been stressed before the trip and didn't expect things to take this long.

You groaned out as your hips slowly rocked into the others, his warm body against your own and lips kissing feverishly against his skin. You knew that he was trying his best to sleep, but you couldn't help yourself.

Not as if he minded, he's the one who agreed the two of you could atleast sleep like this.

"Fuck Danny, baby..." You rutted your hips up accidentally, causing him to groan out and nudge you as red took over his face, cheeks, even spreading to his ears.

"Calm down, I have to sleep for later so we can continue the interview.." He could feel your arms practically caging him, holding against the plushness against part of his stomach. Daniel could barely think with how tired he was, and you? You were full of energy at the moment, sleepy, but still energized.

"But you're so tight Daniel...so fucking...oh—" You slowly grinded yourself against him once again before finally giving in as he wrapped a hand back to run though your hair. "Needed this, bad. Felt like I was having withdrawals."

"From sex?"

"From you," you admitted. "And this tight ass..."

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The next afternoon, you and Daniel went to the small cafe to fill up before the interview, though he'd been chewing you out about your past behavior. How he knew you were always a stickler for believing in superstition, but to understand that these vampires were nothing to fuck around with.

You could have refuted that with the amount of evidence you had that those fanged people were hornier than a dog humping a pillow.

You joked about it, as if it was your second nature, but Molloy seemed more stressed out than normal.

"You're gonna get yourself killed in there, you know what they are, why are you pushing things so far?" He sounded annoyed at that point, watching as you rolled your eyes and tried to dismiss his emotions towards the situation.

"Jesus Molloy, you act like the world is gonna end."

"Maybe not, but you have no idea who these guys are. You don't understand how dangerous they can be. How dangerous they are." He urged on.

You laughed and continued eating the raw fish that was on your plate. "Sure," you drew out.

It was then that he stared at you. Molloy stared at you with that look, the look you knew all too well. He continued staring you down before you sighed and gave in. "Fine! Damn it, I'll be good! I'll tone it down! I'll...I'll play this little game they're trying to get at. But I'm only doing it because you asked."

"Look, I just want us to get out of this in one piece." He urged on, now poking at his food, appetite diminished from the idea alone. "I dragged you into this mess, if you want to leave, you can."

"Damn it Daniel, you know you didn't drag me into this, I wanted to come. Turns out the vampire bullshit was real after all, but you're dumb as a box of rocks if you think I'm just gonna leave you here. I'm going nowhere." You let out a chuff of a chuckle before nudging Molloy, giving him a reassuring smirk. "And I know that Daniel Molloy sure as shit won't let anyone outsmart him like this."

"Alright cocky brat, I hear you. Just be careful. Armand looked like he's two seconds away from ripping your head off last time."

"Oh, Armand would have already if he had the balls to do so. If anything, I think the real threat in the room is you know who..." Finishing the rest of your dish after popping the last piece in your mouth, you now gave Daniel the knowing look.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Fuck, Armand—no wonder Louis loves to fuck you in his free time." You panted, watching as the vampire squirmed below you. You held his waist with a bruising strength that would normally feel uncomfortable for any human. But you knew that the vampire was durable. Heating his moan and mewl as your hips slapped against his ass, back arching up into you like a needy cat in heat. You didn't let up either, slamming into his body with brute force behind every thrust.

It was only then that you heard the mix of Armand and Daniels voice, gray haired individual cursing out as he gripped tightly onto the pillow behind his head. His glasses were gone and his face was flushed red as your thrust urged Armand to thrust into him. The vampire turned his head, as if trying to steal a kiss from you, pouting even. But you ignored him, leaning over to press your lips again Daniel's as his eyes fluttered closed, lashes dotted with tears and a muffled cry leaving him as Armand rammed his hips, almost in a jealous fashion.

Your fingers then found themselves threaded in the vampire's hair, only to yank his head back while a cry escaped his drool soaked lips. "You listen to me and you listen to me good. You think..you're all hot shit for a vampire, but I really know what you really are — Armand," you hissed out against the shell of his ear, dipping your head down before biting directly against the side of his neck. Your canines dug down into his tender flesh — not enough force to pierce — but enough to bite down onto the muscle below, knowing the skin would blemish and bloom due to your brutish actions.

The feeling alone made him cry out, hips stuttering between both you and Daniel. It was only then that you heard Molloy let out a gutteral noise in retaliation.

"You're my bitch in heat, understand?"

As Louis continued his interview, retelling whatever he could recall while letting Daniel read Claudia's entries, you kept your mouth shut and kept your comments to a minimum — as promised. But your thoughts, they ran rampant as you keep eye contact with Armand, watching as his eyes pierced into your own soul while peering into your mind. You could see a shift in his face features, his shoulders tending up as your expression stayed unchanging like a statue.

"Sorry to cut you off, I'm gonna step to the bathroom if that's alright. Lunch doesn't feel like it's sitting well," you addressed those in the room as you moved your notebook out of your lap and onto the table. "You good being alone in here for a sec Danny boy?"

"I'll be fine — and don't call me that, Jesus..." He muttered, shaking his head and overall dismissing you as he saw the shit eating grin on your face.

"Just askin' is all. Last time I left, I came back to you slapping Louis. Still never got an explanation for that one..."

"I assure you, nothing will happen to Daniel while you're away," Louis assured, giving you a genuine look to try and persuade you.

"Whatever you say," you stated, not giving the other stoic vampire the time of day after. Not a glance back or a thought for him to breach. Instead you left and got into the bathroom before starting the sink and splashing water on your face.

Even as you tried your best to hide it or ignore it, you could feel you growing erection making into a tent against your jeans, especially at your own thoughts. You almost dazed out back there and didn't even notice, but you knew that you'd finally hit the mark with Armand. With the way he was staring you down, you wouldn't have been surprised if he confronted you about such things.

It wasn't until you looked up in the mirror that you saw those predatory eyes stalking you again. By the time you whipped around, you were almost slammed into the sink, grinning as Armand grabbed against your throat. There was no real strength behind it, just a placement.

"Pervert, snooping through my thoughts even though I'm pretty sure Louis said that doing such a thing was off limits."

"He did not say such a thing," he quickly addressed, sneering at the grin that stayed in your face. "Who are you to have such thoughts about myself."

"You didn't say much about it. But to mention you seemed like you were enjoying it yourself pretty boy..." Your hand felt against his own groin, your grin only widening at the erection he seemed to pull as well. Watching as he stiffened up again made your arousal flare and his eyes seemed to soften. It almost looked as if he was trying to stop a noise from coming out with how fast his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I know one thing, Armand. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want something from me." Peeling his hand from your throat, you grabbed his face and pulled his closer. He did nothing to retaliate, almost melting at the semi rough gesture. "If you wanna be of any help while we still have time...I think you could put that mouth to good use."

To have Armand on his hands and knees? It was as if Christmas came early. But God, he looked absolutely divine as he slid down between your legs. You could only hope that Louis wouldn't mind sharing his immortal partner, Armand.

The vampire Armand?

More like Armand, your personal cockslut.

You could only wonder how fast he could be before one of the others came to look for the both of you.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 13 hours ago

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DISEASE- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Peter x Fem! Reader (friends to lovers)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: You and your friend group head up to Peters infamious ski lodge weekend getaway, the same as every year. Except this year, theres tension in the air, and a masked man on the loose. Your actions have consequences....

(UNTIL DAWN INSPIRED) (but u dont need to play the game to read:) )

Warnings: SMUT, lowkey darkish peter, dumbification kink, mocking, size kink, fingering, teasing, creampie, swearing, foreplay? (peter gets off on y/n getting scared), mentions of booze and implications of torture

Notes: since the revamped verison of until dawn came out my obsession has came back full force, so i wrote a fic with marvel characters as if they were in until dawn! i wrote this in one sitting lol. its not lore accurate but..love josh washington.. so of course peter must be him....

"could play the doctor, i can cure your disease/ if you were a sinner, i could make you believe/ lay you down like one, two, three/ eyes roll back in ecstasy/ i can smell your sickness, i can cure ya/ cure your disease"- disease, lady gaga

You stared in dismay at the thin piece of paper that fluttered in the wind, barely clinging to the large iron gate by a thin piece of tape.

“Gate Broken. Climb over. -Steve”

Taking a breath, you gathered your wits about you, grumbling the whole way over to the side of the wall where the stone sides had started to crumble, giving you access to climb up and over. This was not the way you wanted to start your weekend getaway at Peters lodge, but it seemed you had no choice.

First your bus was late due to black ice, then your bag had dropped in the deep snow, the fabric dripping cold drips of water down your thin jacket. And now this.

Would anything go right this weekend?

You were nervous. You hadn’t seen the group in over a year, but once Peter had sent a text to the group, everyone had been quick to respond. You were excited to be back but also… anxious.

It had been a while since you had been here and what happened last time…

Your fingers stung as the stone dug into your palms, and you huffed chilled air as you tossed yourself over, feet tingling as you landed with an oomph. It wasn't far now to the ski lift. You’d be out of this cold, haunting forest soon enough, surrounded by your friends' warmth.

Especially Peter's warmth, a little voice in the back of your head chimed.

The longer you thought of him, the warmer your cheeks became, making your breaths turn to startled pants in the deep snow. You and Peter had been friends since the first year of college, which he then introduced you to the rest of the group.

Bucky, who had been Peter's best friend since childhood, Steve- the big flirt (not nearly as bad as Peter though), Natasha- who was Bucky's girlfriend, Wanda, her friend Matt, and Loki.

All of them had been welcoming to you, making you feel right at home as if you had been friends with them for years. But when things got out of hand last year at the lodge, when Peter's sister went missing… it was distant.

You had pushed that memory as far back as you could, so whenever you tried to conjure it to the surface it was murky. A prank had gone wrong, despite you begging to the group to end it- Peter passed out on the couch.

His sister had been so in love with Bucky and well…

You watched the lift inch towards you, the doors swinging open with a loud clang. You closed your eyes in prayer that this car wouldn't snap with you inside, the old thing barely inching faster than a snail's pace.

Surely if the Parkers were rich, they did maintenance checks regularly? You doubted it.

The glass inside was foggy, and you traced a heart on the window pane as you started to trudge up Blackwood Mountain. The scenery was beautiful, the sun starting to become covered by rolling clouds, the snow coating the trees below- but all you could think of was Peter.

You had always had a crush on him but recently it had turned dangerous. All you could think of was him. Ever since he had sent that text to the group, it was like a switch in your body had snapped. Like you were reminded- “oh shit, yes, yes I do like this man”.

And no amount of time or distance would change that.

Wanda and Natasha had always teased you, insisting Peter liked you back- but he flirts with everyone. You refused to believe it, not wanting to give your hopes up… in case they were playing a prank on you.

You couldn't help but worry about him though, with everything that had happened. You hoped he didn't resent anyone for what had happened that night.

You wished you could've stopped it, could've been there to wake him…

The car jutted to a stop and rocked back and forth, the door remaining shut. Oh fuck. You peered your head through the window in the door and saw Wanda with Matt, waiting at the stop. You banged on the door, snapping their attention over to you with a start.

“Could you open this? I'm uh.. Kinda stuck.”

Wanda laughed as she walked over to you, banging on the door before pressing the old button that took several seconds to work. Finally the doors swung open, leaving a loud creaking sound in their wake that echoed off the mountains.

“What, you didn't want to see us so you stayed in the car?” Matt called, a smirk on his lips as Wanda wrapped her arms around you, grasping you in a comforting embrace.

“Oooh I missed you girl! It's been so long since we've been back.” she smiled softly as Matt hugged you, taking the soaking backpack from your back. “I missed you guys too. Is anyone else here?”

“Everyone now I think. It's almost night-time, so I’m sure they're all waiting at the lodge for us.”

You bit your lip, nodding solemnly.

“Were you guys waiting long? Sorry, you didn't have to or anything, my bus was super late and the gate was broken…”

“What no! It's all good girl, Matt didn't mean anything by it. We’re just all so excited to see you.”

“Especially Peter.” Matt laughed, and you put your head in your hands.

“Maybe he’ll warm you up Y/N, since it's so cold out here.” Wanda winked, making you giggle. “Well, let's hope he can warm my freezing buns up.” you snorted, earning a pat on the back from Matt.

“Atta girl. Maybe we’ll all get lucky tonight.” he said, and you flickered your eyes over to catch Wanda blushing deeply.

Wait.. were they? You didn't push it. You'd find out as the night went on.

Who knew what had happened in that year, maybe things had changed. You didn't have much time to think about it before you arrived at the lodge's entrance, warm light glowing from inside.

“You get the easy treatment. I heard Bucky and Peter had to break in and unmelt the lock.” Matt grimaced, and you couldn't help but laugh as you imagined Bucky falling flat on his ass through the window.

“Jesus. You guys just needed me here, I could have warmed the lock up with my hotness.”

“Damn straight bitch!” Wanda laughed as she unlatched the door, letting the warmth wash over your frozen bones. An eruption of cheers sounded from the blazing fireplace, drinks opened on the ground.

“She made it!” Steve called, rushing over to give you a bear hug, practically picking you up and swinging you around like a rag doll.

“Oh fuck youre freezing. Did you walk all the way up here?! Is that why you're late?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, my bus was late. I’m so sorry guys.”

“We thought you forgot about us.” Peter smirked, boyish charm radiating off of him, a lint in his eyes as he walked over to you, towering over you.

“Hi. I'm so sorry Peter, I swear-"

" I'm kidding you. Cmere.”

You wrapped your arms around his torso, breathing in his scent of musk and amber, his skin like fire compared to yours. “Fuck Steve was right. Shit, come sit by the fire.” he urged, and as if on cue, you shivered.

He helped you peel your cold layers off your body, hanging up your coat to dry. Bucky gave you a taste of his warm whisky, immediately making you splutter and grimace at the strong, overpowering taste.

Jokes were tossed around, and you found yourself in an easy rhythm with the group, as if nothing had ever happened. You looked to Peter in reassurance, already finding his eyes staring you down when you met his. He studied you as you talked to Natasha, drinking you in.

You tried to keep your composure, but the butterflies churned in your chest.

“Did you want to take a warm bath?” Peter asked, everyone turning to look at you as you shivered again.

“No, no it's okay Peter. Thank you though.”

“Are you sure? You're still freezing.” Loki nudged you with his leg from where he stretched out on the couch. Everyone looked at you with concern, Peter most of all.

“Okay maybe that would be nice. But that wont take away from what we're doing? I don't wanna just leave you guys.” you frowned.

“What?! No! Matt and I were gonna go for a walk around anyways, and I'm pretty sure Bucky, Loki and Steve wanted to dig out some spirit board anyways. Go take a bath and warm up, okay?” Wanda smiled softly at you, urging you to go with Peter.

“I just have to turn on the hot water.” He said, making his way over to the basement door. “I can come with you.” you offered.

“You sure? It's cold and dark.” You shrugged, honestly just wanting more time with Peter. “It's my bath, and I hear I’m pretty good at holding a flashlight.”

He laughed, tossing you his light. “Flashlight duty it is then.”

You followed him through the dark passageway, old stairs creaking under your weight as the little spotlight guided you onwards. The door slammed behind you with a slam, making you jump.

“Sorry, that always slams like that. This place is old as dirt.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around yourself as you shivered, not only from the cold but how eerie it was.

“Man, it's creepy down here.” you noted as you finally reached the crypt, barely being able to see anything but dark shadows in the far distance. “What, you can't handle a little cobwebs?” he teased, shooting you a wink as he made his way over to the pipes.

You followed him, giving him a playful smack across his solid bicep, aiming the light where he navigated. It was quiet all but the drip of water on the concrete concrete floor, and your heavy breaths.

“Peter?”

“Hm?” You started fidgeting nervously.

“Are- are you doing okay? I mean, with everything? Today was a hard day, so I just…”

“I’m okay. I just… can't think about it for too long, ya know? But I wanted us all together to celebrate. To take our minds off of it.” he shrugged, switching on the hot water at last.

“I understand. And, thank you for inviting me Peter. I really appreciate it, and if you need anything at all… we’re all here for you.” you softly smiled, sensing his pain and vulnerability.

“I know. And between you and me, I wish I could have only invited you.” he winked, hand reaching up as if he wanted to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he caught himself.

There were the flirty comments again.

“You’re really sweet Y/N. You’ve been what I’ve needed this year, ya know? Just the thought of you is enough to cheer me up. I’m really happy you could make it.”

You felt your cheeks start to heat under his gaze. You knew he had been in therapy for some time now, and you hoped the sessions helped him. You always thought maybe you could fix him, not that he needed to be fixed. He wasn't broken, he was just…

A loud bang sounded from the corner of the room and you jumped, instinctive leaning into Peter. “What was that?” you croaked quietly, flashlight starting to shake.

“I have no fuckin idea.” he murmmed, stepping in front of you, as if he was to shield you. “Should we.. Should we check it out? Maybe it's an old pipe or something?”

“Old pipes don't make that noise.”

You gulped. Suddenly, something lunged for you and you screamed, clinging to Peter's bicep as you two started to bolt towards the stairs, and you nearly tripped up them as the shadow rushed at you.

Stumbling up the stairs you almost made it to the door before you could hear laughing.

“Hah! You just got Bunked! Get it, like punked? But I did it, so it's Bunked.” Bucky howled with laughter as he tugged the dark sheet off his body. Peter chuckled along with him, but your eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

“You- well you fucking dick!” you screamed, stomping down the rickety steps to give him a peace of your mind. Smacking his chest you growled.

“What the fuck were you doing?! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” you snarled, pawing at him with closed fists.

“Hey, hey I’m sorry okay! We always do pranks here. I had to, because of tradition.”

“Did you know about this?”

Peter rolled his eyes, moving closer to you. “Nope, but you're cute when you're scared. Don't act like you weren't clinging onto my bicep like a monkey just then.” Peter smirked coyly, winking.

“You're both dicks.” Peter mock gasped, turning to Bucky with eyes wide in bewilderment. “You hear that Buck? She thinks we’re dicks! Guess my chances of getting some are slim.” he snickered as you trotted up the stairs, giving them an eye roll before escaping back out into the main room.

----------------------------------------------------------

You weren't sure how long you stayed in the bath, but the water was cold. You woke with a start, eyes fluttering open as the chill sent little shocks down your body.

You must have fallen asleep in the tub, the night darker than ever.

A little candle flickered on the vanity, and you grabbed it as you wrapped yourself up in a towel, wet footsteps trotting across the hardwood floors. It was dead quiet in the lodge, not an echo of chatter from the main room. You knew people had probably gone exploring, or gone to sleep but this was eerily quiet.

Something felt off. Something was wrong.

“Guys? Hello?” you peered your head out and saw nothing but an empty hallway. With only the candle to lead you on your way, you slowly padded down the hall, poking your head into empty rooms.

“Was I really asleep that long?” you murmured to yourself as you finally found your room where Matt had dropped off your bag near the freshly made bed.

It was uncomfortably large the lodge, and you constantly felt a set of eyes following your frame. You set the candle down, shutting the door behind you as you went to rub your pjs.

If this was another prank they were playing… you would be pissed. Once was enough for the night. God knows you needed another heart attack.

Humming to yourself, you bent down to grab your lace panties from your bag, turning around only to scream.

A large man towered by the doorway, lingering in the darkness, body hidden in heavy overalls, gloves adorning his hands- a mask on his face.

You nearly dropped your towel, backing up and falling onto the bed. Scream dying in your throat as he got to you in two large strides, gloved hand covering your mouth as the other scooped you up, backside pressed against his large frame.

You whimpered into the leather, hot, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. “Please don't hurt me, please. Please..” you cried, muffled in his glove.

“You’re so pretty when you're scared, baby. You promise you won't scream if I remove my hand?”

You nodded frantically, willing to do anything this stranger told you to save yourself. You hiccuped on your sobs as he slowly removed his hand, instead allowing it to come up and stroke your hair gently as you cried in his arms.

“Shh, shh baby. Not a word okay?” the distorted voice asked and you nodded again, too scared to make a peep.

“You’re so, so pretty when you cry baby. You know that? You’re so hot when you’re scared. The way you held my bicep earlier? Just wanted to pick you up and pound your little body, fuck.”

Realisation dawned on you, eyes widening in shock.

“P-peter?” His arm let go and you stumbled onto the bed, scooting away from him as he took off the mask, revealing that glint of mischief in his eyes, that coy smirk on his lips as his tongue darted out to lick the lower one.

“What are you doing?” you asked softly. He tilted his head, studying you. “Pranking everyone else, like they did last year to us. Just thought I’d stop by to check in on you.” he smiled.

You gulped as the mask thudded to the ground. “Where is everyone else?”

“Oh they're all out. I was hoping some trauma bonding would make Wanda and Matt finally make that move, ya know? Maybe I’m doing them a favour.” he chuckled.

“But why.. Why were you dressed like that?” you asked, clutching your towel tighter to your breasts that poked out at the top as he slowly made his way closer to you.

“Just some harmless fun. Did it scare you?”

“Y-yeah.”

He pouted. “You're so pretty when you're scared. I'm sorry for making you cry sweetheart. You were just too good to resist.” he sighed, thumb brushing your tear stained cheek.

“I-its okay.” you stumbled over your words, flustered at his proximity, body growing hot at his touch and the hungry look in his eye as he stared down at you.

You squeezed your thighs together, trying to be subtle, but failing miserably. You felt your arousal leaking out of you down your thighs, and your breath was shaky.

You wanted him so bad. But what kind of sick fuck would you be for feeling this way? When he had scared you to death?

He looked you up and down, eyes lingering longer on your breasts, licking his lips hungrily.

He knew. He knew the effect he had on you.

“Now baby, tell me. Did you like that stunt I pulled just now?”

You were silent, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Did I make you flustered? Did that turn you on? Hm?” his low voice sent another pulse down your spine, and you clamped down on nothing. “Mhm.” you nodded.

His fingers gripped your chin, making you jolt with a start as he forced your eyes to meet his. “Do you like how helpless and weak you felt? Cause I did. I could do whatever I wanted to you baby, and no one would even know. It's just you and me.”

You whimpered, making him smirk. You felt yourself being backed up on the bed, Peter hovering over you as you lay flat under him.

You were his now. And fuck, if you didnt like it.

“P-peter-”

“You know how long I’ve wanted you baby? Fuck.”

“I-I wanted you too.” you confessed softly, looking up at him with doe eyes, already starting to feel your brain go fuzzy with his presence.

“Yeah? Even just then? You liked it, didn't you?”

“I.. I did like it.” you bashfully admitted, and he groaned.

“I knew you were a dirty girl. Aren't you? You want me to fuck you baby?” You nodded, hand slithering up to grasp his bicep, the way you knew he liked. He hissed, head dropping down to take a breath.

As if he was controlling himself, like an animal on a leash that threatened to snap. “So little under me. Such a cute lil thing, so breakable.” he sighed to himself as he pulled your hand away, hand lingering on your towel knot.

You met his eyes that pleaded, asking if he could go further. “M’ not breakable.” you murmured, taking his hand in yours to yank the towel loose, letting it come undone around your naked body.

He drank you in, having to reach down to adjust himself in his overalls. “We’ll see about that when I’m done with you.”

His fingers traced your smooth skin, a finger dragging down your abdomen, tapping your inner thighs, making you wiggle. “So responsive. You like when I touch you here?”

You nodded. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please touch me Peter. Please. Need you so bad it hurts, it hur-”

His fingers slid through your slick folds, rubbing your clit gently. “Shh shh that's it baby. You just sit still and I’ll take care of you, mkay? Gonna make you so dumb n helpless.” he cooed at you, your mouth parting in an o shape as his large finger slipped inside you, clenching around the digit.

“Gotta stretch you out. You’re so tight, fuck. Youre so hot, like a fuckin porn star.” Your back bowed off the bed as he worked your clit, the rough pad of his thumb taking over as he pumped two thick digits in you, curling just the way to make you moan.

“Peter, Peter f-fuck, feels so good-” you choked out, his palm splayed on your tummy to keep you from wiggling away.

“Yeah baby you gonna cum? Yeah?” he teased, his fingers slipping out at the last second, making you groan in protest, before he slammed home with his cock.

You gasped, screaming at the fullness, as he watched your face contort from pleasure to pain, back to pleasure again. Your mascara was smudged from your tears and he swore a hint of drool trickled from your lips, and fuck if it didnt turn him on even more.

“Is it too much for you honey? You gonna take it all?”

You couldn't even response, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fucked you, snapping his hips hard and fast, letting the animal off the leash. He couldn't control himself any longer. He had wanted this for too long, and the idea of the two of you being alone, with no one around for miles made him snap his hips harder.

“Yeah you like when I fuck you? Youre so fucking slutty baby, letting some masked man fuck you. But you like it, don't you? I always knew you were a freak.” he growled, making you mewl, clinging onto him.

“Scream baby. No one can hear you.” he chuckled as he abused your cunt, the sound of skin merging with your juices making a squelching sound that mixed with your moans.

“I c-can’t, too much-” you slurred, making him cluck his tongue.

“Cum baby. Cum for me.”

That was all you needed to hear, orgasm rippling through you hard and rough as he continued to fuck you through it.

“Such a good girl. So wet, fuck. Fuck I’m gonna cum, fuck fuck Y/N, you’re so fuckin hot-” he growled, pace faltering as he reached his orgasim, shooting ropes of his sticky seed inside you.

The world was blurry, the room spinning as he stilled inside you, breathing heavily himself as he cooed down at you. “Baby? You with me?”

“Mhgm.” was all you could mutter out, body shaking and twitching from the overstimulation. “I’m gonna go clean you up okay? You gotta let go for two seconds.”

His soft, protective demeanour came back within seconds, as he slowly peeled your grip from his biceps, crescent moon shapes adorning them.

“When we’re all clean I gotta go clean some stuff up with them okay? And then we’ll have the whole place to ourselves and we can rest, pretty girl.”

87 notes · View notes

hotdsworld · 3 days ago

Text

"Beneath the mask" Neteyam Sully

Neteyam Sully x F!Reader

a/n: I advise to read warnings before going straight to the fic! Beautiful dividers from @cafekitsune

Summary: you never know what's hidden beneath the mask.

Word count: 3,2k

Warnings: 18+!, mentions of a murder, mentions of body injuries (not Reader), aged up Neteyam, stalking, noncon, oral (F receiving), piv, no protection, breeding kink, chase, knife play, body betrayal

Dead dove do not eat

You knew someone was watching you, but you didn't expect it to turn out like it did. They say people wear masks every single day, but you didn't expect the Ghostface mask to hide something so familiar.

The feeling of being watched was with you all the time, like a shadow always present and hard to ignore. You tried to convince yourself that it's just paranoia, but deep down, you knew there was more to it. Ever since the Ghostface killer appeared in the news for the first time your anxiety got worse.

You found yourself looking over your shoulder more often, double checking your locks and windows, getting worried over the smallest of sounds. The possibility of Ghostface targeting you was low, but how low? You didn't want to risk it. After all, why not you? You were innocent, and psychos like this loved the innocents the most. Something to prey on, to defile, to break… and weren't you the perfect target? A student living on her own in a shitty neighborhood.

Every day, you could feel someone's eyes on you but whenever you looked over your shoulder there was nothing. You wanted to go on with your life normally, you didn't want to go crazy and have people judge you. Your friends were very supportive, but you didn't think they would understand how scared you are every single day. Your best friend understand you perfectly well, but he was gone for a family trip so you had no one to talk to. He was different… not quite a human, but he understood you like no human could. Maybe Neteyam has more humanity in himself than others.

You were sitting at your Spider’s house, watching a movie of his choosing. It wasn't the best one, but you didn't complain. After all, he was the one that mattered right? Your compatibility and connection… but his focus was on the movie. Spider was really sweet and charming so you decided to give him a chance. You wanted something true and pure to happen to you and with Spider it felt like it might be it. You crossed your legs, trying to get into the plot too. Spider placed his hand on your thigh, caressing it a little. A gesture you welcomed, it's been a while and you're touch starved. Not even a minute after your phone rang, you smiled shyly.

“Sorry, I forgot to turn it off,” you looked at the screen, your eyebrows raising a bit upon seeing ‘unknown’. You picked up, looking around, it was a habit now. “Hello?” Usually, you don't pick up from numbers you do not know… but you had a feeling and you need to pick up from this one.

“Good evening, y/n” the voice on the other end was smooth, almost polite, but there was an underlying menace that sent chills down your spine. You looked at Spider, but he was too engrossed in his movie to notice your discomfort. How did the caller know your name? It must be one of your friends pranking you…

“Who is this?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. After all, you are in a safe house with Spider not so far from the campus. You are going to be fine and no silly prank will change that. Nothing bad could happen here, right?

“You tell me,” a hint of a challenge in his voice. The caller was taunting you and somehow it was filling you up with anxiety.

“Well, I have no idea,” you sighed. It wasn't something funny to you. Prank calls are supposed to be funny but this is just unsettling.

“Do you like scary movies, y/n?” The question was casual, but it sent a chill down your spine. Why would he ask about something like this?

“Stop playing around, Lo’ak. I'm busy right now,” you snapped, your irritation mixing up with the fear.

“Busy? Watching? Or letting him touch you? You are better than that, y/n,” the worst taunted, dripping with disdain. But who did he despise? You? Or Spider? Your heart skipped a beat. Did Spider tell Lo'ak you were going to visit? Was the called really Lo’ak? What kind of a sick joke was that? “Not Lo’ak. Keep guessing.” You looked around the living room, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. Now you didn't feel as safe as you did before.

“Who the hell is this?” you demanded, raising your voice in panic. Spider looked at you with concern. But that only made the caller chuckle, he was mocking you.

“Let's just say. I'm so much closer than you realize, in every meaning of this sentence,” there was a sinister edge to his words that made your blood run cold. Without another word, you hung up, your hands trembling. You couldn't handle any more of this twisted prank. Spider paused the movie, he approached you with a worried expression.

“Are you okay? What was that anyway?” He rubbed your back, to comfort you a little. Spider suspected it was a stupid joke but seeing you so scared moved him a little.

“A prank call. It was just very weird,” you let Spider lead you back to the couch. You clung to him, calming down a little. His arm around your shoulders, giving you a sense of safety. You were feeling better, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched… as always. Spider held you close, his presence reassuring.

“It's just a prank, don't let it get to you,” he sighed. You nodded, trying to believe his words. On the other hand, the voice on the phone felt too real, too menacing… and the way he knew about Spider. Your phone kept calling, filling you with worry. “You want me to get it?” Spider offered. He had no problem with handling a stupid teenager or a creep.

“No, I'll do it,” you tried to sound braver than you felt. You answered the call again, feeling better with Spider close to you.

“Don't hang up on me again,” the caller hissed. His voice dripping with menace and for a second you thought, what if you are talking to the actual devil? There was ringing upstairs.

“Shit, my phone. I will be back,” Spider patted your shoulder before running upstairs. You sighed, realizing you are alone again.

“What do you want? I don't find this funny anymore,” you were scared of course… but you were angry. Who could ruin your date like this? Your mood and wellbeing? Who does that to another human being? The caller was silent, you weren't even sure if he's still there. “Hello?” No answer… you hung up, shaking your head in disbelief. “Do you need help finding your phone?” You call out to Spider. He always loses his phone so it wasn't a surprise it was taking him longer. Spider didn't respond so you walked upstairs. “Have you found it?” You scan every single room with no success until you reach his bedroom. Your phone fell out of your hand as you gasped in terror.

Your date was gut open like a fucking animal. Spider's body was lying down mutilated, his insides spilling out. You looked away feeling as if you were going to throw up. It was disgusting and terrifying. But not as terrifying as the realization that you are here alone, with the predator who most likely wanted to give you the same treatment. You realized just now it was the Ghostface… You ran out of the house, feeling terrible about leaving Spider's body here but you refused to just give up. You sprinted into the woods. In the house, he would catch you for sure, but here? Here, you had a chance to fight and it was all that mattered.

“Running won't save you, pretty girl.” His voice echoed through the trees, taunting you. You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes widening upon noticing the figure in black robes and a ghostface mask walking calmly after you. He was close… to close. You pushed yourself harder, even though you couldn't breathe, even though your heart hurt. “You are just making it even more fun for me. You can't hide from me, I know you too well. I am everywhere,” his voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. You have never been so scared, but you forced yourself to stay focused. You stumbled over a root, quickly gathering yourself and continuing the run. Every step was a struggle, your heart beating quickly as if it wanted to jump out of your chest… but you couldn't stop. Not now. “Is this the best you can do? I thought you were smarter than this,” he taunts. You ignored him, struggling to breathe. You could hear his steps, urgent yet patient. You zigzagged through the trees, hoping to lose him, but he was always there… right behind you. There was silence… you kept pushing forward until you dared to look back.

“Where are you?” You whispered, frantically looking around. He was gone. Ghostface lost you… You closed your eyes, trying to breathe normally again. Just then a hand clamped over your mouth, stifling your scream. Another hand pulled you closer by your waist from behind, against a solid chest. You kicked, trying to break free but it was futile. There was no escaping his grip.

“Shhhh, sshhh, shhh. Did you really think you could escape me, little bunny?” he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You thrashed harder, your heart pounding in your chest. “Don't worry. I will take care of such a pretty bunny like you,” he pinned you against the tree, getting rid of the pretty dress you were wearing. “All dressed up? What a shame he won't see this,” he cut through the fabric of your clothes with a sharp knife, causing you to tremble. You were vulnerable, defenseless, cornered like a prey… like a bunny.

“Get away! Get away!” Your screams stifled. You were no match for him, he was much stronger… yet you didn't wish to give up. Once Ghostface got you completely naked, he pushed you on the ground on your back. You hated him for what he did, was doing, and what he is going to do. Why then deep down there's a hint of excitement? You were disgusted. The huge palm over your mouth prevents you from screaming, no matter how hard you bite into it. Ghostface pushed your legs forward, revealing your pussy to him.

“And you are so innocent… I don't think innocent little bunnies get wet for killers.” As much as you did want to argue, his hand prevented you from doing so. You kicked and pushed with no success yet. Ghostface tilted your chin up, as he didn't want you to catch the glimpse of his skin as he raised the mask a little, just so his lips could connect with your pussy. He hummed, enjoying how wet you already were. It turned you on more than he expected. “So fucking tasty,” he moans into your pussy, enjoying it like one of the greatest meals he had ever gotten to try. You held back every single sound that wanted to escape your lips. You didn't want to enjoy it, you wanted to be disgusted and furious. You weren't supposed to enjoy it… you bit on his hand hard as he focused on sucking on your clit. You wanted to push his head away, but it was like he was made of stone. Nothing could move him. “Stop whining. I am a gentleman who prepares you, if I was an asshole I would have you suck me off, no? Be a good little bunny and enjoy,” he suckled, eating you out sloppily. You wanted to ignore the pleasure building up in your stomach… you really did, but it felt as if your body was betraying you… for him. Ghostface was eating your pussy like he waited for it his whole life. It was disturbing. You had no idea who it was, you wanted to run away and never go back… yet your body was reacting to him. “Come on, bunny. Cum for your new master. Show how happy you are to be owned by me,” he mumbled against your pussy, mixing the techniques to make you feel as good as he possibly can. He wasn't a monster… he will pleasure you a bit before completely destroying you. You held back and you wished you did that for longer, but you came undone under his experienced mouth. You took a deep breath, struggling again which only seemed to amuse Ghostface more. “Bunny already trying to run away? Not even going to please your master?” He easily manhandled you into a doggy position, pushing your head down to the ground as your ass remained up. You wanted to crawl away, anything to escape his grip but you were too weak. Ghostface got behind you easily, his cock rubbing against your wet folds. He put his knife against your neck, not eager to play any games now.

“No, no, no, no,” you could already tell it was huge, the thought made you both excited and terrified. How could you explain this? How come you were finding this exciting? Ghostface didn't let you wonder for too long, pushing himself inside you once his cock was coated in your wetness.

“Fuck, bunny. You are so tight. Such a perfect toy for me… Once I saw you with Spider I need my plan needs to happen faster.” You yelped, gripping the ground underneath you desperately. It felt as if he was ripping you apart. Your eyes filled up with tears as you bit your lip hard. Ghostface gave you some time to adjust, knowing that he's so much bigger than average men. His fingers caressing your clit gently, trying to get you even wetter so it goes smoothly. You were losing the strength to fight… Why fight? He was already doing as he wished, and your body didn't seem to complain much. Getting stretched out by that thick cock of his, your walls were giving in quite easily. As if your body belonged to him. Ghostface began to move in and out of you slowly, enjoying the way your hungry pussy clung to him. Gradually, he was increasing the pace of his thrusts, feeling how easier it was becoming to move in and out of you. His fingers rubbing against your clit in circles. As his other hand traced all over your back with the blade, sending chills down your spine. The previous pain was mixing up with pleasure, and you couldn't hold back your sounds of pleasure anymore. You will hate yourself for that later but now, you enjoyed what he was doing to you and how he was making you feel. “Such a tight little bunny. Squeezing my cock so much. It's like your pussy wants me to stay here forever, no? So wet too… you're just a deranged slut who deems herself innocent, but do you feel this, bunny? How wet you are getting for a masked killer who chased you through the woods?” Ghostface gets rough, pressing on your lower back, causing your head to be pressed to the ground. His cock deep inside of you, you weren't sure it's possible for someone to reach so deep inside of you… “Dumb little bunny, you think you could escape this?” He taunts, taking pleasure in degrading you in such a way. You were a conflicted mess, brain filled with nothing but thoughts of how good his dick felt inside of you. You were getting close to the edge again, Ghostface could feel your walls clenching around his cock. “Is that slutty bunny going to cum for me again? Such an obedient little whore… but I want to see you cum,” he flipped you over onn your back, putting his weight on you. You whimpered needily, feeling empty after he pulled out for a moment. You were desperate to cum on his cock. Your pride, morals, and rules didn't matter now. All that mattered was his cock inside of you making you cum. Ghostface pushed back in, groaning as your pussy sucked him back in eagerly. You were truly perfect for him. His knife tracing around your collarbones, moving down to your breasts. Somehow, it was arousing. The cold blade against your warm skin, the danger.

“Please,” you whimpered, looking up at him. You weren't sure if you were asking for him to keep going or to stop. You just needed something. Ghostface decided for you, thrusting in and out of you at a punishing pace, his fingers playing with your needy clit. He intended to push you towards the edge… and then off of it. The blade against your neck, pressed a little harder than before. Ghostface didn't miss how it made you clench.

“Master's perfect bunny. That's right, don't think of anything. Dumb little bunnies like you don't need to think for themselves. Let your master think for you, bunny. You just need to enjoy what I'm giving you.” Normally, you would resist, you would say something back, but you were too damn close to orgasm to think. Your eyes rolling back with every deep thrust. His tip seems to hit your g-spot every single time. “Cum for your master. And when you do master's going to breed you, pump you full of my potent seed. I'm going to claim you, bunny. You are going to be mine and mine only,” he slowed down but the intensity of his moves increased. "Moan for your master, bunny"

“Such a pretty obedient slut for me. You are making your master proud, bunny. For that I'm going to cum inside. I will give you so many little bunnies,” he groans. His cock was twitching inside of you, signaling that he's close and of course, he had no intention of pulling out. He wanted to claim you as completely and utterly his. He wanted you to bear the evidence of what happened tonight in this forest. He wanted you to remember. Even though you were weak you forced yourself forward and you pulled the mask off, gasping as it revealed the handsome blue face you knew perfectly. Your fucking best friend. The epitome of innocence was murdering people with a knife. He was the one who stalked you the whole time, making you feel like you are paranoid. “Surprised? Silly bunny,” he took off the voice changing device. Neteyam pumped you full of his cum, keeping eye contact with you. He didn't seem ashamed or regretful, he seemed pretty proud of what he did. His beautiful eyes flashing with possessiveness and obsession. Neteyam was down bad for you. You didn't know if you should feel betrayed, depressed, or angry. That man was the epitome of innocence, how come he was behind every cruel thing that happened today? And not only… Ever since he met you, he knew you were going to be his. Neteyam isn't human, you couldn't possibly expect him to act like one. Every single day he made sure you were safe by observing you. You are such an adorable bunny, he needed to make sure no one's going to steal you. Neteyam

“Oh my gosh, oh fuck,” your body shook as the wave of pleasure washed over you again, moaning loudly. Ghostface kept going, fucking you through your high. You knew it shouldn't be happening. You should be devastated but somehow you enjoyed everything.

“It's going to be okay, little bunny. You are safe with me… forever” he planted a tender kiss on your forehead before offering you the black robes. You belonged to him now, his little bunny.

#neteyam x fem!reader #neteyam smut #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully #neteyam atwow #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam #18+ mdni #mdni blog #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 day ago

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Chapter 14: Don't Be A Bundt Cake

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy, Miscommunication Trope

Word Count: 13.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Talks of Death, DENIAL, Idiots in Love, Pining by the Reader (and SB, but he won't admit it) Depressing Thoughts, Mentions of sexual assault/rape (not detailed at all, really just in passing) Talks about weed, Sexist comments, Ben makes derogatory comments, Threatening Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: I am so sorry this one took me a bit longer. The writers block was fighting me the whole way, but we are very closely nearing the end of this series and the moment the reader and Ben stop being so stinkin' stubborn.

Reader POV

You lean your forehead against the cool window, watching the world flash by in a flurry of color. The wooded forests had vanished hours ago and all that was left were the yellowed sprawling fields of corn and grain and family farms that were laid sporadically along the interstate. Each one a little world that caught the flecks of golden sunlight as the sun began to peak above the horizon.

The bus rolled smooth and steady over the weathered pavement towards it's destination and was filled with an odd assortment of people young and old. There was man with a brightly colored parrot that had been singing "It's A Small World After All" since you left NYC, a woman with a little boy playing with an iPad and who refused to turn down the volume no matter how many times his mother asked him to, a group of teenagers a few seats up that continued to pass around a flask, and due to how far back you were sitting on the bus an uncomfortable smell emanated from the bathroom each time the door was opened.

But you didn't notice any of it.

The only thing on your mind were the events that happened almost twenty hours ago. They continued to circle your mind, playing over and over again like a perverted cassette tape making you sink further into the worn cloth covered seat at the back of the bus. The images were haunting, some new and some old, but all the more still horrible to re-live.

The song "Nights In White Satin" floating into the backseat of your family's car, the flash of unnatural light you knew was never lightning, the caskets at your parent's funeral covered in flowers that were much to pretty to lay on something so morbid, Elijah's body succumbing to the poppies that ripped him apart, the proud sneer on your brother's face when he admitted to killing your parents, Darren's broken and bloodied body strewn in pieces over the street with the creature standing over him with a dripping red maw, the ruined building that housed "Please Don't Die" reduced to nothing more than rubble, and the look on Ben's face when you turned your back on him and fled the scene.

For some reason that particular image seemed to cling on to you and refused to fade. You'd never seen him look that way, almost… helpless and a little fearful. In all the time you'd known him, Ben had never looked at you that way. Sure you'd seen him proud, angry, cocky, lustful, mischievous, but never fearful. And you were sure that it wasn't an emotion that he was used to feeling, but that begged the question… why?

Why was he looking at me like that? Why wouldn't he let me go? And what was he afraid of?

The creature curled in your lap snorts something in it's sleep, turning it’s head further into the cradle of your elbow to shut out the brilliant early morning sunlight. It was now the size of a toaster and had warranted several odd looks whenever you got off to change buses, but you didn't care.

You weren't sure about anything anymore. Everything your brother confessed to you made you feel like you were living a lie and the revelation of exactly what your powers could do- take life from plants to heal yourself, create whatever the hell it was on your lap, and speak to plants… it scared you.

You thought for so long that you knew everything about your powers, that you were in control, but now you weren't sure.

You felt different, as if something had unlocked deep down that you couldn't shut up again.

You'd felt different after you killed Elijah, but this was more alive, weaving and twisting in the pit of your stomach. You felt more connected to the earth, to the world outside the bus even though you were divided by glass and metal. You could feel the energy that thrummed through the body of the creature on your lap, bending to your will, the life force of the plants it was formed from molding with you, becoming a part of you.

You felt so different than the person you had been before Darren entered the shop, so uncertain, and there was only one place you wanted to be when you felt like this… home. You couldn't wait to run up the worn front steps of your grandmother's house and into her arms. She always knew what to say in times like this.

And you desperately needed the comfort of her embrace.

The phone in your pocket buzzes again and you flip the screen to see the ridiculous selfie Annie and you had taken on Halloween last year. The one that you'd both spent dressed up as the two brothers from your favorite paranormal tv show. It wasn't the first time she'd called. Annie had called and texted you more times than you could count over the past twenty hours but you didn't answer her. You didn’t want to.

It was the first time that you didn't want to talk to her, but talking to her meant that you'd have to re-live all of it again and you were clawing at the last shred of sanity you had left to keep it together.

The overwhelming waves of emotion kept pummeling you, dragging you deeper beneath the white surf. Each one brought the memories of what happened surging over you and were followed by everything that Darren said to you. Years of taking care of Darren and doing whatever he wished were tearing at your soul, years of giving up little things in your life to make him happy, and years of taking care of a man who you thought cared about you, but hated you enough to kill your parents and try to kill you too.

It made your skin crawl. Each time your brother told you that he loved you was an even bigger lie and now that you knew the truth and saw him for what he was, it felt like you were drowning. The darkness that ebbed just on the edge was begging you to leap into the abyss, but you were resisting the best you could.

The tears had stopped falling miles ago, but you couldn't stop the memories or the emotion that formed a cold ball in the pit of your stomach.

A sigh works it's way up and you pull your legs on the seat underneath you, jostling the creature on your lap that raises it's head for a moment to blink it's black eyes at you sleepily.

It was surprisingly docile right now, especially considering that twenty hours ago it had ripped your brother to shreds. In fact it seemed to understand how upset you were and had spent the better part of the last twenty hours rubbing it's head against your arm as if trying to bring you some comfort. It was settled on your lap, the weight of it a comfort, almost like a weighted plushy that gave you something to focus on.

"It's alright buddy." You whisper, scratching him under his chin. "We're almost home."

The phone in your jacket pocket buzzes again, but when you pull it out to turn it off, you catch a glimpse of the screen, and you hesitate. Because this time it's not Annie who's calling, it’s Ben.

The picture that flashes on the screen under the contact name "Gramps" is the picture of Mr. Fredrickson from Up. It always made you smile whenever he called you and you saw the picture because Ben did often remind you of him. He was certainly just as grumpy as Mr. Fredrickson and just as out of touch, but you thought it was cute.

Your thumb hovers over the answer button and you think about talking to him.

But what would I say?

You weren't sure what to say to him, or why you wanted to speak to him so badly, why you wanted him to be sitting here on the bus with you as you went home, and why you wanted him to hold you against his chest while you allowed yourself to break, but you did. You wanted to feel his awkward shoulder pat and his awkward version of hand holding and you wanted to hear him try to tell you to "buck up" or whatever he thought that a comforting word should be.

He's really not the best at that.

You smile to yourself at the memory of how he tried to comfort you back at the hospital, but the longer you sit there and look down at the picture on the screen the worse you feel.

Maybe that scared you more than your newfound powers, how much you were realizing that you needed him, how much you depended on him when things got too much for you to bear. The memory of him appearing as soon as you needed him back at the shop, another of him grabbing Darren and throwing him into the street as soon as Darren insulted you comes in a flash, and finally followed by the memory of Ben carrying you out of Elijah's office while you curled into his chest. You couldn't remember too much from that moment, in fact you'd thought that Ben had kissed you on top of your head, but you ascribed that to the haze of pain you'd been in from your broken arm.

What you did remember was how wonderfully warm he was after you'd been trapped in that damn freezer and how nice it felt to be in his arms. Another memory of Ben sleeping on the couch at the hospital bubbles up and you feel something in your chest begin to crack open. And you try your best to tell yourself the same thing that you always do when you feel like Ben might care more about you that he was letting on.

Ben doesn't want that. He's made it perfectly clear. He doesn't want a relationship. He's only wants one night, that's why he goes out with all those women-

You hesitate, thumb still hovering over the answer button as you do, the memory of the week you'd spent at the apartment with him flickering in the back of your mind. The week where he refused to leave you alone in the apartment, where he refused to do any jobs for Butcher, where he took care of you the best way he could, when he sat with you on the couch and made you laugh with his ridiculous movies, and the week where he hadn't had one date.

Your finger itched to answer the phone, but you couldn't, because you didn't want to feel this way about Ben, not when he'd told you countless times that you kept romanticizing him, not when he told you that he didn't want a relationship, and not when you could feel yourself beginning to fall for someone you thought was the wrong man.

For just a moment you tried to pretend that it was different, that he was different, but you didn't want to. It only made it hurt more.

The phone stops ringing, but the pit in your stomach still gapes open at you and for the first time in twenty hours you feel tears begin to fall. You didn't know why you were crying about this, why the thought of not picking up Ben's phone call seemed to hurt more than everything that had happened, but something made it hurt.

The bus driver announces over the overhead that you're reaching your final destination as he takes the exit for your hometown. The familiar buildings that line the streets are sheathed in a honeyed glow from the sun, the long shadow of the bus darkening them momentarily as it rumbles down the small streets to the bus station.

When it rumbles to a stop at the bus station you wait for everyone else to get off, trying to summon the strength to stand, and swipe the back of your hand across your face to rid yourself of the remaining tears.

The bus station was about a thirty minute walk from your grandmother's house, and you still hadn't called her. You didn't know what to say, didn't know how to tell her that Darren was dead and that he was the reason why your parents were dead.

The creature crawls up your body to drape it's warm body over the back of your neck as you stand. It wasn't bothering to hide, besides the people in your hometown already thought that you were odd because you were a supe and you'd always welcomed it. You give him a scratch on top of his head and his warm tongue flicks on the bottom of your earlobe as if thanking you before it curls further into the side of your neck, seeking warmth.

The first few steps on solid ground are shaky, but you find the strength while taking in a deep cleansing breath of the outside world, letting the gentle warmth of the sun and the tickle of the autumn breeze pull at your coat. You hadn't stopped at your apartment before coming here, instead you had stumbled your way to the bus station covered in dust, flecked in blood, and demanded the first ticket back to Illinois. It was lucky that the next bus was leaving immediately, because you didn’t want to spend another second in NYC, not when all you wanted was to be home.

Plus you were worried that someone had recorded what exactly happened outside the plant shop and you didn't want to get arrested.

It was self defense anyway. Maybe Jake would represent me in court.

The thought of Jake makes you twinge. You hadn't checked to see if he was alright before you ran from the scene. Not to mention you'd destroyed the shop he'd put all his life savings into after he stopped being a lawyer.

Oh fuck, what if he sues me? He can't exactly sue Darren…

You hear someone call your name and you open your eyes.

Your grandmother is standing in front of the same baby blue pickup truck that she'd had longer than you've been alive, wearing a long multicolored skirt and a pressed white blouse tucked elegantly into it. Her silver hair is loose and long, curling over her shoulders in gentle waves. She looks the same way she looked one week ago when she left, and you've never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

You're running before you can stop yourself, crumbling into her warm embrace, with more tears streaking down your face, but she doesn't mind.

"Shh. It's alright honey." She whispers, rubbing her hand over your back, her embrace steady and surprisingly strong. "Let's go home."

Her home is the same as it's always been. A two story Victorian house painted in a happy yellow shade, with a white wrap around porch and two white rocking chairs sitting empty on the front porch. You'd spent more nights than you could count rocking silently beside her with a crochet project in your lap listening to the rain fall and soak the world outside, while the plants sang praises with every gentle bend beneath the heavy droplets.

You could barely remember the home you spent in your early years with your parents, not when you'd spent most of your childhood spending the night here and after your parents died living here permanently. There was still a large oak tree were a wooden swing swung in the slight breeze on the left side of the yard, a gardenia bush that stretched as high as the second story on the right side of the house and brushed it's soft leaves against the sunshine colored outer walls, a garden filled with both flowering plants and herbs that perked up on both sides of the front yard as you walked up the path, and a cobblestone path that Annie and you had spent hours of your shared childhood covering in chalk art.

Neither of you were good, but when the rain would fall and smudge the clean lines, you'd jump in the puddles that pooled along the walkway singing the lyrics to ABBA's "Cassandra" not quite understanding what it meant.

Standing here outside your house made you miss Annie and feel worse about not calling or texting her back, but you didn't feel like talking about what happened and you were sure that Butcher filled her in. The only thing that you wanted was to collapse in your bedroom upstairs and curl under the comforters.

Despite everything the house was a welcome sight, but at the same time it was different. You could feel the plants calling out to you, asking for you, bending towards you just to touch your shoes as you walked by. You'd never felt so connected with them before, not even when you were in your apartment or working at the shop. It was overwhelming.

And although a part of you was frightened by it, another part of you rejoiced in it. You didn't feel alone, didn't feel weak, and you knew that you never would ever again.

The creature nuzzled into the side of your neck with a sigh, soaking up the sun's healing rays as you walked up the front steps with your grandmother following behind you silently. She hadn't spoken since she picked you up at the bus station and you hadn't supplied anything in the ten minute car ride back to her house.

You didn't know where to start and you were still trying to process everything yourself.

The inside of her house was just as cozy and warm as it was the day you moved out. There were photos of your parents and you covering the walls (Darren's had been placed in the closet long ago), half-finished knitting projects sorted in different baskets on both the dining room table and the living room coffee table, spools of yarn were strewn over the couch sorted by color, and the fresh smell of gardenia wafted through the open windows on the breeze.

It was home. This was what you'd been missing the moment everything began to crash over you, but as you stood there in the familiar living room it felt like something was missing. Something tugged at the back of your mind, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

There was something or rather someone that should be here, but you didn't know what or who. And your mind supplied Annie, but you weren't sure that's who you meant.

"Let's have some tea." Your grandmother says from behind you and you feel her soft hands come down on your shoulders to steer you through the familiar creative chaos and into the large kitchen at the back of the house.

The kitchen isn't spared from the madness, it rarely was. There are boxes upon boxes of cookies in different stages of being packaged all over the counter, dirty bowls and a measuring cup stacked in the sink, and a large opened bag of chocolate chips spilling over the flour covered kitchen island.

It wasn't unusual to find the kitchen or the house in a state of chaos, your grandmother always said that a house should look lived in and that the mess was part of the fun of any major project as long as you were responsible enough to clean it up.

"Bake sale?" You ask as you sit down in the breakfast nook, uttering the first words that you'd said to another human being in twenty hours.

The next breath that you inhale was supposed to be cleansing, but you can still feel a weight pressing down on your chest, the same one that settled in the moment everything happened with Darren.

You contemplate again how you're going to tell her that Darren is dead and was the reason why your parents died.

Damn it Darren.

"Mhmm." She hums, filling the well used red kettle. "Annie's mother practically cornered me in the supermarket yesterday and begged me to make cookies. I love Annie, but her mother needs someone to pull that stick out of her ass. It's been up there for so long that I'm sure it's rotten."

The creature crawls down from your shoulders and down your arm to sniff at one of the chocolate chip cookies nearest you. It hadn't eaten since…

Darren.

You wince slightly at the thought and hope that you hadn't created something that needed and craved human flesh. The last thing you wanted to unleash on the world was Audry two especially in the wake of Homelander.

Truthfully you were waiting for the guilt at killing your brother to come, but it never had and you wondered if it ever would.

Probably not. He deserved that, he killed our parents, he tried to kill me, he tried to kill Ben.

The thought of Ben again makes a lump form in the back of your throat. You didn't know what was happening to you only that you felt guilty for leaving him like that, for yelling at him to let you go, and just vanishing on him when he probably thought that you were going back to the apartment.

He doesn't know where I am. Maybe that's why he tried to call, because he got back to the apartment and couldn't find me there and he was worried. You press your lips together. Yeah. Worried. Right.

"Honey?" Your grandmother says in a soothing voice

You look up from the box of chocolate chip cookies that you didn't remember picking up. Even the creature is looking at you with an expression that you can only explain as worry.

"Yeah?" Your voice shakes slightly.

She's leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted slightly to the side, her beautiful grayed hair pulled up in an elegant bun, but in her eyes you can see genuine concern. "Fuck." She sighs after a minute.

You blink in surprise. It was the first time that you'd ever heard her say that word in your entire life.

"I shouldn't have left." She breathes. "I told Ben to look out for you. I told him, that little bastard was bound to show up again and what did he do? He left you at that plant shop alone with no protection!"

You'd only seen her really angry a handful of times in your lifetime. Like you, your grandmother often had a gentle disposition and didn't get angry unless the situation called for it.

I mean, Darren admitted to killing our parents and then got fucking ripped apart. But how does she know about any of that? I haven't told her…

"How did you know that he left me there? Did Ben call you?" You ask putting down the box of cookies.

An odd expression crosses her face, as if she's contemplating something. "No." She hesitates again. "I saw it."

"No." Your grandmother hesitates. "I saw it."

"You saw it?" You repeat, confused.

What's going on?

"Too late of course, but I'm a little rusty. I was able to warn Ben that Darren was coming back. That's how he got there so quickly or rather-" She shrugs sheepishly. "He got there in time to make sure that Darren didn't get you to forgive him. Which you shouldn't have at all, but I know he's always had a talent for manipulating you."

"What?"

Is she saying what I think she's saying?

Instead of explaining further your grandmother walks out of the kitchen, leaving the kettle behind on the stove and you in a state of utter confusion.

Is she saying that she can see the future? Because that would mean that she's a supe and there's only one supe in history that I know of that can do that. A supe that no one has seen in over forty years.

You can hear her open the door to the closet under the stairs and the sound of her sifting through all the junk that the two of you had shoved in there over the years instead of finding the right place to put it.

When she comes back into the kitchen, she's holding a giant cardboard file box that you'd never paid attention to each time you opened the closet to find something. Your eyes shift from the box to her still not comprehending exactly what she was saying.

"I probably should have told you this a while ago, but…" She trails off and nods her head at the box before turning back to the kettle on the stove that has begun to scream. "I kept putting it off."

The box is old, worn at the edges, and theres a musty black fabric beneath a collection of yellowed photographs. You pull out the one on top to examine it.

Ben is standing there in his full Soldier Boy regalia outside of Vought tower and the woman standing next to him is Soothsayer. The outfit she wore was familiar, a black-skin tight suit with a blind fold tied over her eyes.

Soothsayer was a supe who could see the future and who was apart of Payback, a supe that had vanished a year before the mission in Nicaragua and no one knew where she went. There were rumors that she'd died and that she'd been a Russian spy, but you'd never believed them. You'd heard Butcher talk about how he tried to find her when he was trying to figure out what happened to Soldier Boy, but he never had. Said that the trail went cold.

But now you knew where she went, because she was standing directly in front of you.

She's Soothsayer? Holy fuck that's why Ben kept accusing her of cheating in the poker game because he knew that she could see the future.

"You were Soothsayer?" You gasp. "But why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me?"

She continues to measure the tea leaves. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Grandpa didn't know? But he was alive when you were a supe?"

Your grandfather had never spoken about a history with supes that you remember.

"No." She turns to look at you, a hurt expression crossing over her face for a minute. "Well, I know that I said I was going to have tea, but if we're going to talk about this I'm going to need something a little bit stronger."

Your grandmother opens a cabinet under the stove an pulls out an enormous bottle of scotch. Truth be told you'd never seen her drink more than just a glass of wine, to see her like this was about as shocking as seeing a polar bear sunning itself on a Florida beach.

"Do you still want the blueberry tea or do you need something a little stronger?" She looks back over her shoulder at you as she pulls down a glass for herself.

"I think I need something stronger." You answer honestly.

Learning about everything Darren had done was one thing, but finding out that your grandmother used to be a famous supe and that she never told you about it was another thing. It was like looking at another person. You'd always loved your grandmother's gentle way, her care for her community and her family soft, but now you weren't sure you really knew who she was.

She sits down across from you and hands you a glass of the amber colored liquid. There's a heavy silence that hangs between the two of you as she tries to find a way to start. The photo of her and Ben is laying on top of what you realize is her uniform inside the box and she smiles down at the photo, just a little twitch at the corner of her lips.

"I met Ben when I was twenty three years old." She begins taking a sip from the glass. "Legend 'discovered' me. I had the injection of Compound V maybe two years before that, not when I was born, but I hadn't gotten popular. Other powers were much more flashy and by then there were so many heroes coming out of the woodwork that someone with the ability to see the future didn't seem as marketable."

There's something reflected in her blue eyes, the same eyes your father had, that you can't place. "I had just moved to New York, I had no money, and the way I was getting it was by pretending to be a fortune teller and betting on some sports events on the side. It wasn't hard to prove that I could see the future, the past was more difficult, but Legend somehow stumbled into my shop and figured out that I was a supe. And he didn't think I was too bad looking so he helped me get big."

"You pretended to be a fortune teller?"

She snorts into her glass. "Mhmm. People really will believe anything if they're desperate enough and back then there was so much turmoil going on with Russia that people were scared and wanted to feel comforted. My job provided some of that."

"But why did you walk away from it if you were such a big hero." You ask. "Everyone knew your name, you were-"

Your grandmother raises an eyebrow at you and you fall silent so she can continue. "When I got onto Payback that's when everything exploded for me, the films, the commercials, the ridiculous ads." She sighs. "That's also when I met Ben."

You take a sip from the glass in front of you, sputtering slightly. It was stronger than you were expecting. "And you two were-"

Please don't say dating, please don't say dating, please don't say…

"Friends. Just friends." Diana sits back against the back of the breakfast nook, sinking into the navy blue pillows. "But he is almost as charming now as he was then."

You cringe at the thought of Ben coming on to a younger version of your grandmother.

She taps her glass with her index finger deep in thought. "But I think that I was the only person that Ben actually talked to, the only person that he was comfortable being around."

"What do you mean?" You ask confused. "Didn't he talk to Countess and to Legend?"

Her expression hardens at the mention of Countess's name. "He didn't talk to her the way he talked to me. Ben is difficult, he always has been and I think that most of the people he meet him write him off as this asshole with a chauvinistic look on the world, but he's not. At least, not all the time. There are so many people that he's met that are never willing to take a chance on him. To trust that there is really something beneath all of that bravado."

It was what you had been thinking for the past week, that there was more to Ben than he was willing to let people see, but you were slowly realizing that Ben was letting you see those parts. In the quiet moments at your shared apartment when he sat with you while you read or made you laugh or walked you to and from work you saw another side of Ben that you never saw when he was around anyone else. The guilt rises again when you think of how you ran from him, how you turned your back and left him standing there to clean up your mess.

I shouldn’t have done that, but it was all just so overwhelming and I didn't want to talk to anyone.

"I think that Ben is the most loyal friend I ever had. No one ever seems to believe me when I say that. That we were just friends, but nothing happened between us."

"You didn't date? Or sleep together?" You ask cautiously. It was difficult to imagine Ben being friends with a woman and not having a sexual relationship with her.

Well. We're friends, but that's different.

The last thing you wanted to think about was Ben and your grandmother having sex.

I would need so much therapy after that. You sigh. Yeah, because after all the shit I've been through and found out about my life in the last twenty hours, the knowledge that Ben fucked my grandmother is what's going to push me over the edge.

"No." She shakes her head with a small smile. "About a week after I met Ben, I was running late to a movie shoot and I stepped off the crosswalk without looking. There was a car coming and I didn't see it. Ironic isn't it?" She laughs at herself. "I can see the future and I didn't see a car coming, but your grandfather did and he grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked me onto the sidewalk, saved my life. And the second my eyes locked with his I saw our future. I saw our wedding, our first house, I saw our son take his first steps and I saw how much I would love him and how much he would love me." She clears her throat for a minute, her fingers tighten on the glass, and her gaze drops to the wedding ring on her left hand. “The future is never set in stone, it’s fluid. It morphs and shapes with your decisions, but in the future I saw, I was so happy. And I didn’t want to lose that.”

Your grandfather had passed a few years ago, but you knew it weighed on her everyday. She had spent the week after he died in her room not saying anything to anyone. And sometimes she'd look out the window into the backyard with an odd expression, but you knew that meant she was thinking of him.

Growing up you'd seen how in love the two of them were, more so than your parents. Seen the flowers your grandfather always brought home just because he was thinking of her, watched him do little things around the house without being asked, saw how they never walked away angry from one another, and seen the soppy expression he'd get when he watched your grandmother move around the kitchen baking with a grace that you'd never possessed.

You reach across the table to touch her hand and she takes it gratefully.

"I didn't want to tell him that I was a supe, and at the beginning I thought I could balance it all, but then Ben started dating Countess." She takes another sip from her glass. "She hated me."

"What? Why?" You ask. The creature crawls across the table to sniff at the glass in front of you, before it snorts and falls into your lap, curling into a ball.

"Countess was a bitch." Your grandmother says mirthlessly, her expression hardening. "She wanted to possess Ben completely. Only loved how famous he was, how popular it made her, and he threw himself at her feet, in his own way, not understanding that love didn’t look that way. He’s never had a good example of it in his life. And she never understood that Ben and I were just friends. By then I had been dating your grandfather for a few months and things were getting serious. It was about a year before everything that happened in Nicaragua."

She presses her lips together as if remembering what happened to Ben there. "She was jealous, possessive, and she came to me one night. Ben was out of town for a film so she knew we wouldn’t be interrupted. She threatened to tell your grandfather who I really was and threatened to kill him.” Her jaw sets. ��My powers were never really as offensive as hers were. And she said that Ben wouldn’t ever protect me over her because he loved her and would do anything to make her happy. So I left and I never looked back.”

And here I thought I couldn't hate Countess any more than I did for what she did to Ben.

“You didn’t talk to him ever again?” You wonder out loud.

She left without telling him goodbye?

“There was the occasional phone call. Sometimes Ben would ask me to see who was going to win a ball game or something so he could make a few bucks. He stopped by to say hi a few times because he was in the neighborhood. One time he brought your father a baseball glove that was way too big for a one year old.” She snorts, the memory flashing in her eyes. “I always thought Ben would be a good dad some day. But I think seeing your father was when Ben realized how much he wanted to have kids. And I think seeing the way your grandfather treated me made him start to feel conflicted about Countess. But he respected that I walked away, he saw that I was happy.”

“But what about Nicaragua?"

A dark look crosses her face followed by something that looks suspiciously like guilt. “I saw what they were going to do to him.”

“What? But why didn't you tell him what they were planning? Why didn't you-"

"I tried." She snaps, shoulders tense, but then they drop. "I called Ben, but Stan answered. By then your father was turning two, your grandfather had opened up his practice, and Stan threatened me, he knew where we were and knew everything about us. So I kept my mouth shut and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

You could feel your heart breaking for her.

Ben was her best friend and she had to sit by and watch them do that to him. She saw what they were going to do and they were going to kill her for it, kill my family for it.

The anger that surges in your chest makes the creature in your lap stir and grow a few inches, but you tamp it down before it gets bigger than a small dog.

“Does Ben know?” You ask her to distract yourself.

You didn't want Ben to hate your grandmother for this, didn't want him to hate her for something that wasn't her fault.

She nods. “Yes. I told him everything.”

“When?”

“The moment I saw him in your hospital room. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I wasn't expecting him to be there, but it all poured out of me. I was so surprised to see him there. I hadn't seen a future where he came back."

“Was he mad?”

I mean… he didn't seem mad when I woke up, not to mention he was upset when she left to come back to Illinois.

“Not at me.” She shakes her head. “He knew how much I wanted a normal life and how much I loved your grandfather. He doesn’t blame me for any of it.”

“Good. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

The glass in front of you is still more than half-full but you don't want to risk another sip of what you're sure is gasoline packaged to look like Scotch. Your grandmother reaches to pour herself another glass.

“I didn’t want to until you were ready.”

“And when would that be?”

Your grandmother shrugs. “Maybe on my deathbed.”

You weren't angry for her not telling you, more surprised, but now that you knew everything about her it was hard to see her the same way you had.

You snort. “And no one knew?”

“Your dad figured it out.”

“How? When?”

“The moment you made that strawberry plant grow from your high chair.” She shakes her head with a smile. “It skipped a generation. Don’t know why, but you got it all somehow.”

“I was never injected?”

“No. That was a lie your father created. He knew that your grandfather didn't know and he knew that I didn't want your grandfather to know."

“Darren thought I was.”

“I know.”

At the mention of your brother's name, you watch her expression harden and she takes another swig from the glass in front of her, not flinching as the liquid goes down her throat.

“Did you see everything that happened?” You ask in a small voice.

You still weren't 100% sure how it was her powers worked, but you figured that she was able to see some of what Darren did and what he said.

“Yes.”

“You heard everything Darren said?"

“Yes.”

You chew the inside of your cheek for a minute hoping that she didn't take it as hard as you did. “Did you know that he killed them?”

“No.” She breathes, rolling the glass between her hands for a moment. “The night they died, I got a vision a few minutes before the car ran off the road. I was the one who called the police and who told them where to look, but I never saw that it was Darren or that it was anyone causing the accident. All I saw was the three of you in the car. I should have known.” Her voice breaks.

“It’s not your fault.” You squeeze her hand.

“And it’s not yours either.” She squeezes your hand back.

The memories are beginning to float up from the recesses of your mind and your teeth clench together as you try to keep them at bay.

“I know.” You breathe. The memory of the ruined shop flashes through your head. “I didn’t know that I could do something like that.” You gently touch your healed right arm and glance at the creature that is nibbling on the edge of the cardboard box with its sharp splinter-like teeth. “I feel so different and I don’t know how to go back to the way I was.”

“I don’t think you ever will.”

"Really?"

The thought was unwelcome. You were hoping that all of this was going to blow over, but you knew it wouldn't. Your powers had changed. There was an energy that thrummed in your veins now, stretching out of the house to the plants that grew in the garden. You could feel them all if you concentrated.

She frowns. “When you told me that you were working for Butcher I was worried about you getting involved in the supe world. I didn’t want that life for you, didn’t want you to suffer the way I did-“

“Was it really that bad?"

“Not all the time, just at the end. But I think that’s why I loved your grandfather so much. Because he was different than all the supes. He was down to earth, not just normal but-“ She shrugs. “I think Compound V does something to our minds, makes them more susceptible and when you’re surrounded by people using their powers and thinking that they’re gods it’s easy to lose who you are. I was glad I left when I did."

“Great." You huff, thinking about how your powers had grown exponentially since you killed your brother. It was scaring you to think that you would reach a point where you acted like Homelander, where you saw yourself as a god and killed anyone who stood in your way.

As tired as the stereotype of you only being able to make the flowers grow, you liked doing that. You liked healing plants, tending to them, and helping them grow. For you it had never been about using your powers the way that you had to kill Elijah and your brother and had always been about spreading a little more joy and love like your grandmother did with her kindness in her community.

Your mind flashes back to the first night that Ben stayed with you in your apartment and he'd asked you why you worked for Butcher and told you that he thought you "didn't fit."

Before you hadn't. You knew that. You weren't intimidating to look at or fueled by revenge or had a bone to pick with supes. You'd joined because you thought it was the right thing to do and because you wanted to be closer with Annie. She had been so involved in the supe world and you'd felt like you were losing your best friend. When in reality being at "Please Don't Die" was the only thing that felt natural for you.

You could feel yourself changing and you weren't sure that you wanted to and you weren't sure if you were changing for the better. Deep down you still felt like you, despite everything Darren had revealed, but your powers were greater than you'd thought they could be.

“No.” She squeezes your hand pulling you out of your head. “I don’t see you losing yourself in this.”

“You’ve seen-“ Your eyes widen.

“The future yeah.” Her lips twitch up at the ends in a smile. “It is what I do.”

“That’s so weird.”

You hadn't meant to say it, but you really didn't want to know too much about your future.

Well, not all that much. Maybe just a little.

“You of all people have no right to judge what’s weird. Not with Godzilla sitting in your lap.”

"Godzilla" yawns, flashing a mouthful of his pointy teeth, before settling back down on your thighs.

You smile for the first time in twenty hours, but then it drops. “I don’t like losing control. I thought I knew who I was but now I don’t-“ The emotions were bubbling up again, chest tightening, and lungs beginning to gasp for air. “I don’t know who I am anymore or what I am or what I can do and-“

“There’s nothing wrong with not being in control.”

“But what if I hurt someone? What if I kill-“ You body shakes as you think about all the important people in your life, Annie, Hughie, Butcher, Kimiko, MM, Frenchie- and then your mind stutters on Ben.

“Your powers are growing and there’s nothing to be afraid of or ashamed of. If you’re afraid of them it won’t get easier for you. You have to embrace the fear to see the lights that line the path through it.”

"I killed Darren, I killed Elijah-"

"Not because you lost control. You did it because you were protecting yourself and protecting your friends."

"But-"

"Who is it that you're scared of hurting? Annie?" Her expression turns sympathetic. "Annie is a supe and understands what it's like to lose control. None of us are in control all the time and it's ridiculous to believe that you won't lose control at least once."

Your throat clenches tightly, because when she asked the question you didn't see Annie's face, you saw Ben's. You knew that it was probably ridiculous to worry about hurting a guy with a nuclear reactor stuffed in his chest or a guy who'd been through every torture known to man, but you were. And you weren't entirely sure if you meant hurting him with just your powers.

Tears crest and fall down your cheeks as you sit there, throat thickening. "I don't want to hurt Ben."

"He's a little more indestructible than us sweetie." She cracks a smile, but you can't smile back and you don't answer because you're unsure how to.

She sits back against the breakfast nook and sighs, examining your face and slowly realizes what you mean. "Ben is complicated. He always has been. I like to think that most of it, is his father's fault. Has he told you anything about him?"

You shake your head.

"He was a dick. Made Ben think that he was a disappointment his whole life. I don't think that Ben has had someone love him unconditionally since his mother died. And loving Countess only made it worse for him. Her love was jealous, possessive, and I don't think that he's really come to terms with what real love should look like." She lets out a breath, tapping her index finger against the glass. "I never saw him as more than a friend, but I do love him. It's not a crime to love him."

"I don't love him." You say it immediately.

"Why not?"

"What?" You sputter. "I don't know what you're-"

"Tell me why you don't love him." Your grandma says methodically, as if she's trying to talk you through it.

"Because I-" The pressure was back in the back of your throat and you couldn't quite meet her eye. "Because-" You scramble for the answer, trying your darndest to keep your heart from clenching in your chest. "I want what you and grandpa had, what Annie and Hughie have, and what my parents had. A strong relationship with someone who sees all my flaws, the little parts, and the darkness and still choses to fall in love with me anyway. I don't want just one night I want every night. I want something real and Ben has said countless times that he-"

"So you've talked about it with Ben?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Only because he kept trying to sleep with me and I told him that I didn't want to have sex with him." You reply exasperated.

"You don't?"

"Gran!"

"What? He's attractive."

"It doesn't matter. None of it does. Because Ben has said that he doesn't have relationships, that he doesn't care about feelings, or emotions." Saying the words that Ben had told you countless times made something inside begin to shrivel up and die. "And I do. And I don't want to manipulate him into being something he's not or force him into a relationship that's doomed from the beginning. Ben is Ben. He's not changing or-"

"He has." She interrupts.

"What?"

"The Ben I saw in your hospital room is not the one I knew." She says it so matter of fact that makes it hard to breathe. "And neither was the one that I saw in your apartment when I stayed with you. I mean he is in essence Ben, but-"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"He is changing. Not completely, but he's acting differently than when he was with Countess. I mean, I saw all the things he did for her. The way he was around her."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because he loved her."

The words make your heart seize in your chest. "Ben doesn't love me. He's my roommate and my friend-" It was the same thing that you kept telling yourself on repeat to beat back the other feelings that you hadn't quite identified yet. "And he's told me that he doesn't want a relationship and that I should try to meet other people."

That last part was a lie, but you honestly didn't know where she was going with this conversation or why it was getting so hard to breathe.

"Have you thought that maybe Ben doesn't want to love you because he's scared?"

"He doesn't love me and Ben isn't afraid of anything."

"He is. It might not look the same way on him as it does on everyone else, but if you pay close enough attention you can catch it." She hesitates. "And I think if you pay attention to you, you'll see what it is that you're afraid of too."

What does she mean? What the hell am I afraid of? Ben isn't afraid of anything, he's practically shouted that from the mountaintops like Julie Andrews.

"I already told you what I'm afraid of."

"I'm not talking about you hurting someone honey. There's something else that you refuse to admit to yourself because you're scared." She smiles sadly at you. "You should though, because when you embrace it, what comes after is really beautiful." There's a far off look in her eyes and you realize that she'd seen something further ahead that she wasn't letting on.

"And it's all I want for you. To be happy." Your grandmother stands from the other side of the booth "I think you need some rest. You drove all night long and I doubt you got any sleep. And I have to package all of these before Annie's mother calls down the four horsemen of the Apocalypse on me."

"Wait-"

"Please sweetie." She lays her hand down on your arm. "I think you'll feel a little better about all of this when you've had some rest." Her fingers raise to push back some of the hair that's fallen forward into your eyes. "Hmm?"

You didn't want to rest, you wanted to talk about this, but you knew better than to argue with her. Not to mention she was right, you hadn't slept.

"And when you wake up I'll make your favorite for dinner, alright?" She smiles, but there's something behind it that you can't place.

"Okay."

And this time you don't argue with her. You go up the worn staircase that you have your entire life and collapse onto your bed, wondering exactly what it was she saw your future hold, and what it is that you won't admit to yourself.

Soldier Boy POV

There was no light in the apartment save from the burning red tip of Ben's blunt and the bluish glow emanating from the tv that caught the dips and sharp edges of his face. But it was nothing more than background noise.

His hand absentmindedly stroked along Bean's back, his eyes focused on the ceiling above the couch. He hadn't moved in hours. It had been over twenty four hours since everything that happened at the plant shop, since you'd summoned a creature from the depths of the store, since Darren had thrown Ben through the plate glass windows of the bakery, and since Ben had last seen you.

He didn't understand why you hadn't let him take you back to the apartment and why it was that you had to leave. Ben hadn't liked the feeling that stabbed him in the chest when you turned your back on him and ran away. He'd felt the urge to comfort you the way he'd watched Hughie do for Annie in the car a week ago, but you hadn't let him.

Instead all he'd done is stood there and watched you run, still covered in dust, rubble, and blood. Worse was you hadn't let him check you for injuries and Ben hated the thought that you were hurt somewhere and he didn't know where you were.

You were so much more fragile than he was. He was realizing that more every day, was acutely aware of it after everything that happened with Elijah. Honestly, sitting there in the hospital with you laying there asleep with nothing that he could do, but wait for you to wake up had been agony. Not to mention that looking at the bruises around your throat, over your eye, and the bright green cast only made him feel worse. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life and he hated it. Because Ben wasn't some helpless damsel in distress, he was a man and a man shouldn't wait on anyone or feel out of control, or at least, that's what he told himself.

Ben hears someone walk down the hallway outside the apartment and he perks up to listen, hoping that it's you finally coming home. Ben's mind stutters on the word "home." He'd lived many places in his life, apartments that felt more like way-stations, and the drafty cold mansion back in Philadelphia where he grew up, but neither felt like home. And although he hated how small your apartment was, it was the first place that Ben liked living in. He was starting to understand the word home.

But the feet keep moving past the apartment and Ben sinks into the couch cushions. Even Bean seems to be disappointed. "It's alright buddy." Ben mutters. "She'll come back."

But he wasn't sure.

Ben also wasn't used to feeling this way. It was close to the way that he felt when he went to Boston and was sitting in that damn hotel room waiting for something to happen and he still didn't understand what it meant. He didn't understand why he couldn't stand it that you weren't back yet. It made him feel like a woman waiting for her husband to get home from work when he told her that he was "running late." He'd tried to distract himself by looking at some possible prospects on Tinder, but just like the week after you'd come home from the hospital and just like the date he had in Boston, no one held any appeal.

His mind was awake and roaming around, pacing back and forth. The blunt was supposed to help, but it hadn't.

His phone chirps and Ben picks it up to look at the screen, but it's not you, it's Jake.

Jake: I know that I'm not your favorite person, but thank you for what you did.

Ben huffs and turns his phone face down on the couch once more. "What a fucking pussy."

When you left Ben had realized that Jake was still inside the building and as much as he wanted race after you, he understood that you'd be even more upset if you'd killed Jake. So Ben had tromped back through the building and found him trapped beneath some rubble. Jake was okay, just unconscious, but Ben had carried him out and put him on the sidewalk before he high tailed it out of there. The last thing that he wanted was to be caught with a shredded body outside a ruined building.

I didn't do it for him. I did it for her. Ben thinks to himself, looking down at the text message.

As much as he hated the thought of saving your future boyfriend, he didn't want to see what it did to you if you found out that you killed Jake, so he'd done it to avoid watching you cry again.

Ben didn't understand why he hated watching you cry.

Women cry. They're damn emotional all the time. He tries to reason with himself taking a puff from the blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. And she fucking cries way too much.

The image of you crying outside of the shop in the wake of everything that happened pricks something under his ribcage. Fuck.

Ben didn't feel remorse for what happened, well, the only thing he regretted was not getting there sooner and getting to fuck Darren up himself. When Diana had called him to tell him that Darren was coming, Ben had practically ripped the apartment door off in his haste to get back to you. He hadn’t wanted to leave you at the plant shop, but Butcher had told Ben, that he had a possible location for Darren, but it came up empty and Ben had been at Butcher's apartment chewing him out for sending him on a fucking wild goose chase.

It only made Ben more angry to allow Darren to speak to you, but he was trying to let you handle it even though he wanted to handle him. But it had brought him an unholy amount of joy to throw Darren in front of that minivan and to watch that creature tear him apart while the final whitish blue pulses of electricity jumped and crackled down the street making the streetlights shower sparks everywhere.

But Ben was more upset that Darren had been able to land a few hits on you before you killed him.

Ben remembered the giant lizard that crawled out of what was left of "Please Don't Die" and felt his lips quirk up into a smile. As much as he hated the entire situation, Ben couldn't help but feel a little surge of pride at what you'd done to your brother. He'd never seen you look so powerful standing there in the street, your eyes glowing a brilliant green, arms outstretched, and the ground trembling around you as the world begged to be unleashed.

Of course he'd been just as surprised as you were at the fact that you'd healed your broken arm. He wasn't sure if you'd noticed it yet, but you looked different too. There weren't as many lines on your face and your hair was more springy, the few silver hairs that Ben had noticed in passing were no longer there.

He wasn't sure what that meant, but there was something that felt suspiciously like hope tingling in his stomach, hope that you weren't as fragile anymore and hope that it meant you wouldn't die.

When Diana had told Ben that her husband had died, he saw the pain in her eyes when she said it, saw her relieving the memory, and for some reason as soon as she said that he was dead, the first thing Ben thought about was you. Ben hadn't considered his inability to age as much in the past, hadn't cared about outliving anyone before. Seeing Countess as an older woman had made him more aware of it. Looking at the woman who he once thought he loved, had showed him what that was like. Not that he had a problem with daring older women, Ben always thought that women really did get better with age, but it was what came next that Ben wasn't fond of.

And for some reason thinking that one day he'd wake up and see the marks of age on your face or one day he'd wake up and he wouldn't be able to annoy you or hear you yell at him made his chest tight.

Ben takes another hit of his blunt. The longer he sat there the more then unnatural feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach, thrumming through his veins, the feeling that he was trying to avoid. He thought that the joint would calm him down, but he found himself jumping at every creak and footstep in the apartment building, perking up each time and hoping that it was you coming home.

He didn't know where you were. You hadn't answered any of his texts or calls and Ben was ashamed at how many times that he had tried to call you.

Get a fucking grip. He'd thought to himself when he typed out another text message to send you, stopping himself from sending it.

But he'd been so desperate to hear from you that he'd actually gone to talk to Annie who seemed upset that she couldn't get ahold of you either. When Hughie and Annie had seen how upset Ben had been, Hughie had laid his hand on Ben's arm and told him not to worry. Ben had yelled at him that he "wasn't fucking worried and to mind his own business" and had shaken off Hughie's comforting hand before stomping out of the shared apartment.

No one else seemed to be as concerned about finding you. Butcher, MM, and Frenchie were all deeply involved in trying to figure out the cover-up for what happened outside the plant shop. By some miracle no one had caught a picture of your face, but there was little they could do about Darren's body that had been strewn across the street. Annie was having to deal with the repercussions at work, trying to handle what the news was calling a "super villain threat."

Personally, Ben thought that since they froze Homelander, the Seven looked weak and Ben believed that the superhero team that represented America shouldn't look weak. Of course before Ben had also thought that they looked like a bunch of pussies and again felt himself sink deeper into the couch when he thought about what his supposed son had become.

He shakes off the feelings he has about it and his thoughts turn back inevitably to you.

Ben wasn't used to thinking about someone as much as he thought of you, but each time he settled back into the apartment and you weren't there he was hyperaware of how quiet it was.

Maybe I should call Diana. She might know where she is.

As soon as Ben thinks that, his phone begins to ring, but Ben doesn't bother to look at who it is before he answers it.

"Hello?" Ben huffs out a breath of smoke that hangs in the air in front of his face, catching in the bluish light coming from the television.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The voice on the other side of the line yells at him.

"Di?"

"Yes it's me. Who did you think it was? Santa Clause?" Your grandmother snarks.

"Why are you calling me and why the fuck are you so mad? What did I do?" Ben answers slightly annoyed.

As much as you got under his skin, your grandmother had been the same way. He actually thought that it was amusing that even before he figured out that she was your grandmother that he had often compared you to her in his mind. You had the same mannerisms, the same defiant and stubborn attitude that drove Ben up the wall, and you were just as beautiful as she was.

Ben was okay with admitting that he was attracted to you. To him that felt normal, it was the other feelings that he was conflicted about, the ones that he'd never felt before stirring in his chest that made him feel "too emotional" and "woman-like."

Truthfully, Ben was sure that if your grandmother had given him a shot that maybe he would have felt that way about her too. She was the only person that Ben actually trusted in the 80's, the only person that was brave enough to call him out on all his shit. You did that now. But he liked her husband also, so Ben was content with letting her go. He liked how happy that Henry, your grandfather, had made her. He knew that she wasn't happy as a supe and seeing her so happy and in love made Ben feel something that was close to happiness.

And it was seeing the way the two of them were together made Ben wonder if what he had with Countess was the same thing. Because he did have feelings about her that were different, but each time he went to visit Diana and saw your father playing on her lap he felt that there was something missing in his life.

It was the same way that he thought something was missing when you weren't in the apartment, but Ben hadn't realized that yet.

"Because I don't understand what the hell you're doing!" Diana replies and Ben honestly doesn't know why she's angry with him.

"About what?"

"My granddaughter."

Ben sits up the blunt in his fingertips forgotten. "Is she there with you?"

"Yes." Her voice softens for a moment.

Ben relaxes and leans back onto the couch, sighing in relief. "Good. That's good." Relief swelled in his chest when he thought about you staying with her, safe.

That's what she meant when she said that she wanted to go home. Home is with her grandmother. Ben stopped the next thought before he could go there.

The thought that home wasn't with him.

Ben was trying not to think about that or think about you hating him. He didn't think you did, well, didn't think you did anymore. At first it really was touch and go, but now he was almost eighty percent sure after you'd told him more than once that you weren't afraid of him and didn’t hate him that you sometimes wanted him around.

"No, not good."

"What do you mean? Is she okay?" Ben's grip on the phone tightens so hard that he's sure that he hears the screen cracking.

"No."

"What happened?" Ben's voice is a growl, the feelings of relief evaporating as soon as they had begun to bloom in his chest. He mentally calculated how long it would take him to get to you.

"Her entire life fucking fell apart and where are you? Not here!"

Oh. Ben relaxed a little bit.

"I don't need to be there." He says on an exhale of smoke.

"Yes you do!" Diana presses.

"No, I don't. She a big girl she doesn't need me there, she's-" Ben takes a puff from the joint.

“If you were any denser you’d be a Bundt cake Benjamin!” She says exasperated.

"What the fuck are you talking about doll? I am not-"

“Let me guess." She interrupts and Ben can imagine her tapping her foot. He hated when she did that. "You’re moping around smoking a blunt on the couch probably with a glass of something that you're hoping to numb whatever the hell it is you're feeling."

Ben's eyes shift to the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table that he hadn't touched in a few minutes.

“I’m not fucking moping and stop spying on me!” He snaps back at Diana.

He hated how well she knew him. She was his best friend in the 80's through all the shit, she had seen him at his worst and at his best too many times to count.

“I don’t have to use my powers to know what you’re doing. I know you Ben.”

"Sorry to disappoint you sweetheart.” Ben grits his teeth, temper flaring hot. “But if you know me as well as you fucking say you do then you then you know that this is-“

“You avoiding your feelings by acting aloof and brooding like a fucked up version of Mr. Darcy.” She interrupts.

She certainly hasn't changed.

“I am not avoiding-“

“She needs you here Ben.” Diana stamps her foot, the same way you do when Ben pisses you off, and Ben can hear it.

“She doesn’t need me! She said that she wanted to go home, that she didn’t want to be here with me! I tried to-“ Ben shouts back standing up. It was the exact thing that he'd been thinking for the past twenty four hours, that you didn’t need him and that you didn't want to be any where near him.

That last thought made an uncomfortable sensation prickle in his gut when he thought it, because all it did was remind him of how you acted when the two of you first met, when you didn't want him to live with you and tried your darndest to make him go away.

He didn’t want to and he wasn't sure why that was.

“Try harder.” Diana interrupts him again and frankly it was pissing him off.

Ben clenches his jaw. “I think that you’ve confused me with someone else baby.”

“Don’t you 'baby' me Benjamin! We both know that you’re doing what you always do when things get hard for you.”

“And what’s that?”

“You pretend not to care and shut out everyone who tries to care for you. Not to mention you drown yourself in drugs, booze, and women.”

“She doesn’t care about me!” He spits.

“She does!” Diana snaps back. “And believe it or not she needs you here and she wants you here.”

"But-"

"Ben please." It was the first time that he'd heard Diana sound softer and almost pleading since the conversation started. "Don't do this to her. She's worth more than Countess and all those other women you've fallen into bed with."

"Do you really think I don't know that?" He roars. The answer surprises himself. "Do you think I don't know that she's different?"

Wait what?

"If you know that, then why aren't you here?"

He hesitates.

Everything you said to him the night of the party comes roaring back. You looking beautiful in a dress that made his throat tight, and you telling him that you just wanted to be friends and that you understood that he wasn't the type of guy to have relationships. He didn't understand why it stung a bit when you said that, but it had.

Ben thinks about the week that the two of you spent together after Diana went home, when he tried his best to take care of you, distract you from everything that happened with his movies, and would sit with you and try to make you laugh. He'd never wanted to take care of someone before.

Not to mention he kind of liked the way you laughed. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone, but each time you did, it made him want to laugh too. That had never happened to him before. But he wanted to make you laugh to forget everything that happened with Elijah. His fist clenches when he thinks of exactly what Elijah tried to do to you and it makes him feel so mad that he feels close to spontaneously combusting. Ben might not be the best role model when it came to women, but he couldn’t imagine the type of man who would force himself on someone else.

It had made him angry when he thought that you were suggesting that he would try something when he first moved in, because he wasn't that type of man.

Ben was trying to be better for you. He wasn't admitting that, but he really was trying to be better. He didn't understand why. You'd told him countless times that you didn’t want to be with him, that you wanted to be with someone else like Jake.

Ben frowns when he thinks about the man he'd pulled from the rubble of the shop. And again thinks to himself that you should be with someone different, someone who was a supe and could understand you. Ben had seen how difficult it was for Diana when she was keeping her supe life a secret from your grandfather and he didn't want you to have to do that with someone.

"Because I'm not-" Ben begins to say, but he holds his tongue. It was too honest, too raw, too unlike him to admit this to anyone.

Because I'm not this guy. Because I'm not the one she wants. Because I'm not some knight on a white horse. Because she's everything right with the world and I'm just a fucking asshole who sleeps on her couch.

"Ben." Diana breathes and he can practically hear her pinching the bridge of her nose. "In all the years I've known you, you've never done what you did for her with anyone else. You carried her out of that warehouse, you stayed with her in the hospital even after she woke up, you took care of her when she came home, you protected her from Darren. You can't ignore all those things."

"I'm not ignoring them. She's my friend." The word sours in his mouth as he says it. "And she would have done the same thing for me." He knew it was true.

She's a good person and she wouldn't let me chase her away if any of that shit happened to me and I told her to leave me alone.

"Yes she would. Because she cares about you." Diana sighs.

"She doesn't."

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Because she's told me what she wants!" Ben shouts so loudly he can feel the room shaking. "She wants to be friends-“

"Because she doesn't think that you want a relationship you nitwit!"

"I don't." Ben spits the words before he can stop them, but as he does something tightens at the base of his throat.

"How is it that it's been forty fucking years and you're still able to dance on the grave of my last nerve?"

Ben chuckles. "I missed you too sweetheart."

She sighs into the phone again making it crackle in Ben's ear. "She needs you.” Diana repeats. “And I think you need her too.”

His temper was flaring again, the thoughts that his father pressed into him surging up before he can stop the words. “I don’t need anyone. I’m Sol-“

“If you say that you’re Soldier Boy, I’m going to reach through this phone and slap you silly.” She snaps. “And you do need her, but you’re still just too stubborn to admit it.”

“I-“

“Ben I know that everything that happened with Countess was fucked up, but my granddaughter she-“ Diana pauses before she changes the thought. “You say that you know she’s different, but right now you’re treating her the same way you treat all those other women.”

“I’m not-“

“My granddaughter has decided you’re important to her and once that’s happened it’s hard to make her let go. You saw the way she was with Darren and that guy was a manipulative asshole. Imagine what she thinks of you.”

“I-“

“Stop making excuses!”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!” Ben shouts.

“And I don’t need to! Think what you want Ben but if you’d stop acting so stubborn and so ridiculously blind to what’s right in front of you. I promise that what comes next is worth the risk.”

“Don’t go all fucking mystical on me doll.”

“And don’t go all macho- no feelings asshole on me! So stop being so damn stubborn, get on a plane and get your ass here.” She retorts. “Don’t fuck this up Benjamin because if you do I’ll fuck you up.”

The line goes dead.

Ben sat there for a minute in the silence still holding the phone up to his ear, listening to what your grandmother said to him ring around in his head for a second.

No one ever spoke to him that way. In fact, Ben had never allowed anyone to speak to him the way that she did, well, not until you came along. You reminded him so much of her that it was astounding and he wasn't going to admit that maybe it's why he liked being around you so much.

Ben frowns at what Diana said, thinking about the unusual feelings that were swirling in the pit of his stomach. He felt wrong and the feelings were odd for him. He hadn't felt anything remotely like this ever in his life, not even for Countess.

And although Ben refused to be afraid of anything, the feelings he was having scared him. He didn’t understand and he wasn't sure that he wanted to. He wasn't sure that he wanted to see where this ended up. He felt like he was in too deep.

As much as he wanted to go to you like Diana ordered him to, he wasn't sure that he should. Something was holding him back, digging it's heels in and refusing to budge.

But why do I feel like-

His phone rings and he doesn't look at the caller ID when he picks up, expecting it to be Diana again, yelling at him.

"Di I-"

But it's not Diana.

"Hello Ben. It's nice to hear your voice again." The familiar voice says, sounding calm and collected.

"What the fuck do you want?" Ben snarls.

"I thought it was time the two of us had a chat.”

A/N: At this point Diana is really just trying to give both Ben and the reader the kick in the pants they need. And yes I know another cliffhanger, but you know you love it. 🤭😉 We are quickly reaching the end of this series, but that means the confession scene is coming and I am so excited about it!!

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know. 😊

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

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@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

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#jensen ackles #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys series #the boys fanfiction #the boys fanfic #the boys

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syoddeye · 2 days ago

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the warren, part seven - call

price x f!reader | 4k words | series page | ao3 tags: background ghoap, multi pov, animal death, mentioned oral both f! and m!receiving, manipulation a/n: new friend next chapter; had to split this into two since it was getting way too long. shout out to gemma and tats <3. mdni banner by @/cafekitsune. 🔪

Bonnie. Bunny. Rabbit. Skittish thing. Brave thing.

Hasn’t met her face-to-face yet, but he likes her. Her scent carries. The sillage of her floral soap drifts through the air, lingering just as vividly as it does on her pillow. She reads a lot of books. Admirable. He doesn’t have the patience anymore. She must be clever.

From what he’s seen, her work isn’t half-bad. Rough around the edges but better than the shite he’d cobble together. Couldn’t pay him to pretend to care about some dead cousin or happy bride. She doesn’t know a thing about pay rates, though. Strangers robbing her blind. Makes him angry.

John orders him to sabotage the laptop. Says if he manages it, he’ll earn a spot on the boat. So, of course, it’s done. He slips in with Simon and works his magic. Doesn’t take much given the computer’s age.

He leans into it when Simon drags his nails from his scalp to his nape. He should’ve known then, when Simon called him a good boy, that he’d be sent below to check the rabbits. He sulks into the dark.

The reward for good work is always more work.

The air turns eldritch and metallic in the back of his throat the further he travels, a thick miasma prone to clinging. After all this time, he hasn’t grown accustomed. It fills his mouth with a heavy, sour tang, and swallowing doesn’t get rid of it. He should’ve stolen a pillowcase.

His nose twitches at the notes of an unfamiliar scent cutting through the fog. A faint, sickly-sweet rot, like meat left too long. The smell gradually envelops the passage.

A lantern illuminates the edges of the twin hutches. There is no movement in the shadows beyond, but that isn’t what stops him in his tracks. There is no sound. No rustling or thumps. The rabbits do not gather in their nervous, curious way to greet him.

Treading closer, his vision adjusts, and he spots the first rabbit. Unnaturally still with its limbs bent at strange angles. Milky-white eyes tinged red, blood seeping from every orifice.

Fuckin’ grand.

He fucking hates it when this happens. Always puts John in a foul mood.

Huffing loudly, he rolls his sleeves and slips on the gloves jammed into his pocket. Stomping toward the hutches, he mutters a string of curses.

The reward for good work is always more work.

~~~~

You wake with a start, your heart thrashing against your ribs. Beside you, John’s chest steadily rises and falls in stark comparison to the shudder of your own. Squinting, you latch onto his hand flat over his abdomen as a focal point, coming down from whatever nightmare you must’ve had.

Though as your breathing evens out, the vague scent of brimstone and iron tickles your nose. It drifts over the bed and disappears as quickly as the remnants of your dread, with no trace lingering behind when you sit up and take deep breaths.

You wince at the hour on your phone, and recheck the unknown number. No update.

>> F741 >> hold

> Who is this?

Cryptic, to be sure, but you’ve received a message by mistake. It’s likely a pocket text.

You return your phone to its place, and John stirs. His eyes remain shut, but he reaches for you, his voice rough with sleep.

“You alright?”

“A bad dream,” you almost laugh, because of how silly you feel. Old houses have their sounds. Odors, too, you suppose. In response to his rumblings, you let him pull you down, and trace a soothing line over his chest, hoping he won’t notice the tremor in your touch.

As you cozy in, already sweating from the furnace that he is, you cannot shake the feeling of something unseen, a shadow or a specter, hiding just out of sight.

~~~~

Romance.

John snorts derisively at the garish covers depicting happy couples. Some far-fetched nonsense called Museum Muse and Just Sign Here. She is right. He’s not inclined to read them. However, it is reassuring to know she craves it, even if she’s wary of it—love.

She certainly fantasizes about it. She’d deny it if asked, but considering the collected evidence, that isn’t necessary. All her gasping and whining. The shame is the cherry on top, something to savor each time she smothers her noises, even when alone.

Hearing the shower across the cabin, the sound of its stream breaking against her body is enough to make his cock twitch. He’s half a mind to intrude, but after waking her up on his tongue, he reckons she needs a break. Instead, he double-checks Soap’s work and thumbs through the borrowed titles toward a bookmark, curious about her salacious stories. To see if there’s anything useful to—

His thumb catches heavy cardstock. He cracks the spine and his eyes narrow on official letterhead.

Phillip Graves.

That man is swiftly climbing his list of problems. A biting fly buzzing around the ears of the populace. He glances from the card to the bathroom, tongue swiping over his teeth. She’s proving to be quite the crafty liar, too, though it’s more from fear than intent. A wound that makes her flinch, learned from that ingrate husband of hers. That particular man’s one more bump in the road, but simpler to handle than a fed. Everyone knows what to do with rats.

His ears perk when the water shuts off. He makes an impulsive decision.

She doesn’t notice, padding from the bathroom to the bedroom in a towel, but she does when she’s dressed.

“Feelin’ better?”

The poor thing gawks, her big eyes not on him, but the novel. She fidgets. “I thought you didn’t like those sorts of stories.”

“No, sweetheart, you assumed,” He corrects, twirling the improvised bookmark in his free hand. “Don’t worry. I remember your place.”

That gets her moving. She closes the distance, hovering at his side, hands twitching and clearly caught between snatching up the book or card.

“It’s stupid to use as a bookmark, but it’s what I had after Phil gave me his card at the diner.”

“Phil?” What a peculiar familiarity. “I don’t recall him giving you a card.”

“Oh.” She falters. There it is. “That’s right, he…may have stopped by the other day.”

“May have?’ What was he after, darl?” He pats the arm of the chair for her to sit, and snakes an arm around her. His fingertips skim just under the hem of her shirt, her skin soft and smooth from bathing. Her vellus hair stands on end beneath his fingertips. He’s always found it curious that the human body knows before the brain. A narrow wire to walk, but he’s had practice.

“He…he wanted to know about those boys who came into the store. The ones who…”

“Crashed their car?”

Fucking rats. It sets his teeth on edge. ‘Phil’ could’ve asked any number of questions. John doubts she will tell him everything. He needs to install audio as soon as possible.

John grins. “Is he trying to claim we’re in trouble because we sold them beer?”

“He hasn’t contacted you?”

“No. That’s rather unprofessional, don’t you think? He’ll badger my lovely employee but not me?” He pauses, then hums as if he’s made yet another discovery. He rubs her hip, putting on a slightly dejected air. “Oh, I see.”

“What? What is it?”

“He came onto you, didn’t he?” He casts his focus elsewhere as if he physically cannot look at her. “You’re not seeing him too, right?”

Predictably, it pushes her buttons. “What?! No!” She angles toward him. A hand lands on his shoulder, journeying shyly to his face to cup a cheek. “No, John.”

He leans into her palm and kisses its heel. Such a lovely creature. “Sorry, sweetheart. It’s not you, it’s me.” He sighs. “It’s happened before. Two-timin’. Makes me paranoid. Nothing puffs up my chest faster than another buck sniffin’ around.” He slips his fingers under hers, minding how easy it’d be to hold on and never let go.

“Loyalty is everything to me, y’know. I may know just about everyone in these parts, but my inner circle’s small. I’ve lost a lot of folk over the years. Some ties severed by my choice, others, not so much. Fate’s been cruel, so I’m quite protective.”

John tilts his head, relishing the softness in her face. Romance.

“Sometimes, I think there’s a greater force at play. That I must’ve done something right to have found you.” He squeezes her hand. “Rather, you found me, didn’t you? Could’ve run to any corner of this earth, but you chose this slice of Eden.”

Her smile is a balm for the weary spirit, his most restless of all.

“Maybe it’s luck,” she suggests, then adds, “Or something. I certainly feel lucky, with everything you’ve done for me…”

Ah, this old refrain.

He says nothing, just watches as she shifts her weight, her eyes flitting down before she slowly moves, as if testing her decision prior to committing to it. Then, to his surprise, she lowers. Kneels. It tests his restraint, every fiber of his being baying for suppliance. Her palms nervously fit over his knees.

It’s only polite to ask. “You sure?”

She reaches for his belt with a nod. “I want to.”

He forces his mouth into a shape passable for humility and studies her expression. Devotion practically radiates off her, and an eagerness to show it. That’s something the others lacked. This is a start. Initiative and promise. Love.

A contentedness spreads through him, rolling down his spine in sync with the descent of his zipper. Rich and heavy as honey, warming him with a satisfaction he’d longed to taste.

He remembers her place. She’s learning it.

~~~~

When John leaves, you brush your teeth. You stare into the mirror, faintly disbelieving, as if your eyes belong to a stranger. Didn’t think you’d do that any time soon, but it must be growth. The months away from the desert have reshaped you, revealing a gentler line to your mouth, a brightness to your gaze, and an ease to your brow. The thought of being a little happier feels dangerous. Fragile and premature. And yet, you cannot deny the woman in your reflection. Soap’s words ring clear.

Love’s got a way of changing people.

A phantom weight presses on your tongue the longer you look, and your face grows hot.

Still. You smile and like what you see.

Days pass, and the number never texts back. John doesn’t mention Phil again.

The peace is an uneasy one, but you’ll take it.

There’s a lull at the store after the holiday, a return to the usual pace. John’s business takes him around the area, leaving you to staff the counter for a few afternoons. However, you suspect Soap’s loitering outside is no coincidence. He doesn’t bother you, but you wish he would. He was friendly enough at the boat before Simon’s interruption.

Lover’s quarrel, John had said, but Simon’s face suggested otherwise.

You can’t help the twinge in your chest, a trip cord wrapped around your heart. Though Soap admitted he was scared of Simon, he didn’t seem frightened. You grapple with the urge to reach out, the impulse caught in your throat like a stone, weighty with your own memories.

When you finally work up the nerve to ask if he wants to chat while you close, Simon’s with him, a helmet tucked under his arm.

Through the window, you watch the men, Soap’s face aglow with excitement, swaying foot to foot. You don’t interrupt, familiar with the possible consequences. You decide to wait and ask Soap to walk you instead.

Of course, you’re not so lucky.

“I’ll take you. Johnny’ll wait for Price.” Simon thrusts a spare helmet into your hands the moment you step outside.

There’s no discussion or debate. Simon watches you shove the helmet over your head with a look of rancor, a harsh set to his jaw, then swings a thick leg over the ATV. He doesn’t help as you climb on, slotting awkwardly behind him. You try to leave space, but he reaches back, curls a hand under your knee, and hauls half of your body forward. Tilting nearly off-balance, you grab his waist, swiftly bracketing your other leg to his.

“Be good, Johnny.” He barks as the ATV roars to life between your legs.

Your hands slide around him as he backs up, burying into his shirt to feel a slab of muscle. A short, surprised cry bursts out when he abruptly accelerates, cutting off a car in the road as he peels out. You clutch tighter as the ATV jerks around the bend and forward, pulse revving alongside the machine as Simon throws it against the incline.

The ride itself is, thankfully, brief. The cats scatter as Simon veers sharply and sends a spray of gravel flying as he lurches to a stop. You clamber off, legs unsteady, and thank him as evenly as possible.

Simon does not immediately take the helmet from your outstretched hand. He stares with his mitts wrapped tight around the handlebars. Hard to believe hands the size of spades are dexterous enough for a trade like taxidermy. When he finally takes it, you flee with a shaky gait.

“Be good, rabbit.”

Laughter follows you to the door.

Night presses in on the cabin. You tuck into the armchair with your book, grimacing at the business card. Such a stupid, stupid mistake, letting John find it. How close you’d been to spilling. Disappointing John worried you, but crossing Phil terrified you. His cryptic manner of speaking, all his dancing around what he meant. It didn’t inspire trust, nor did his badge. At least he’d gone silent. Not a word since his visit.

The agent lurks in your subconscious. You have some notion of how investigations work. If he’s run your name and if he’s discovered anything, wouldn’t he have dragged you back by now? Could he do that? Would he?

Eventually, you concede. Your mind keeps drifting and catching on everything else you’ve tried to avoid thinking about. You toss the book onto the coffee table with a huff and rise to prepare for–

The library’s label, clean and laminated, sticks out on the spine. The letters 'P', trailed by a line of digits.

Realization as cold as lakewater washes over you.

>> F741 >> hold

It’s a call number. A book.

You reach for the phone as soon as the hour turns reasonable. Dialing Nikolai with one hand, you rub your eyes with the other, feeling hollowed out. You didn’t close your eyes all night.

To your relief, he answers. A jarring clang accompanies his greeting, underlaid by a rhythmic crank and humming.

“Nikolai, sorry if I’m interrupting, but I was wondering if there are any updates?”

“Ah, rabbit, darling, a moment.” It’s clear he’s set the phone down by the sound of footsteps and a distant grunt. His humming evolves into whistling, culminating in a faint rumble in Russian. What follows, erupting through the receiver, is a cacophony of mechanical sounds, jagged and violent. Something thrums with a relentless chorus of metal grinding against metal, punctuated by deep, resonant clunks and crunches that make you pull the phone from your ear and hold it at arms-length.

It’s a minute before Nikolai returns, and the terrible noise grows quieter. He cuts you off before you get a word in, providing a non-answer about your car and a reminder about the cost of towing it to the nearest city. It is sorely beyond your budget.

“So impatient. Where are you trying to scurry off to? Do you need transport?”

“No, it’s nothing urgent,” Your jaw aches from clenching it. “I simply don’t want to bother John.”

“Why not? He’s your man.” He almost sounds annoyed. “Listen, rabbit, I’ll do you a favor and tell John you need a ride.”

You freeze. “Oh, no, you don’t need to do that–”

The line goes dead with an unceremonious click.

“Why didn’t you come to me first?”

The truck bounces along the road, the warm air through the window merging pine and with John’s tobacco. You rest against the frame, watching the forest.

“I was going to.” A white lie or two can’t hurt. “I’m just anxious about my car. It’s been weeks, and Nikolai keeps dodging my questions. I’m close to threatening to tow it if he can’t fix it by the end of the month.”

John snorts. “Good luck. He does not like ultimatums, speaking from experience.”

You glance at John out of the corner of your eye. Lying to him stings, especially after he poured his heart out, but you know he’ll think you foolish about the mystery text.

“Did you…know there’s a closed mine shaft behind Nikolai’s shop? When we were there, I followed one of his shop cats and saw it.”

John’s lip quirks around his cigar. “You follow every cat you meet?”

“They haven’t led me astray yet.”

“S’pose so. And I do know about the mine shaft. The area’s full of them. Folk used to say Mount Grouse is hollow from the silver rush.”

The smile slips from your face. Silver. The West’s full of it—silver and promises. Dusty whispers in your ear from hundreds of miles away, from years ago. You pinch the bridge of your nose and breathe.

“You alright?”

“Think I’m getting a headache.”

Guilt flares when John tosses his cigar, turns the radio off, and slides a comforting hand over your thigh. Why his affection is offered to you, of all people, a liar, you don’t know. Certainly don’t deserve it.

For the remainder of the drive to the library, John keeps his hand on you and his mouth shut. Only letting go to park the truck.

“I’ll let you get your books. Gonna return a missed call.” John leans against the tailgate and nods at the entrance, dismissing you with a playful pat to your ass.

Your face burns all the way to the doors.

“Back so soon?” The librarian asks with a big smile. “Already finished with your selection?”

“I’m finished with two, yes, but I was actually wondering if…”

“If I have the book on hold courtesy of Mr. Graves? I was wondering when you’d come in for it.”

>> F741 >> hold

Phil. Your stomach falls like a torn, wet paper bag. “Yes.”

You absolutely cannot tell John about the text—or this—now.

“Come with me.” She crooks a finger over her shoulder as she meanders toward the circulation desk. “He picked a good one. Locally authored. However, although we classify it as nonfiction and shelve it with our regional materials, it’s an anthology of transcribed oral histories and diaries from mining camps, so take it with a grain of salt.”

Your vision swims as you process. “Really? That’s good to know.”

Jeanne retrieves the hold and it is thinner than you expected, wrapped in a worn, brown cloth cover. Veins of Blood and Metal: Mining the Silver Valley. Grim yet hokey, just like the man who picked it.

“Would you like a reading room?”

Your eyes snap up. “Can’t I check it out?”

“Oh, no. We don’t check materials from the local collection out.”

“Could you make an exception? I’m in Grouse Bay and I don’t have a car of my own, and I hate to be a burden on my…” Several terms collide and tangle like a rat king. “To my boyfriend. I promise I’ll take care of it. I don’t dog ear or annotate. I won’t even keep a glass of water near—”

Jeanne’s face softens. She pats your hand, bracelets jingling. “Sweetie, it’s alright. I’ll bend the policy. You seem like a good kid.”

If only you knew.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Just promise to take good care of it. It’s already a little damaged.”

“Yes, ma’am. And, uh, do you happen to know why Mr. Graves left this for me? Did he say anything?”

She puckers her lips in thought. “I believe he said that you would find it ‘enlightening’.”

Your fingers itch. You’re tempted to call, tired of his enigmatic nonsense, just to demand why he bothered masking his number if only to leave his name. If this is his way of operating, it eases your worry over his capabilities as a fed.

“Right. Thanks, Jeanne.”

You stow the book from Phil in your bag and meet John outside as he hangs up.

“Ready to go, darl?” He asks with a strained smile.

“Yes. Everything alright?”

“Right as rain. Need to make a couple of stops while we’re in town.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask about the library, but he’s unusually reticent again. After you stop at the depot and an outdoor supply shop, it’s back to Grouse. He grips the wheel tight and gazes at the road with a flat, distant focus. It’s impossible that he knows, but doubt sticks between your ribs.

Dust seeps in.

You remember how it felt with Dusty, that weight in the air, thick with the silence he would settle into for days. You’d wait, always, for some change in his facial expressions and the tension in his body, but somehow, it never felt like you were meant to know. It afflicted you with the need to both placate and pry.

You lick your lips and look at him through the rearview. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Nothing for you to worry about. Just a minor problem.”

The question rises in your throat, uninvited, like it’s pushing its way out despite the warning signs flashing. Curiosity runs headlong into self-preservation and makes it impossible not to ask. It’s not as if it’s outside the realm of possibility.

Your hand finds his knee in a bid to soften it.

“Is it at all related to those boys? To…Phil?”

His attention flickers to meet yours in the mirror, a slight furrow to his brow. You wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are—whether asking was a mistake. A millisecond later, he huffs and grins, shaking his head.

“Still worried about him? Oh, sweetheart. Didn’t I tell you? Must’ve forgotten, what with all the running around I’ve had to do.”

“Tell me what?”

“I had my own tête-à-tête with Mr. Graves. Answered his questions and sent him on his way. Said he’s going to Kellogg to continue his little investigation.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” You swiftly assure, despite that revelation piling atop all your questions. “I was worried. He seemed dogged.”

A hand drops from the wheel to cover yours. “Not our problem anymore.”

Despite the strange book in the bag between your feet, despite Phil Graves’s odd behavior—you settle into a calm, a boat gliding into port to avoid a storm. John’s happy. You’re happy. The book can wait, especially after he sweet talks you into staying the night at his place for the first time.

On the drive, you talk about nothing, mostly. The trees, the towns, how the road is barely wide enough for two cars. John teases you for holding onto the handle at every bend, and you laugh in your defense. There’s a gentle warmth, easy and growing familiar. It’s more organic, more natural, than what you had before.

You’re still giggling when he pulls around back. You hop out of the truck and pause, spotting a large patch of blackened, dead grass. The gears turn in your head until they click into place.

“Where’s the hutch? The rabbits?”

You nearly walk into him with his abrupt stop. John’s face twists, and he sighs and rakes a hand down his face, then coaxes you into his arms. “This week put me through the wringer. Yet another thing I neglected to mention…It’s terrible, sweetheart. A rabbit got sick. It was infectious. Had to do the humane thing. Then I burned the carcasses and the hutch to avoid it spreadin’ to anything else.”

John’s grip shifts to your waist to lead you inside, but your gaze returns to the charred earth, and you stumble at sulfur wafting past your nose, brief and sudden but unmistakable. It plucks at your memory like a harp playing a discordant note.

His lips find your temple, his voice in your ear. “I’ll have fresh does, soon.”

#the warren #price x reader #john price x reader #price x f!reader #john price x f!reader

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purplecoffee13 · 2 days ago

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Nemesis with Benefits - Part 6

Summary: “Three weeks have passed, and the inevitable truth leads to some harsh conversations…”

Wc: 3.3k

Tropes: enemies-to-lovers

Warnings: ANGST big time, fighting, crying (my heart hurts)

A/N: hello… I finally finished the newest chapter and I immediately wanted to get it out so you can all read it. I am incredibly sorry that it took so long, and I am also sorry for the amount of sadness in this chapter… but it had to happen🥲

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It's been three weeks since you last saw Harry, and you feel terrible.

About what exactly? You're not sure. Dylan's sudden appearance. Harry just— walking out. What Harry and Dylan did to you. What you have been doing with Harry...

It seems that, just as the dust had started to settle, this tornado entirely threw you for a loop again. Finally getting to terms with your feelings and accepting the idea of a friendship with Harry, it all came crashing down the moment you spotted Dylan at that pool table.

You'd spent hours furiously scribbling in your notebook to understand the depths of this tricky situation you'd managed to work yourself into, but you haven't found a logical solution or explanation for any of it.

Only that Dylan is a total dick, that is.

You had to admit that you needed some time to come down from the shock and bottled up feelings that had exploded right in front of your face. But by the end of the week, you were ready to find Harry and talk about this. What that conversation would lead to, you had no idea, but speaking to him was vital.

And apparently impossible.

He wouldn’t respond to your texts, nor your calls when you eventually decided to give calling him a try. When you'd finally mustered up the courage to sneakily ask Benjamin about Harry's whereabouts, you were smacked in the face with the news that Harry had left.

He'd gone home to England to visit his family, Benjamin said. When you'd asked whether it had to do anything with the Dylan fiasco, Benjamin had shrugged and said that Harry did visit his family every single year. But he also mentioned he went a bit earlier than planned, so he thought the other night might have had a little bit to do with it.

Planned or not planned, it left you with a lot of confusion and doubt for the next two weeks, one of which you spent in your own hometown, trying to enjoy spring break as much as you could with a broken heart and an occupied mind.

You hadn't returned to your college town yet when Harry finally did, and you were bummed about not being able to talk to him. Rebecca and Benjamin were going to a party Harry was throwing so you guessed you'd hear about his state when you got back.

It would've be a bit embarrassing to admit, but it's one of the reasons you caught an earlier train this morning. You texted Rebecca, telling her you’d back sooner than planned. but you hadn't heard from her so far. While you'd thought it was a little weird, you figured you'd see her this evening anyway.

You didn't expect her to be at your front door.

A smile creeps onto your face as you neared her, leaving your luggage to the side as you open your arms for a hug, but Rebecca just stands there, arms crossed. Quirking up a brow, you ask:

"Hey, are you okay?"

A few seconds pass before she responds.

"We need to talk."

Absolute, utter dread fills your entire body as you nod, grabbing your suitcase. "What is it about? Do you want to go upstairs?"

Rebecca doesn't answer your question, she only nods in response to your second. You are quick to unlock my door and walk towards my apartment with her. The elevator ride is silent and excruciating, and when you've finally entered your living room, you're quick to ask away.

"Okay, what's going on?" Your question sounds almost irritated, which in hindsight doesn't seem very smart because it only seems to tick Rebecca off. What is going on with her?

"Harry threw a little get together yesterday," Your friend sighs, crossing her arms. "and I couldn't help but notice the familiarity of his home address when he sent it to us."

Your face pales. Oh my god, you are going to throw up. This cannot possibly be happening right now. Rebecca notices your instant change in the demeanor, her own growing angry. You take a few steps back and sit down on the couch.

"You slept with him, after what he did to you?! How could you do that?!"

You are at a loss of words, despite having thought about how you were going to break this news to her one day. "I— I don't know, I don't know..."

"What do you mean you don't know? You slept with the guy your boyfriend cheated on you with! God, have you no self-respect?!"

Her words hit you like a slap in the face, and as the tears roll down your cheeks, you begin to shake your head.

"Rebecca— I..."

"No, listen, Y/N. For months, Benjamin and I have been walking on eggshells, trying so hard to make sure you're comfortable. Benjamin even punched Harry, for Christ's sake. Do you even know that?"

You nod slowly, the guilt that has been tightening around your throat settling in your stomach as well.

"I'm sorry..." You peep, looking down at the floor. Meeting Rebecca's eyes is too terrifying at the moment. You can't handle that right now.

"God... why him? You don't even like him." Rebecca goes on, and the tears prickling in your eyes turn into full blown sobs as soon as the words have left her mouth. With your hands buried in your face, you don't see your friend sitting next to you, but you feel her rubbing your back.

"Shit... you like him, don't you?" She concludes, and your crying only increases at hearing that confession fall from another person's lips. This is the most complicated thing you have ever experienced. It takes a minute or so to finally manage to control your tears, and have calmed down enough to respond.

"I don't know how this happened." You confess between your sobs. "I didn't— I wasn't supposed to!"

"Hey, calm down." Rebecca pulls you closer to her, and you continue crying in her lap. "Everyone has at least one person they weren't— supposed to sleep with."

You pull yourself up, wiping away your tears as you shake your head. "I meant, I wasn't supposed to care about him. Sleeping with him was a choice I made, and I don't regret it because it was a distraction, and it worked. But it only worked because I hated him. I wasn't supposed to start... caring."

"Sweets, being that intimate with someone will leave you with no other option than to care for them, at least at some point." Rebecca reminds you. Your gaze is fixated on the ground, all these truths flying through your scrambled mind. You let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry." You finally say, and another tear slips down your cheek as Rebecca strokes your hair.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made that comment about self worth, that was uncalled for, and mean. I was just angry, but that's no excuse."

You look at your friend, whose eyes also seem to be blurry, and conjure a faint smile. "You're forgiven."

Rebecca pulls you into a tight hug, and it takes her a full minute before you finally get her to agree to let go. When she does, she immediately stands up and grabs a glass of water for the both of you while you wipe your smudged mascara away with a tissue.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" She asks when she sits down, handing you the glass. You shrug before taking a large gulp of the water before setting it back on the table.

"I have no idea."

Rebecca leans back into the couch, eyeing you for a couple of seconds before speaking up. "Can I be really honest here?"

You're careful to look your friend in the eyes, her bluntness scaring you sometimes, but you nod anyway.

"I think you two are a pretty good match— you know, if you wouldn't count all the shit that happened of course. I was actually surprised when you went out with Dylan instead of Harry in the beginning. I thought Harry was a much better fit for you.” She tells you, and your brow quirks up at her words. You didn't expect her to go down this route. “You're just... compatible, you know? Plus, I was convinced he liked you."

"Rebecca, he hated me from the start." You scoff, but she shakes her head intently.

"No I know, but I swear, he asked about you before that party where you met him and Dylan. I thought he was interested in you."

By now, you have your hands buried in your hair as you listen to all this new information that you are being fed by your friend. This is way too confusing and it's making your headache even worse.

"But then you told me he was being rude, so I just brushed it off as a lapse of judgment from my side. Of course now we know he was acting like an asshole to you because of Dylan—which I still think is a dick move, by the way." Rebecca rants on. The weight on your chest that had seemed to have subsided for a minute has grown in size again.

"My point is, your relationship with Harry has been a wreck from the start, and the main cause for that is Dylan. So if you can't get over the Dylan situation, it's probably going to be impossible to ever build a lasting relationship with Harry."

Rebecca's words ring in your ears. It's a revelation that has been looming in your mind for a bit now. There was a part of you that knew this was an extremely complicated situation and therefore didn't want to tackle it, as a possible solution seemed to be non-existent. You've hit a wall in your relationship—if it even can be called that—with Harry, and if you really want to move forward, you'll have to climb over that wall and hope Harry will take your hand and come along.

You sigh, your tired eyes meeting Rebecca's. "You're right."

************************************************

It's been about an hour since Rebecca left and you've been pacing your living room ever since, devising a plan on how to talk to Harry. What to say to him, how to say it, and with what outcome in mind.

A knock on the door relieves your from your taunting thoughts for a moment, but opening your door throws you for an entirely different loop as you find Harry standing across from you.

He looks worn out. The dark circles under his eyes aren't extremely prominent but the sole fact that they're there tells you enough. He also appears to be in gym clothes, which makes you wonder whether this trip to your apartment was planned or not.

"Hey." He croaks out, his eyes flicking up and down your face and body, calculating any reaction that might come from you.

"Hi." You respond breathlessly. Neither of you say another word—you spend most of the silent minute staring at him—until Harry finally clears his throat.

"Can I— uh..." his finger points towards your living room, and before you know it, you step aside. He enters your apartment, following you as you head for your couch.

Another dreadful silence follows as the both of you sit next to each other, waiting for the other one to break first. It's excruciating and it feels like it goes on forever. You don't realize you're picking at your nail beds until Harry's voice takes you out of your dissociative trance.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" You scan his face, squinting your eyes a bit. There is something unsettling about his demeanor. It's so passive, at least it seems.

"For just leaving like that." He meets your eyes, and you notice the guilt displayed in them. Not knowing what to say, you refrain from answering as you think of everything that has happened. When you finally do open your mouth, Harry's focus on you is so intense that it makes you a bit nervous, the weight of your words becoming much heavier now that you know Harry will be hanging onto your every single one.

"You really hated me, you know. And it wasn't just because of Dylan. You despised me, always did, and I never understood why."

You watch as his eyes turn glassy and he shakes his head, softly whispering 'no' over and over again. Your brows crease at his attempt at—what seems to you—denial. He can't oppose that he hated you. He has literally said it multiple times.

"Don't pretend that you didn't Harry, I know you did."

"No, that's not—" he protests.

"Then what is it?” The questions falls off your tongue in a hurry, the frustration that has been bottled up inside of you slowly beginning to unleash. "The other night, right before spring break, I really thought we were on our way to becoming friends. I felt like it was actually possible. And then you just— left. One glimpse of him and you were gone.”

You take a deep breath before continuing. “It's been eating at me for the past three weeks that you just walked out and began ignoring me. So please, Harry, clarify it for me because I don’t understand any of this.”

Harry hangs his head and sighs. “It's complicated. And stupid... and probably doesn't make any sense."

"Then make sense of it." You command, leaning forward so he is forced to meet your eyes. He holds your gaze for a few seconds, then nods, a small frown on his face as he figures out what he wants to say. You try not to hold your breath as you wait for him to start, but you find yourself doing it anyway as soon as he starts speaking.

"I, uh— I'd liked Dylan for quite some time, and he knew that. He led me on for a long time, and I was trying to get over him, but it just felt like it was impossible, you know?" He explains, picking at the skin on his fingers out of nervous habit. You hum, telling him you understand without actually interrupting him. He continues.

"So, one day I was walking out of class and I ran into Rebecca. She was with you and some other girls, and you were all waiting for her while she was talking to me. I remember seeing you, and I thought you were very pretty, which was special to me because I hadn't felt so intrigued by someone in a long time."

Your heartbeat becomes more prominent, and suddenly you can feel it beating loudly as he speaks. You fiddle with your sweaty hands. He was intrigued by you? The nerves swerve through your stomach, not being able to make sense of what Harry is saying just yet. It’s contradicting everything you’ve known about Harry’s feelings towards you since you met him. But Rebecca’s words hang in the back of your head, and there is a wave of anticipation that almost overwhelms you: the anticipation that Rebecca might be right. Harry clears his throat.

“So anyways, I asked Rebecca about you and she told me you'd come to the party. Later, I was kind of— stalking you on Instagram, and Dylan saw. He teased me about it. Suddenly he started to give me loads of attention again. And I thought maybe he was jealous, and he had realized that he liked me, and this was finally the moment that it would all work out.” He says with a certain bitterness, not necessarily aimed at anyone but himself. As if he is mad at himself for those past rose-tinted thoughts he had regarding Dylan. “But then he got together with you at the party a couple days late, and I was just... so angry."

Harry’s eyes become glassy, and you feel your heart crack. After your break-up with Dylan it became clear how much effect he had on Harry. Now knowing the history, the constant push and pull, you don’t find it weird. Harry had allowed him inside his heart time and time again, all the while Dylan would just figure out how to play at his heartstrings. Just enough to keep him coming back everything single time, hoping something had changed.

“It felt like he wasn't allowing me to get over him. I had finally met someone who made me realize that maybe the first stages of like— love and dating shouldn't feel like your heart is constantly being ripped from your chest. That it could be innocent and fun. And it felt as if he was mocking me for it, by going after that hope and taking it away.”

He looks at you, and you give him a weak, sympathetic smile, swallowing away the physical pain you get from hearing about Harry’s emotional pain. Caring so deeply can be the most euphoric thing, but it’ll come back to bite you in the ass when the person you care about is hurting. You realize then, in that moment, how thin the line between a blessing and a curse is.

But when your hand finds his and you intertwine your fingers, you figure it’s more of a blessing anyway.

“And I just— I don't want to spin it as if you were a piece of meat, because Dylan cared about you. I saw that, and I hated it because I used to wish it was me. It made me be a dick to you, and I’m really fucking sorry about that, because you didn’t deserve that at all. If I could take all of that back then I would.”

He sighs as soon as all the ramblings of words have left his mouth, and you feel the weight of that sigh. His body tells you it as well: he’s relieved. Initially, you find yourself at a loss of words, and the only thing that your mind can generate as a response escapes before you can stop yourself.

“Well, if you take it all back then we bever would’ve have had such mind-blowing sex, right?” You blurt out, and Harry chuckles at your stupid joke. You laugh along as you try to scramble together a real answer, stroking his hand with your thumb.

“I’m sorry Dylan used you like that, I can only imagine how frustrating that is. And while I agree you should’ve never been so grumpy to me, I can’t say that I haven’t acted rude out of jealousy before.” You say earnestly, the thought of that night at the bar popping inside your head. You weren’t exactly nice to that girl Harry was talking to either. In fact, you didn’t acknowledge her at all.

“Rebecca said we need to get over the Dylan situation if we ever want to build any sort of relationship whatsoever. We need to forgive each other and move past it, otherwise we can never be— friends.” Your cheeks heat up at your quick save. It’s quiet between the two of you, but his grip on your hand doesn’t loosen the slightest bit. Harry is staring at his lap, making it difficult for you to read what he’s thinking. He raises his head to meet your eyes, and when you are met with the sight of a tear rolling down his cheek, your own vision blurs instantly.

"How can I forgive you for something you never did?"

The hopelessness of his question smashes your heart into a thousand pieces. You are quite sure you physically hear it crack. The broken pieces pierce into every part of your body, including your throat, that feels too heavy as you gather strength to answer him. Your breath hitches the first time you try to get some words out and fail, so your voice wavers when you manage to speak.

“I don’t know...”

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