#me clenching my fist: its fine its fine i don’t even want to do it that badly (im lying)

[ofmermaidstories]

i’ve mentioned it a couple of times before, but my dream dream project would be to write a My Hero/Attack on Titan AU. No reader-insert, no real shipping. Just the BNHA cast, jettisoning themselves towards an ending that leaves them scattered—or dead. i just!!!!! i want to sink my teeth into that whole universe. just imagine it: what it must feel like to swing—to fly—through tall, ancient trees, your friends cutting through the sunlight and sending it flickering over you as they holler and whoop at each other. sitting at a rough-hewn table, with a heavy, tarnished plate. eating what—potatoes? bread? greens to further a stew as someone further down the bench moans about missing meat. the bruising the straps from the ODEM gear must leave—the way it must pinch your shoulders. their scout jackets—the canvas they’re made from. is it waxed to make it more weather proof? the difference between thundering out into a rolling plane, hyperaware of anything in the distance that moves or lurches forward vs. being in the inner walls, amid the bustle of people who can laugh easily, who feel safe and protected by walls that only allow you the sky above, the clouds. running along a fucking—tiled rooftop!!! a rooftop on a slant, like, are their boots light enough to feel the crack of a tile underneath them, when your weight shifts before you can leap off again? i just—i want to write it. all of it. the blood and the way someone’s spine snaps and growing up in a wave of refugees, in a city that actively resents you. what does it mean to like—choose to serve your people, when you go through that? AoT goes on and on about freedom freedom freedom but like, what does that mean? if you throw a character like Deku into that—a character who’s built on like, pushing through the worst, on helping others no matter what, then like… how does that change him? Does it change him? What does it take to change him? What is freedom to a boy like Deku? in some ways i think he’s perfect for the setting—he seems like he asks himself one hundred thousand questions and I think a combination of that nature and his impulse to help people would spill over into leading him into something foolhardy, like joining the scouts.

it’d be an ambitious project and i am not stupid enough to take it on without clearing the deck of all my other WIPs first (the Big 3 trilogy included) but—every now and then i like to revisit the idea. move characters around, reposition them against the sky or the sea or the red heat of the destruction of the world. just… having a lil think.

[lila-lou]

✨Peanut✨

Summary: Stuck in a safe house with Soldier Boy is a test of patience—and nerves. He’s sharp-tongued, cocky, and impossible to ignore, pushing your boundaries just to see you flinch. You try to keep your distance, but he has a way of getting under your skin. You’re supposed to keep him in check, but the real challenge might be keeping yourself together.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Nickname, Shy!Reader, MENTION!Reader was touched without consent, Ben being as cocky as ever, some kind of fluff i guess

Word Count: 10523 (long ass shit here, lol)

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The room felt heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to make the next move. Soldier Boy—Ben, as Butcher had instructed you to call him—sat at the battered wooden table in the middle of the safe house. He was grinding pills into powder with the flat of his knife, muttering to himself, the motion aggressive and precise. Every scrape of the blade against the wood sent shivers down your spine.

You kept your eyes fixed on the television, not really watching whatever rerun was playing. It didn’t matter. Nothing could drown out the weight of his presence. The way he dominated the space even when he wasn’t speaking. Even when he wasn’t looking at you.

You didn’t know why he tolerated you. Out of all the people who’d tried to babysit him since Butcher hauled him out of whatever Russian nightmare he’d been buried in, you were the only one still standing. Maybe it was because you didn’t push him. Or maybe it was because you were too afraid to even try.

Two years ago, your fear of supes had been planted like a landmine in your chest. One night, one supe, one scar across your soul. That was all it took to change you forever. Now, being in the same room as one, especially him, felt like walking barefoot through a minefield. One wrong step, and everything could go to hell. Literally, in his case.

Ben scooped the powder into a neat little line, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “You don’t have to sit there like a deer in headlights, you know”, he drawled, not looking up. His voice was gravelly, tinged with a roughness that made you want to shrink further into the couch. “Not gonna bite”.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of the couch cushion. “I’m fine here”, you said quickly, your voice thin and brittle.

“Sure you are”. He leaned back in his chair, his shirt unbuttoned enough to show a glimpse of the skin of his chest. That chest. The one that could, and had, turned entire blocks into ash. He tapped his nose twice before snorting the line with practiced ease, sighing as he leaned back again. “You’re terrible at pretending, you know that?”.

Your breath hitched, and you cursed yourself for it. He noticed everything. “Pretending what?”, you muttered, eyes glued to the TV screen.

“That you’re not scared shitless of me”, he said, his tone almost amused now. “It’s cute. Kind of pathetic, but cute”.

Your stomach twisted. The urge to snap back at him rose like bile, but you shoved it down. Provoking him was the last thing you wanted to do. Instead, you focused on keeping your voice steady. “I’m not scared of you”.

Ben laughed—deep, low, and sharp enough to make you flinch. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart”.

You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to keep your breathing even. This was your job. This was what Butcher had asked of you. Watch over him, keep him in line, don’t let him blow anything up. Easier said than done when every fiber of your being was screaming to get the hell out of there.

Ben finally looked at you, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you”. His tone softened—just barely—but it still sent a shiver down your spine. “Not unless you give me a reason to”.

That didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but you nodded anyway, not trusting yourself to speak.

He reached for another pill, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You know”, he said, his voice quieter now, “it’s exhausting, being treated like a goddamn bomb all the time”.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze fixed on the table as he rolled the pill between his fingers. For a moment, he almost seemed… human. Vulnerable.

But you didn’t know what to say. Didn’t trust yourself to say anything. So you just stayed where you were, curled up on the couch, watching him out of the corner of your eye and praying you wouldn’t be the one to set him off.

Ben tossed the pill back, swallowing it dry like it was nothing before reaching for the whiskey bottle on the table. He took a swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood up. For one fleeting second, you thought he might leave the room, give you some space to breathe. But no—he grabbed a bag of popcorn from the counter, ripped it open with his teeth, and made his way to the couch.

You tensed immediately. There were at least three other places he could sit, but no, he dropped himself right beside you. Not just close—touching. His thigh pressed firmly against yours, the heat of him seeping through the fabric of your jeans like a live wire.

Your body locked up, your heart hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. If he noticed your discomfort—and of course, he did—he didn’t let on. He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, his eyes flicking toward the TV screen before turning to you.

“Whatcha watching?”, he asked casually, his voice a little softer now but still holding that rough, unshakable edge.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… whatever was on”.

He snorted. “Riveting choice”. Another handful of popcorn disappeared into his mouth, and he leaned back, spreading out like he owned the place. Which, let’s face it, he kind of did. Every room he entered felt like it bent to him, like the walls themselves were trying to make room for him and his ego.

As the minutes dragged on, he kept up the small talk. About the shitty popcorn, the weather, the ancient couch springs that squeaked every time one of you shifted. His tone was light, conversational, but his eyes… his eyes were anything but.

He wasn’t looking at the TV anymore. He was watching you. Really watching you. The way your shoulders hunched in on themselves like you were trying to make yourself smaller. The way your hands fidgeted with the hem of your hoodie. The way your legs were pressed tightly together, like you were trying to disappear into the cushions.

“You’re tiny”, he said abruptly, almost thoughtfully, his gaze dragging up and down your frame. “Like, seriously. How are you even a person? You’re what, a buck twenty soaking wet?”.

You stiffened, your face flushing. “I’m… normal-sized”, you mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, low and gravelly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Normal? Sweetheart, if I even looked at you wrong, you’d probably snap in half”.

Your stomach churned at the words, at the casual way he said them. Like it wasn’t a threat, just a fact. And maybe it was. He wasn’t wrong—he could break you without even trying. Supe or not, he was built like a goddamn tank, and you… well, you weren’t.

His gaze lingered on you, sharp and appraising, like he was trying to figure you out. “What’re you so scared of, huh?”, he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “You think I’m gonna hurt you?”.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The lump in your throat was too big, your fear too loud.

“Relax, doll”, he said, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “If I wanted to crush you, I wouldn’t need to waste my time sitting here talking to you, now would I?”.

That didn’t make you feel any better. In fact, it made your skin crawl. But you nodded anyway, because what else could you do?

Ben smirked as he leaned back, stretching his arm casually over the back of the couch. He popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing slowly, his eyes never leaving you.

“So”, he drawled, cocking an eyebrow. “Got a boyfriend, Peanut?”.

The word caught you off guard, and you glanced at him sharply, your confusion momentarily outweighing your fear. “P-Peanut?”, you stammered, the nickname so unexpected it almost made you forget how close he was.

He grinned, his teeth flashing white against his scruffy beard. “Yeah, Peanut. You’re tiny, right? Probably weigh, what, eighty-five? Ninety pounds tops? I could pick you up with one hand, and you’d barely be a snack”. He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, like he found the whole thing hilarious. “Peanut fits”.

Your face burned with embarrassment, but you didn’t say anything. What could you say? He wasn’t exactly wrong, but hearing it said out loud—especially by him—made you feel smaller than ever. You tucked your legs up under you, trying to create some kind of barrier between his imposing presence and your body.

“C’mon”, he said, his voice lighter now, teasing almost. “You seriously don’t have some guy waiting around for you? Someone to take care of you? Feels like you’d need a bodyguard just to make it through the grocery store”.

You shook your head, your voice barely audible. “No boyfriend”.

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. “Huh. Surprising. A thing like you? I’d think guys would be lining up”.

His words weren’t comforting. They weren’t meant to be. They carried an undertone that made your stomach twist, a reminder of how easily he could take you if he wanted to. You shifted uncomfortably, pulling your hoodie tighter around yourself like it could somehow shield you from the heat of his gaze.

“What’s the matter, Peanut?”, he asked. “I’m just making conversation. You don’t have to look so freaked out all the time”.

“I’m not freaked out”, you lied, your voice trembling just enough to betray you.

He snorted, clearly not buying it. “Sure you’re not”. He leaned forward suddenly, resting his elbows on his knees, bringing himself closer to you. The smell of whiskey and faint cigar smoke clung to him, mingling with something sharper, something distinctly him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. Told you already, didn’t I?”.

You nodded again, but the tension in your body didn’t ease. If anything, it grew worse as his eyes traveled over you again, lingering in ways that made you want to sink into the couch and disappear.

“Man”, he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re wound up tighter than a fucking spring”. He reached for the popcorn bag again, the casual motion a stark contrast to the intensity of his words. “I don’t know what the hell Butcher was thinking, sticking me with you. You’re not exactly intimidating”.

You bristled at that, a tiny flicker of indignation breaking through your fear. “I wasn’t supposed to intimidate you”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just… here to keep an eye on you”.

He laughed—loud and abrupt, the sound startling in the otherwise quiet room. “You’re supposed to keep an eye on me?”. He leaned back again, throwing one arm across the back of the couch again and grinning down at you like he’d just heard the best joke of his life. “Fuck. That’s rich”.

You didn’t respond, biting your lip to keep the words locked in. You couldn’t afford to snap, couldn’t afford to give him a reason to escalate. Not with how close he was. Not with how easily he could overpower you.

Ben’s laugh faded into a low hum, almost as if he were talking to himself, but the words were loud enough to reach you. “You know”, he muttered, swirling the last of the whiskey in the bottle before setting it on the floor, “I could help you relax. You’re all wound up like a little bird that flew into the wrong fucking cage”.

The comment made your stomach tighten, your pulse spiking as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze wasn’t on the TV. It wasn’t even on the popcorn anymore. It was on you. Slowly, deliberately, like he was working through some kind of internal checklist, his eyes dragged from your face, to your neck, to the way your hoodie hugged your body.

“Yeah”, he said, his voice dropping lower, rougher.

“I’d probably crush you. Tiny little thing like you. But…”. He leaned his head back against the couch, as though considering something deeply. “I could figure it out. Work on my self-restraint”. He exhaled sharply through his nose, almost like a laugh, but it didn’t carry any humor. “Not sure you’d survive, though”.

Your throat went dry, and your mind raced for something—anything—to say to steer the conversation somewhere less terrifying. But the words wouldn’t come. It was like your brain had shut down entirely, overwhelmed by the weight of his presence and the dark, unsettling undertone to his words.

“I mean, shit”, he went on, almost lazily, like he was just idly musing. “It’d be a tight fit, no doubt about that. But I’d manage”. He turned his head toward you, one eyebrow quirking as though he was waiting for some kind of reaction. “What d’you think, Peanut? Think you could handle me?”.

Your heart felt like it might explode. You shifted slightly, trying to put even an inch of space between you, but the couch offered no escape. He noticed, of course he noticed, and the smirk on his face only widened.

“Relax”, he said again, though this time it sounded more like a command than a suggestion. “I’m just messing with you”. He leaned back again, popping another piece of popcorn into his mouth like the last thirty seconds hadn’t just happened.

But the tension in the air didn’t dissipate. His words lingered, sinking into your mind like oil, staining everything. You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too loudly, your entire body coiled as tightly as a spring.

Ben glanced at you again, his expression unreadable now, the grin gone. “You really gotta lighten up, Peanut”, he said, almost absently. “You’re making me feel like a fucking monster”.

You wanted to tell him he wasn’t making it easy. That his very presence was suffocating. That every word out of his mouth only fed the gnawing pit of fear in your stomach. But you couldn’t. So you stayed silent, staring at the TV and praying that he’d get bored soon. That the night would end without him pushing any further.

Ben shifted slightly on the couch, the springs groaning under his weight. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as if lost in thought, but you could feel his attention still anchored on you, heavy and unrelenting.

“You know”, he started, his voice low and casual, “I heard Butcher and that cum-guzzler talking about you”. He popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing slowly as though giving himself time to savor the words that would follow. “Something about why you’re so jumpy around supes”.

Your heart clenched, and you went rigid. You hadn’t realized Butcher had told him—why would he? What purpose would it serve, giving Soldier Boy ammunition? You glanced at him sharply, trying to gauge his intentions, but his expression was frustratingly neutral, save for the slight quirk of a smirk playing on his lips.

He chuckled, low and gravelly, shaking his head. “Can’t say I blame you”, he continued. “Sounds like you had a real shitty time of it. Some asshole supe gets a little too handsy, decides he’s owed something just because he’s got powers. That about right?”.

The knot in your stomach tightened, but you didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat felt like it was closing, the weight of his words pulling every horrible memory to the surface.

Ben didn’t seem to need a response. He let out a long breath, his smirk fading as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “Here’s the thing, Peanut”, he said, his tone quieter now, almost contemplative. “Guys like that… they give the rest of us a bad name. Not that I give a shit about my reputation, but, you know, principle and all that”.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why… why are you bringing this up?”.

He shrugged, the motion casual, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed him. “Just thinking out loud. If that’s the only experience you’ve got with supes… well, no wonder you’re scared shitless. That’s the memory you’re stuck with”. His gaze slid to you, sharp and probing. “But maybe I could fix that”.

“Fix it?”, you echoed, your voice trembling. “What… what does that mean?”.

He smirked again, leaning back and stretching his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing just a hair’s breadth away from your shoulder. “I’m just saying”, he drawled, “maybe if you had a different kind of experience, you wouldn’t be so fucking scared all the time. Replace that shitty memory with a fucking awesome one”.

The implication in his words was crystal clear, and your stomach churned violently. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your hoodie, your nails digging into your palms. “That’s not…”. You trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not how it works”.

He tilted his head, studying you with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “You sure about that? Sometimes all it takes is one good memory to wipe out the bad. One moment to make you forget the rest of the bullshit”.

You shook your head, your pulse hammering in your ears. “I don’t think—”.

“Calm down, Peanut”, he interrupted, his voice dropping into that low, commanding tone again. “I’m not saying I’d do anything. Unless, you know, you wanted me to”.

Your breath hitched, and you pressed yourself further into the couch, as if the cushions could somehow swallow you whole. His gaze was piercing, unrelenting, and you could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, suffocating.

“But hey”, he continued after a moment, his tone lightening again as he grabbed another handful of popcorn. “It’s your call. I’m just saying… I could make it worth your while”.

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. Your mind was racing, your body frozen in place.

The safe house was quiet except for the distant hum of the water running in the bathroom. Ben was in the shower, and you were stuck on the couch, your nerves coiled tighter than ever. It had been weeks since that first night, weeks of this strange, unbearable dance between the two of you. He hadn’t pushed things too far, but he hadn’t stopped either. The teasing, the lingering touches, the weight of his gaze—it was constant, suffocating, impossible to ignore.

And now, as you sat there waiting for him, you hated yourself for the stupid summer dress you’d chosen to wear. It was hot, unbearably so, and the safe house didn’t have air conditioning. The dress had seemed like a practical choice at the time—lightweight, easy to move in—but now it felt like a mistake. The fabric clung to your skin and you couldn’t help but feel exposed. Vulnerable.

You shifted uncomfortably, pulling the dress down as far as it would go and wrapping your arms around yourself. It didn’t help. The room felt stifling, and the faint sound of the shower only added to the tension. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering, couldn’t stop the little voice whispering in the back of your head: What’s he going to say this time? What’s he going to do?

The shower shut off, and your breath caught. You stared at the TV, not really seeing it, your heart pounding as you heard the sound of the bathroom door creaking open.

Moments later, Ben emerged, a towel slung low around his hips and his hair damp, water droplets trailing down his chest. He was a vision of raw power and confidence, and he knew it. The smirk tugging at his lips told you as much.

“Hey, Peanut”, he said casually, like this was the most normal thing in the world. He grabbed a second towel and ran it through his hair, his muscles flexing with the motion. “Didn’t think I’d keep you waiting, did you?”.

You swallowed hard, your eyes darting back to the TV. “I wasn’t—”, you started, but your voice faltered. “I mean, I’m fine”.

“Sure you are”, he said, chuckling under his breath. He crossed the room, tossing the towel onto a chair as he made his way to the couch. You felt his presence before you saw him, the heat of him, the sheer weight of him, as he sat down beside you. Close. Too close. Again.

His eyes flicked to your dress, lingering for just a moment before he leaned back, draping his arm over the back of the couch. “Nice dress”, he commented, his tone light but his gaze sharp. “Didn’t know we were getting all dressed up today”.

Your face burned, and you tugged at the hem again, wishing it were longer. “It’s just… it’s hot”, you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

“That it is”, he agreed, his smirk widening. “But you didn’t have to go all out for me, Peanut. A little effort goes a long way, though, so… thanks”.

You clenched your jaw, your hands twisting the fabric of the dress in your lap. “I didn’t—”.

“I’m just messing with you. Don’t get so wound up”, his voice dropping into that familiar, teasing drawl.

You wanted to snap back, wanted to tell him to knock it off, but you couldn’t. You just sat there, frozen, your heart pounding as he shifted slightly closer, the edge of his thigh brushing against yours.

The problem wasn’t just that you were afraid of Ben anymore—though that fear was still there, lurking beneath every breath, every glance, every word. The problem was that, over the past few weeks, something else had crept in, something worse.

Attraction.

You hated yourself for it. Hated the way your pulse quickened when he smirked at you, the way your thoughts lingered on his voice, deep and rough like gravel underfoot. And now, as you sat beside him, that stupid towel slung so dangerously low on his hips, it was taking everything you had to keep your eyes on the TV.

But you failed. Of course, you did. Your gaze flicked toward him out of the corner of your eye, drawn like a moth to a flame. The towel clung to his hips precariously, the line of dark hair below his navel trailing downward, disappearing beneath the fabric. And lower—your breath hitched—the outline of him was visible, faint but undeniable.

You quickly looked away, your cheeks burning, your heart hammering in your chest. What the hell is wrong with me? you thought, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it almost hurt. This was Soldier Boy. Ben. The same man who teased you relentlessly, who could crush you without a second thought. A damn supe. And yet…

“You’re quiet, Peanut”, he said suddenly, his voice breaking through your frantic thoughts. His tone was casual, but you knew better than to believe it wasn’t deliberate. He always knew how to needle you just enough to get under your skin. “I mean, you’re always quiet, but today? What’s the deal?”.

You didn’t respond, your throat too dry to form a coherent excuse. You tried to keep your eyes locked on the TV, pretending to focus on the images flickering across the screen. But you could feel him watching you, the heat of his gaze sliding over your profile, lingering far too long for comfort.

“C’mon”, he pressed, his voice dropping an octave, rich and deep enough to make your stomach do an unwelcome flip. “You’re the only action I’ve got in this shithole they’re hiding me in. Least you could do is talk to me. I’m bored as hell over here”.

Your hands twisted in your lap, gripping the fabric of your dress like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not with the way his words made your skin flush and your heart pound.

“I don’t know what to say”, you mumbled finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben leaned back against the couch, his towel shifting just slightly. “You don’t have to say much, Peanut”, he drawled, his smirk audible in his tone. “Just give me something. Anything. Hell, even a complaint about how much you hate being stuck with me. I know you’ve got those”.

You glanced at him for just a split second, and that was your mistake. He was sprawled out, all lazy confidence, the towel still clinging low on his hips, the light from the TV casting faint shadows over his chest. The sight made your stomach twist, and you quickly looked away again, your cheeks burning.

“I don’t hate you”, you blurted out, immediately regretting it.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Don’t you now?”. His smirk deepened, and he leaned in just slightly, the arm draped over the back of the couch brushing your shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me with the way you can’t even look at me half the time”.

You swallowed hard, your fingers knotting into the hem of your dress. “I just…”, you stammered, unsure how to explain without giving away too much. “You make me nervous”.

Ben tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost curious. “Nervous, huh?”, he repeated, his voice quieter now, like he was mulling over the word. “Why? You still think I’m gonna hurt you?”.

“No”, you said quickly, though the fear still lingered at the edges of your mind. “It’s not that”.

“Then what?”, he asked, his tone deceptively gentle, but his gaze was sharp, unrelenting. “What is it about me that’s got you so wound up?”.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Your silence only seemed to amuse him further. He let out a low chuckle, leaning back again, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest.

“Shit, Peanut”, he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re like a puzzle I can’t quite figure out. Makes me want to push, see how far you’ll bend before you break”.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to keep your breathing steady, to keep your focus anywhere but on him. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep this up, this fragile pretense of calm, but you knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to let this go. Not tonight.

The tension in the room was suffocating, and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands trembled as you placed them on your thighs, pushing yourself up from the couch. “I… I need some water”, you mumbled, not daring to look at him. You didn’t wait for his response—if he even had one—and walked quickly toward the little kitchen tucked into the corner of the safe house.

Your footsteps felt too loud against the worn wooden floor, the tiny kitchen offering no real reprieve from his presence. You grabbed a glass from the cupboard, your fingers trembling slightly as you filled it from the tap. You told yourself the sound of running water would drown out the pounding of your heart, but it didn’t.

The quiet click of his footsteps behind you made you freeze.

“Thirsty, huh?”, Ben’s voice came from far too close, his tone casual but laced with that ever-present teasing edge. He was right behind you now—you could feel him, his heat radiating like a furnace, the space between you barely a breath.

“I just needed some space”, you said, your voice quiet and shaky, gripping the glass like it was a lifeline.

“Space?”, he echoed, like the word was foreign to him. You heard him shift, his hand brushing lightly against the counter as he leaned against it. “Still can’t handle being near me?”.

You froze, the glass trembling slightly in your hands as you felt him step even closer. His body was right behind yours now, close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his chest against your back every time you shifted.

“You look really pretty today”, he murmured, his voice softer now, quieter, but no less unsettling. His words sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you gripped the glass tighter, your knuckles turning white.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your hair, playing with a loose strand like it was the most natural thing in the world. The movement was slow, deliberate, as if he were testing your reaction.

“Didn’t think a little dress like that could make someone so…”. He trailed off, his fingers gently tucking the strand behind your ear from behind, his touch warm against your skin. “Sweet. You do surprise me, Peanut”.

Your heart pounded, your breath catching in your throat. “Ben, please…”, you whispered, barely able to get the words out. You didn’t know what you were asking for—for him to stop, to step back, to leave you alone—but your voice carried the weight of your unease.

“Oh c'mon now”, he murmured, his tone dipping into that low, velvety register that always made your stomach twist. “I’m just saying you look nice. No harm in that, right?”.

His hand lingered for a moment longer, brushing lightly against your shoulder, before he stepped back just enough to give you a fraction of space. But it didn’t feel like enough. The air around you still felt heavy, charged with his presence.

“You don’t take compliments well, do you?”, he asked, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice as he leaned casually against the counter. “What’s so scary about me telling you you’re pretty?”.

“Nothing”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben’s gaze dropped, shamelessly traveling down your body. You could feel it, the weight of his eyes lingering on your legs. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, and you caught the faint movement out of the corner of your eye. It sent a fresh wave of heat through your face, your stomach twisting into knots.

“You know”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing, almost contemplative, “it’s been quite a while for me.” He leaned a little closer, his arm brushing lightly against yours as he rested it on the counter beside you. “And with you here, looking like that, acting all shy and innocent…”.

He trailed off, his smirk widening as his gaze dragged back up to meet yours. “It’s really hard for me, Peanut”.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your breath caught in your throat. Your grip tightened on the edge of the counter, your knuckles white as you fought to keep yourself grounded. “Ben, stop”, you said softly, your voice barely audible, but there was a tremble in it you couldn’t hide.

“Stop what?”, he asked innocently, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him. He wasn’t innocent, not even close. “I’m just being honest. You don’t want me to lie, do you?”.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. His smirk was maddening, equal parts charming and infuriating, and the way he was looking at you—like he was sizing you up, deciding just how far he could push—made your pulse race for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m not… I’m not doing anything”, you stammered, your words tumbling over themselves. “I’m just—”.

“Just standing there, looking all sweet and pretty”, he interrupted, his tone playful. He straightened slightly, his height and presence towering over you as he leaned a little closer. “You have no idea, do you? How hard you make it for me to keep my hands to myself?”.

Your breath hitched, and you stepped back instinctively, the counter digging into your lower back as you put as much distance between you as you could in the small space. But he didn’t move closer—he just stayed there, watching you, his smirk softening into something almost… curious.

Ben’s smirk deepened as he watched you, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he was peeling back every layer of your defenses. “You know”, he murmured, his voice soft but still carrying that teasing edge, “I think you actually like me, Peanut”.

Your eyes widened at his words, and you shook your head quickly, your back pressing harder against the counter. “That’s not true”, you said, your voice trembling with the effort to sound convincing.

But he didn’t seem fazed. If anything, your reaction only amused him more. His hand darted out, slow and deliberate, resting gently on your hip. It wasn’t forceful, wasn’t threatening—it was almost careful, like he was testing the waters, giving you a chance to stop him.

Your breath hitched, and your body tensed under his touch. The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of your dress, the weight of his hand grounding you and overwhelming you all at once.

“You’re not pushing me away”, he said softly, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. His fingers flexed slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you he was there. “That’s gotta count for something”.

You opened your mouth to say something, to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, but no words came out. You were frozen, caught in the weight of his gaze, the closeness of him, the way his presence consumed every inch of space around you.

His other hand came up slowly, brushing against a strand of hair that had fallen into your face. He tucked it behind your ear, his touch featherlight, his green eyes locking onto yours. “You keep telling yourself you’re scared of me”, he murmured, his tone quiet, almost tender. “But I think you’re scared of something else”.

“Ben, I…”. Your voice cracked, and you trailed off, your hands clutching the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Shh”, he whispered, his hand on your hip shifting just slightly, his thumb brushing against the curve of your waist. “You don’t have to say anything, Peanut. Not if you don’t want to”.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your uneven breathing, the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner. His touch wasn’t rough or demanding, but it was firm, grounding, impossible to ignore.

And then, slowly, he leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “Just… Push me away if you want me to stop. Promise I won´t be mad”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips so close to yours you could feel the ghost of their presence.

Your heart pounded, your mind racing with conflicting emotions—fear, confusion, and something far more dangerous bubbling beneath the surface. You hated how much you craved his attention, hated how much his touch made your body betray you. But even as you stood there, frozen, his words echoed in your mind: Push me away.

Would you? Could you?

The choice was yours.

Bot you didn’t push him away. You stayed still, your breath hitching as Ben’s smirk deepened. He took your silence as permission—or maybe just a challenge he was eager to win.

Without a word, his hands slid more firmly around your waist. Before you could even process what was happening, he lifted you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. The glass of water slipped from your fingers, landing with a dull clink on the counter as he set you down atop it. The cool surface against the back of your thighs made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him.

He stepped closer, pressing himself between your legs, his movements deliberate and unyielding. Your legs opened instinctively to accommodate him, the fabric of your dress sliding up as you shifted. The hem bunched high on your thighs, and your stomach dropped when you realized how exposed you were. The little triangle of fabric between your legs was on full display, and Ben’s gaze dropped to it immediately, his lips curling into a wolfish grin.

“Well, would you look at that”, he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the faintest edge of amusement making it all the more dangerous. His hands trailed down to your knees, his thumbs brushing against the inside of your thighs, sending a shock of warmth through your body. “Peanut, you’ve been holding out on me”.

You squirmed, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as if it could anchor you against the storm of his presence. “Ben…”, you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure if it was a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

“Shh”, he said softly, his hands sliding higher, spreading your legs further apart. “I told you, I’m not gonna hurt you”.

But the way he looked at you—the hunger in his eyes, the possessive way his hands claimed your body—made your pulse race for entirely different reasons. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your neck as he pressed his hips against yours, his body firm and unyielding.

“You have no idea”, he whispered, his voice rough and thick with desire. “No idea how hard it’s been. Watching you, waiting for you to stop running, stop hiding. But now…”. His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Now I’ve got you right where I want you”.

Your heart pounded, your mind spinning as his hands continued their slow, deliberate exploration of your body. You hated how your body reacted to him, how the heat pooled low in your belly, how your breathing quickened despite yourself. Hated how much you wanted him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

And Ben—he knew it, too. You could see it in his smirk, in the way his eyes burned with triumph. He was in control, and he knew it. You wanted him, and that he sure knew too.

Ben’s smirk deepened as his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing teasingly against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His touch was firm but not rough, as if he were savoring every moment. He leaned back slightly to get a better look, his eyes darkening as they locked onto the little triangle of fabric barely covering you.

“You know”, he murmured, his voice low and full of heat, “I’ve been imagining this for weeks. But it’s even better than I thought”.

You opened your mouth to respond—to say something—but the words caught in your throat once more as he hooked a finger under the fabric. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, a wicked gleam in his green eyes as he gave you - again - just enough time to stop him.

But you didn’t.

With a sharp, controlled movement, he ripped the delicate material apart, the sound of tearing fabric echoing in the quiet kitchen. The force of it sent a jolt through your body, but it didn’t hurt. It was more of a shock—both from the action itself and the way his eyes devoured the sight before him.

Your breath hitched as the ruined panties fell away, leaving you bare to him. His hands stilled for a moment, his gaze fixated on your glistening, perfectly shaven lips. A low growl rumbled in his throat, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on your thighs.

”Fuck peanut”, he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “Look at you”.

Ben’s grip on your thighs tightened as his eyes darkened, roaming over every inch of you like you were something he was about to own. He let out a low, gravelly chuckle, shaking his head with that familiar smirk—cocky and unapologetically lewd.

“Is this what chicks are doing these days? All shaved, all fucking spotless?”. His thumb traced lazily along your inner thigh, teasing just close enough to make you squirm. “In the ’80s, everyone had a damn jungle down here. Didn’t matter who you were, movie star or some chick at a dive bar—hair everywhere. But this?”.

His thumb slid lower, brushing over the seam of your closed, glistening lips. The slickness made his touch effortless, his rough hands stark against your softness. “This is a whole fucking upgrade”, he murmured, almost to himself, his tone filthy and raw. “Smooth as hell… fuck Peanut, you’re like a fucking dream”.

Ben’s eyes stayed glued between your legs, completely enthralled, like he was witnessing something unreal. The pad of his thumb pressed further, parting your slick lips with almost lazy confidence. He slid it down to your entrance, where he paused, testing the way your body reacted to him.

“Fuck me”, he muttered under his breath, his voice gravelly and thick with lust. “You’re soaked, Peanut. Look at this. Look at you”.

Your breath hitched audibly, your chest rising and falling as his thumb pressed lightly against your entrance, his other hand tightening its grip on your thigh to keep you exactly where he wanted you. His touch was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.

“You’re fucking perfect”, he murmured, half to himself.

Ben’s thumb dipped just barely inside you, and the moment he felt how tight you were, he froze. His breath hitched, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips as he pulled his hand back. His grip on your thigh tightened, grounding himself as he muttered under his breath, “No fucking way. Not with my fingers. I’m not wasting this on anything but my dick”.

His green eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a dark hunger that sent a shiver racing down your spine. He took a deep breath, his smirk returning as he dragged his hands up the outside of your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress higher as he went.

“You’re something else, Peanut”, he growled, his voice thick and unapologetically filthy. “This body, this tight little hole… it’s all mine”.

He grabbed the hem of your dress, tugging it upward with slow, deliberate movements, giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t. Instead, you lifted your arms instinctively, your breath catching in your throat as you helped him pull the dress over your head. The fabric slipped away easily, pooling on the floor beside the counter, leaving you bare except for your trembling body beneath his gaze.

Ben stepped back slightly, just enough to take you in, his eyes roaming over every inch of your exposed skin with raw, unfiltered desire. He let out a low whistle, his lips curving into a grin that was both predatory and approving.

“You’re even better than I imagined”. His hands moved back to your waist, firm and possessive as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, positioning you exactly where he wanted you.

“You don’t even realize, do you?”, he muttered, his hands trailing over your hips, your stomach, your thighs, like he couldn’t get enough of touching you. “How fucking perfect you are. How fucking lucky I am”.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, “I told you, Peanut. You’re mine now. Every inch of you”.

With one swift motion, Ben pulled the towel from his hips and tossed it carelessly to the side, revealing himself fully. Your eyes widened the moment you saw him—huge, heavy, and impossibly intimidating. A gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you instinctively pressed your hands against his chest, trying to push him away.

But he didn’t budge.

Your heart raced, panic and uncertainty flooding your senses. You weren’t a virgin, but this… this was different. The sheer size of him made your stomach twist with both fear and something else you didn’t want to name.

“Whoa there, Peanut”, Ben murmured, his voice low and teasing, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in his eyes as he glanced down at himself, then back at you. “Scared already? Thought you said you weren’t afraid of me”.

“I just…”, you stammered, your palms pressing harder against his chest, but he didn’t move. He stood there, unyielding, his muscles firm under your touch as he watched you with that same maddening smirk.

“Relax”, he said again, his tone dipping into that familiar mix of amusement and raw lust.

Your voice came out in a shaky whisper, your eyes wide and fixed on him. “This… this won’t fit. No way”.

Ben’s smirk deepened, the gleam in his eyes turning even more smug, like your fear only fed his ego. He let out a low chuckle, his broad chest rumbling under your trembling hands. “Won’t fit, huh?”, he repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. “You really think I’d let that stop me?”.

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling slightly against his chest as you tried to pull back, but his hands on your hips held you firmly in place. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Don’t sell yourself short, Peanut. You’ll take it. You just need a little… encouragement”.

Your stomach twisted at his words, a mix of fear and heat flooding your senses. “Ben, I—”, you started, but he cut you off, his hands sliding slowly up your sides, strong and possessive.

“I’ll make it fit”, he murmured, his voice low and dripping with confidence.

One of his hands moved between your bodies, and your breath hitched as he grabbed himself, his cock heavy and intimidating in his hand. His green eyes flicked up to yours briefly, watching your reaction.

“Just.. relax, Peanut”, he said softly, almost mockingly, as he positioned himself. “This is gonna feel real good. Trust me”.

You bit your lip hard as you felt the tip of him slide through your slick lips, the slow, deliberate motion making your body jolt with unexpected pleasure. The contrast of his roughness and your softness was overwhelming, your hips twitching instinctively as his thick head dragged against you.

“Fuck”, he muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on where your bodies touched. “You’re already soaking for me. You feel that, Peanut? That’s your body telling you it wants this. Wants me”.

A shaky whimper escaped your lips, and you hated yourself for the sound, for how much you wanted him. The warmth, the pressure, the way he moved��it was too much, too intense, too consuming.

Ben chuckled, his thumb brushing over your thigh as he kept guiding himself against you, letting his tip tease your entrance but not pushing in just yet. “Look at you”, he muttered. “Already whining, and I haven’t even given you the real thing yet”.

You bit your lip harder, trying to stifle another whimper. His free hand slid up your side, gripping your waist possessively as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Don’t hold back now, Peanut", he growled. “I want to hear every little sound you make. Wanna know how much you’re feeling this”.

The heat pooling low in your belly was unbearable, your body trembling as he continued his slow, torturous motions. He wasn’t even inside you yet, but the weight of him was enough to leave you breathless.

Ben’s cocky smirk softened just slightly as he began to nudge himself inside you, his movements surprisingly slow and deliberate. He pressed forward an inch at a time, giving you room to adjust to his size. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you steady as he worked himself in, his gaze locked on your face.

“Fuck, Peanut”, he muttered under his breath, the usual arrogance in his tone giving way to something deeper, rougher. “Tight as hell. I knew you’d feel good, but this? Fuck”.

You winced at the stretch, your body instinctively tensing around him as he pushed in further. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped your lips.

“Shh”, he murmured, his voice low and almost soothing as he paused, letting you adjust. “I know, baby. It’s a lot. But you’re doing good. So fucking good”.

Your hands gripped his forearms, your nails digging into his skin as he slid another inch deeper, the burn of the stretch making you gasp. “Ben”, you whispered, your voice trembling, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

“I’ve got you”, he said, his voice steady and firm, his thumbs rubbing small circles against your skin in a rare gesture of comfort. “You’ll get used to it. Just breathe”.

You tried to focus on his words, on the way he moved so slowly, giving you time to adjust to every inch of him. The stretch was still intense, still bordering on too much, but as he eased in further, your body began to relax, the pain giving way to a different kind of pressure.

“That’s it”, he murmured, his lips quirking into a small smirk as he watched you. “See? I told you you’d take it, Peanut”.

You couldn’t form a response, your breath hitching again as he pushed in another inch. He groaned softly, his head falling forward briefly, his self-control evident in the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

Your body trembled, the overwhelming fullness leaving you unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. He stayed still, his hands firm on your hips, his gaze softening just slightly as he gave you a moment to adjust.

“You’re doing so good, Peanut”, he said, his voice low and almost gentle, though the hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded. “Just a little more, and then I’ll make you feel real fucking good. I promise”.

Ben pushed in further, inch by inch, until he finally bottomed out, his hips pressing flush against yours. The sheer fullness, the stretch, was almost too much, and a breathless moan escaped your lips, mixed with a high-pitched whine that you couldn’t suppress. The sound seemed to drive him wild.

“Fuck”, Ben groaned, his head dropping forward to rest against your collarbone as his hands tightened on your hips. His breathing was ragged, and his entire body seemed to tense as he fought to keep himself in check. “You feel… Fuck, Peanut. You’re so fucking tight”.

You trembled under him, your hands instinctively clutching his broad shoulders as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of him filling you completely. He was so big, stretching you to your limits, and every inch of him pressed against places you didn’t even know could feel like this.

“Ben”, you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were pleading for him to move or to give you more time to adjust.

“I know, baby”, he muttered, his voice gravelly and low, muffled against your skin. “I know. Just… fuck, just give me a second”. He groaned again, a deep, primal sound that vibrated through your chest, his hands gripping your waist like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You’re perfect”, he murmured, lifting his head slightly to press his forehead against yours. His green eyes burned into yours, dark with lust and something deeper, something almost reverent. “Fucking perfect. You don’t even know what you’re doing to me”.

You let out a shaky breath, your body slowly relaxing more around him as he stayed still, letting you adjust to the fullness. His hands moved to cradle your thighs, spreading you wider as he groaned softly again, his lips brushing against your jawline.

“Breathe, Peanut”, he said, his voice softening for a moment as his thumbs rubbed gentle circles into your skin. “Just breathe. You’re taking me so damn well”.

The praise sent a rush of warmth through your body, making you shiver against him. Slowly, he began to pull back just an inch, testing, watching your reaction with sharp, hungry eyes. The drag of him against your sensitive walls made your breath hitch, and his smirk returned as he groaned again.

“Yeah”, he growled, his voice thick as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re gonna love this, Peanut. I’ll make sure of it”.

Ben groaned deeply as he began to move, the drag of his length against your tight walls slow and deliberate. He pulled back just enough to make you feel every inch before sinking back in, his hips pressing flush against yours once more. The stretch still made you wince, but the intensity of the sensation was quickly mingling with something warmer, something almost unbearable.

“Shit”, he muttered against your collarbone, his breath hot and ragged. His lips grazed your skin, his teeth scraping lightly as he fought to keep his pace measured. “You’re squeezing me so damn tight. Like you were fucking made for me”.

A breathless whimper escaped you as he thrust again, a little deeper, a little harder. The fullness was still overwhelming, but with every slow, calculated movement, your body started to adjust, to mold to him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, and he smirked against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you clung to him.

Ben’s thrusts grew harder, his hips snapping into yours with more purpose, more force. The sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, raw and intimate, but you bit your lip, desperate to keep quiet.

But Ben noticed. Of course, he noticed.

“Peanut”, he growled, his voice low and commanding, roughened by pleasure. He angled his hips just slightly, hitting a spot that made your back arch involuntarily. “Don’t you fucking hold back on me”.

A soft whimper escaped you, and his smirk returned, wicked and dangerous. “That’s more like it”, he muttered, his hands gripping your hips even tighter as he thrust again, harder this time. “I want to hear you. Every. Fucking. Sound”.

You clenched your teeth, your nails digging harder into his shoulders as you fought to keep quiet, but it was no use. His pace was relentless now, each movement deliberate, dragging pleasure and desperation out of you with every stroke.

“C’mon, baby”, he murmured, leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “Don’t be shy. I want to hear how much you love this. Want to hear you beg me for more”.

You shook your head weakly, trying to resist, but when he thrust again, deeper than before, a moan slipped past your lips, raw and unrestrained. Ben groaned in response, the sound rough and guttural as he rocked into you harder.

“Fuck, that’s it”, he growled, his teeth scraping against your neck as he buried himself to the hilt again. “That’s the sound I’ve been waiting for. Knew you couldn’t stay quiet forever”.

Your breath hitched as he moved faster, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands moved up to grip your waist, holding you steady as he claimed every inch of you, his lips grazing your skin as he spoke again.

“You feel that?”, he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Feel how perfectly you’re taking me? That tight little body of yours was made for this, Peanut. Made for me”.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your soft moans turning into desperate whimpers as he pushed you further and further. His words, his touch, the sheer intensity of him—it was too much, too overwhelming. And Ben—he soaked in every sound, every tremble, every gasp, his grin widening as he kept driving into you like he couldn’t get enough.

“That’s my girl”, he murmured, his hands sliding up to cup your face as his eyes locked onto yours. “Now stop holding back and let me hear it all”.

Ben could feel it—the way your body tightened around him, your walls fluttering as you approached the edge. His pace didn’t falter; if anything, it became sharper, more deliberate, each thrust angled perfectly to drive you closer to unraveling completely.

“You’re close, aren’t you, Peanut?”, he murmured. “I can feel it. You’re squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go”.

You whimpered, your nails raking against his shoulders as the pressure in your core built to an unbearable intensity. Your head fell back, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps, but Ben wasn’t about to let you hide from him.

“Uh-uh”, he said sharply, his hands gripping your hips harder as he slowed his thrusts just enough to regain your attention. “Don’t you fucking look away”.

Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze hazy and unfocused as you tried to meet his. His green eyes burned with intensity, dark with hunger and something possessive that made your stomach twist. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours, his movements deliberate and unyielding as he pushed you closer and closer.

“When you come”, he growled, his voice rough and commanding, “you look at me, Peanut. Got it?”.

You nodded weakly, unable to form words, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge. He thrust harder, deeper, his rhythm relentless now, each motion pulling soft cries from your lips that you couldn’t control.

“That’s it”, he muttered, his gaze locked on yours, unyielding. “That’s my girl. Let me see it. Let me see you fall apart for me”.

The final thrust sent you over the edge, your body clenching tightly around him as your release crashed through you. Your eyes locked onto his, your vision blurring with the intensity of it, and Ben groaned deeply, the sound rough and raw as he watched every second of your undoing.

“Fuck, Peanut”, he muttered, his voice strained as your walls gripped him like a vice. “You’re so fucking perfect like this”.

Your body trembled as the waves of pleasure coursed through you, and even as you came undone beneath him, Ben didn’t stop. His movements slowed just enough to let you ride out your high, his hands firm and steady on your hips as he kept you exactly where he wanted you.

“Fucking beautiful when you come. Told you I’d make you love this”, he murmured, his smirk returning as he leaned in to brush his lips against your ear.

Ben wasn’t close to being done with you—not by a long shot. After a moment of catching his breath, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the couch and sitting down with you straddling his lap. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you as he eased you down onto him again. The stretch made your breath hitch all over again, but your body had already molded to him, making it easier this time.

“You’re not done yet, Peanut”, he murmured, his voice low and smug, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Not until I’ve had my fill”.

You didn’t know how much more you could take, but your body responded on instinct, your arms wrapping around his neck as he thrust up into you, slow and steady. Every motion sent shivers through you, the pressure building again despite how spent you already felt. His hands roamed your body, gripping, caressing, holding you steady as he moved beneath you.

Time blurred. You lost count of how many times he made you come—how many times your body tensed, shook, and fell apart in his arms. Ben took his time, alternating between hard, commanding movements and surprising moments of gentleness, as though savoring every second. His voice was a constant in your ear, filthy and possessive, coaxing every moan, whimper, and gasp out of you like they belonged to him.

By the time you collapsed against his chest, your body spent and trembling, you couldn’t even think straight. Your breaths came in soft, shaky gasps, your cheek resting against his chest. Ben’s hands moved to your back, stroking gently now, his touch grounding as you slowly came down from the overwhelming high.

“Shh”, he murmured, his voice softer now. “You’re done, baby. You’ve earned your rest”.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you securely against him as he leaned back into the couch. The tension in your body eased, and you felt your eyelids grow heavy, the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his body lulling you into a daze.

Surprisingly, Ben didn’t push for more. He simply held you, his rough hands surprisingly gentle as they traced lazy circles on your back. His cocky smirk had softened into something almost content, his head resting against the back of the couch as he watched you drift off.

“Guess I wore you out”, he muttered, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he shifted slightly to make you more comfortable. “Can’t say I blame you, Peanut. You did good”.

You didn’t respond—couldn’t respond—as sleep overtook you. Completely spent, your body went limp against him, your soft breaths warm against his skin as you passed out in his arms. And for once, Ben didn’t press or tease. He just stayed there, holding you close, his gaze lingering on you with something almost resembling pride.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[hxzbinwrites]

Idk if you do headcanons or one shots but either or will be fine:

Can I pretty please get a Vox x Emotionless! Reader?

Plot can be whatever you want but just to (hopefully) give some ideas… maybe Vox had no interest in Reader but then uh oh she smiled! Now Vox has a crush (°▽°)

But yeah lol thank you!! Have a good day!

Vox x Emotionless! Reader | Lovestruck Fool |

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Vox is a horrible boss

10:00am

(Y/n) walked into Vox’s office, holding an folder with today’s date and Vox’s name on it.

“Mr. Vox.” She said, her dead eyes watching her boss turn around in his excessively large chair.

“Hm, what is it (Y/n)?” He said, giving her a single glance before turning back to his monitors

“You have three meetings today sir. 1:00pm with Velvette in her portion of the tower. 2:30pm with Valentino in the main conference room, and someone scheduled a 4:00 with you, a Mr. Alastor? Called in today for an urgent meeting.”

Vox slammed his hands down on the desk, his face glitching in seething anger. “THAT PRICK!! CALL BACK AND TELL HIM I WILL NOT BE ATTENDING ANY SORT OF MEETING WITH HIM!!”

“He called from a public telephone sir, I can’t trace the caller ID.” (Y/n) said, clearly unfazed by his temper tantrum.

“DAMN IT!” He said, punching a smaller monitor on his right,”DONT YOU EVER LET HIM SCHEDULE ANOTHER MEETING WITH ME OR VOXTECH EVER AGAIN!!!”

Vox turned around, pointing one of his clawed fingers in your deadpanned face.

“Okay sir, is that all?”

“UGH!!” He said, clenching his fists to his side,”WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?? IM AN OVERLORD, I AM THE VOX, YOU SHOULD BE QUIVERING IN FEAR!! IM YELLING MY HEAD OFF AT YOU AND YOU CANT EVEN FORM AN EXPRESSION?? ARE YOU BRAINDEAD??”

(Y/n) slowly blinks, before looking down and rummaging through the folder she still held. “Ah, I almost forgot. Mr. Alastor requested his meeting also in the main conference room. If you need another reminder about your meetings today just call me-“

She was cut off once more by Vox, screaming and yelling, throwing things hazardously across the room. “JUST LEAVE.”

“Alright sir.” (Y/n) said, immediately turning away and walking towards the door.

————

4:45pm

(Y/n) was at her desk, taking calls and rearranging Vox’s schedule for tomorrow when her work phone buzzed.

“Hello? This is (Y/n) with Voxtech. How may I-“

“(Y/n). My office. Now.”

“Sir? This isn’t your work phone number? How can I be sure that this is-“

“MY OFFICE. NOW.”

(Y/n) could hear his voice glitching over the phone before she hung up, and briskly made her way to the door of his office.

She walked in to his Vox in his obnoxiously large chair, his hands covering his screen as he sighed in exhaustion.

“Ah, sir. You called me?”

“Yes (Y/n). I have installed safety features into your desk. Don’t except meetings from Alastor. If he comes in here, press the button under your monitor. He is NEVER allowed in this building.”

“Okay sir.” She said, making a note of that on her smartwatch,”Will that be all?”

“Can you get me a coffee…?”

“Right away sir.”

————

5:00pm

“Here’s your coffee sir.” (Y/n) said, setting it in his outreached hand.

“Thank you (Y/n)” He said, taking a single sip before doing a spit take. On one of the monitors around the city, it showed Velvette and Alastor chatting to one another.

“WHAT?!?” Vox yelled, being as “careful” as he usually is, his coffee flies into the air before landing on his shirt. He hissed in pain at the hit liquid, scrambling around before tripping on the various wires around his monitor setup (that was replaced after his previous temper tantrum) and landing on his ass.

Vox looked up in shock to see (Y/n) covering half of her mouth, revealing a smile. Tears brimmed her eyes as she tried to respectfully hold in her laughter.

Vox’s face felt red hot. Out of embarrassment and admiration. Why didn’t she smile more? Oh that smile, if she could remove her hand it would reveal its full glory. Let him soak it in. Her eyes filled with life and laughter. Has she always been this….beautiful? Yes, I think she has. She has indeed.

She let out a little snort before regaining her composure, before crouching down in front of him, taking the napkins provided with the coffee, and starting to wipe off as much of the liquid as possible. He felt her delicate hands rub across his chest. He hope she didn’t feel his erratic heartbeat.

He wanted this. He’s yearned for this and he didn’t even know it. Vox’s breathing became as erratic as his heartbeat, almost in sync. He felt sweat starting to drip, wether it be from the hot coffee adorning his now ruined shirt or from the stunning woman and her hands on his chest.

Trying to get as much as she could, (Y/n) scooted even closer, not realizing her hips were hovering right over his. Vox’s mind was running wild, his screen glitching and flicking between different error signals. His hands floating near the handles of her hips. Taking a gulp, he almost put his hands on her skin. Almost. He ended up just leaving his hands there, leaving a ghostly stabilization to the assistant who was cleaning him up like a toddler who spilt his apple juice.

(Y/n) looked up at Vox’s eyes, their eyes locking onto one another. A small smile could be faintly seen across her lips before it went back to its neutral state.

She helped him to his feet, her soft hands gently pulling on his clawed ones, slowly helping him to his feet. Handing him the remaining napkins. “I’ll schedule a trip to the dry cleaners. Does 3:45 tomorrow work well for you?”

Vox sat back down, his eyes wide in shock from what just happened. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I don’t care.”

“Alright sir, I’ll get that done, and then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

(Y/n) walked out, the door closing behind her. Leaving the room back in it’s inky black darkness, with the exception of the glowing monitors.

Vox looked at his reflection in the main monitor. He could see his goofy smile. His blush adorning his cheeks. His eyes lighting up like a child who knows no sin. He looked like what he was, a lovestruck fool. A lovestruck fool for his assistant.

————

Word Count: 1006

(sorry it’s so short, i’m trying to get as many requests done as i can 😭)

[uzurakis]

I’m not sure if this is the place to request, but I’ll leave it here. 🥹💪🏻 I hope you’re doing well! I really enjoy your work. Do you think the JJK men will ever be in a romantic relationship with someone? I sometimes feel they won’t find someone because of the dangers they face. Could you write a scenario where they love you so much but don’t want to get you in their life because you can get hurt being in love with them🥺🙏 (Please include Inumaki and Goji; I love the way you write him so much. Thanks!!! ♥️♥️♥️)

I DON’T WANT U GETTING HURT CUZ OF ME!

featuring: nanami kento. fushiguro toji. fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru

n. i’m doing well, i hope u’re too, nonnie. i don’t write for toge as i’ve stated in my rules, but i surely do write for gojo; so here it is ^^

NANAMI KENTO was meticulously grading papers late at night, the soft rustle of pages the only sound in his otherwise silent apartment. his mind, usually focused and disciplined, kept drifting back to you. he clenched his fist, pushing the thought away as he forced himself to concentrate on the assignments in front of him. “i can’t let them become a target,” he told himself repeatedly, jaw tightening with each repetition.

the pile of papers slowly diminished, yet the nagging worry in his heart did not. he knew the dangers of his occupation as a jujutsu sorcerer all too well. allowing you deeper into his life meant exposing you to those same dangers, and that was something he could not bear.

later that evening, he dropped you off at your home. his demeanor was more reserved than usual, his words carefully measured. “always be aware of your surroundings,” he said, his voice steady but lacking its usual warmth.

you looked at him, sensing something was off. “kento are you okay? you seem . . distant.”

he forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “i’m fine. just tired from work.” he glanced around, scanning the area out of habit. “remember to lock your doors and windows. and if you ever feel unsafe, call me immediately.”

though, you nodded, feeling a pang of concern. “i will. but, kento, you can talk to me, you know? if something’s bothering you . .”

the man looked at you. if the situation, if the life he chose had let him, he wanted to tell you everything, to let you in on the turmoil he felt. but then, the reality of his world crashed back in. “i know. thank you.” he reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “just . . take care of yourself, alright?”

you squeezed his hand back, feeling the tension in his grip. “i will. you too, kento.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI loved you more than he could ever express, but his world was dark and filled with danger. knowing this, he made the hardest decision of his life and left you in the dust. watching you from the shadows, his usual smirk was replaced by a look of concern and gloom. he kept his distance, observing you from afar, ensuring you were safe without revealing his presence.

fast forward, as you walked home from work, you sensed someone following you. your heart raced, but you continued walking, pretending not to notice. then, you heard his voice, low and rough, but unmistakable. “stay away from people like me.”

you froze, turning around to find the guy standing a few feet away, partially hidden in the shadows. “toji?” you whispered, heart aching at the sight of him.

he stepped closer, but not close enough to touch. “don’t search for me. my world . . it’s too dangerous for you.”

tears welled up in your eyes as you took a step forward. “why did you leave? you didn’t even give me a chance to understand.”

toji clenched his fists, the pain evident on his face. “i left because i love you, for heaven’s sake! because i know what happens to people who get close to me. they get hurt, or worse.”

“. . i can’t let that happen to you.”

he sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping whilst you were left with zero words. “it’s not that simple. every day i’m in your life, you’re at risk. the best thing i can do for you is to stay away.” he looked back at you, “just promise me you’ll be safe. stay away from people like me.”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI often debated whether he should distance himself to keep you safe or savor every precious moment he had with you. this internal conflict left him feeling frustrated, and he struggled to reconcile his feelings with the reality of his dangerous life.

to protect you, megumi kept your interactions brief and guarded. he feared that his enemies might use you against him, and the thought of you being dragged into his world was unbearable. he knew you deserved a peaceful life, free from the horrors he faced daily.

later that evening, you approached him, sensing his uneasiness. “megumi . . is everything alright?” you asked gently, concern shown in your eyes.

he looked at you, his expression conflicted. “i, i’m fine,” he replied, though his sentence lacked conviction.

you stepped closer, refusing to be deterred. “fushiguro megumi, how many times i’ve said that you don’t have to hide from me? i can see something’s bothering you. now please, talk to me.”

megumi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it’s not that simple. being with me . . it’s dangerous. the enemies could use you to get to me. i don’t want to see you get hurt.”

touching his arm, you reached out. “baby, i understand the risks. but i also know that i love you, and i want to be with you, no matter what.”

“but you shouldn’t be dragged into this. you deserve a normal life, without all this danger.”

“i don’t care about a normal life,” you said with all your will. “i care about you. and i want to be by your side, even if it’s not easy.”

“i just . . i don’t want to lose you.”

GOJO SATORU seldom joked and flirted like he used to, his demeanor growing more serious whenever he was around you. he often caught himself staring at you, lost in thoughts of a life where he could protect you without the constant fear of danger.

he was the strongest, after all, wasn't he? sometimes, he felt confident that he could keep you safe, that he could shield you from any harm. but a part of him couldn't ignore the nagging doubt; the countless enemies he had made, the unpredictable nature of the future. he could protect himself, but what about you? could he always make it in time when the clock struck?

currently, you both sat on the balcony, the city lights twinkling below. gojo's gaze was distant, his mind clearly preoccupied. you reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "satoru, what's wrong? you've been so detached lately."

he looked at you, those usually playful blue eyes now seemed duskier. "i've been thinking about us, about your safety."

you frowned, concern etching your features. "my safety? satoru, i know your job is dangerous, but we've talked about this. i want to be with you, no matter what."

"it's never that simple. i have enemies, powerful ones. i can protect myself, but . . what if something happens to you? what if i'm not there in time?"

trying to offer reassurance, you brushed his shoulders. "you're the strongest sorcerer, satoru. if anyone can protect me, it's you. but i also know the risks, and i'm willing to take them because i love you."

his expression softened, but the worry didn't leave his eyes. "i love you too, more than anything. but i can't help but think about the future, about the dangers. i don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"we'll face whatever comes together. i trust you, satoru. and i know you won't let anything happen to me."

he pulled you into an embrace, holding you tightly as if trying to shield you from the world. "i promise i'll do everything i can to keep you safe. but you need to promise me you'll be careful, too."

@uzurakis

[childrenofcain-if]

Please let us comfort C about their knee 😭 I'm seriously going to be angry if there's no option to beat the sh*t out of Alain when we see him in game 😡

I'm begging you for a fluff piece, they deserve it ❤️🙏

C’s dorm always felt quiet—as though the silence itself was holding its breath. even when music hummed low from the speakers, even when there was a mug of tea on the desk and a book abandoned on the bed, even when you were there. especially when you were there.

you hadn’t meant to stay this long—hadn’t meant to be here at all, really. but the night had bled into a soft comfort that made time meaningless, and C had let their guard down in that way they only ever did with you, trading their usual biting flippancy for something quieter. something fragile and hidden beneath layers of disdain that you’d spent years peeling back.

they were standing now, aiming to move toward the small kitchenette attached to the common area, their voice low as they asked, “do you want anything? tea? something else?”

“tea’s fine,” you said, leaning back against the wall, your legs curled beneath you on the bed. it was a simple enough exchange, a moment so ordinary it felt almost... domestic.

and then you saw it—the faint hitch in their step, the way their right leg dragged ever so slightly behind the left.

your heart thudded once, hard enough to make your ribs hurt.

“C,” you said, your voice louder than you meant it to be. they froze mid-step, their back to you, their shoulders taut as if bracing for a blow. “did you—did you fall or something?”

they didn’t turn around. for a moment, you thought they wouldn’t answer at all. then, slowly, they turned their head, their profile striking in the dim light. the shadows softened their face but did nothing to hide the tension in their jaw, the faint tremor in their hands as if you’d caught them doing something illegal.

“no,” they said finally, the word flat and hollow.

you sat up straighter. “then what—”

“it’s nothing,” they snapped, spinning to face you. their voice wasn’t loud, but it was harsh, each syllable flung like glass shards meant to keep you at a distance. their chalcedony green eyes burned, but the fire in them wasn’t the usual fury you’d come to expect from C. it was fear, raw and unfiltered.

“C…” you said again, softer this time, and that was what did it. their face crumpled, not quite enough to be called a collapse, but enough for you to see the exhaustion carved into their bones. they sat down heavily on the bed, their head bowed as if the weight of the moment were too much to bear.

“it’s nothing,” they repeated, but it sounded like a lie even to them.

“i don’t believe you.”

you waited, the silence stretching between you, brittle and acute. finally, they looked up at you, their face pale, their lips pressed into a thin line.

“my father,” they said, the words forced and clipped, as if they were prying them loose from their lungs with a metal wrench. “when i was little. he… he didn’t like that i accidentally broke a china plate from the kitchen while grabbing some food. apparently it was antique and one of its kind. believed i needed to be punished for being so careless.” they laughed bitterly. “he used a baseball bat to teach me a lesson.”

the air in the room shifted, stifling. you couldn’t speak, couldn’t fathom the kind of cruelty it would take to do something like that to a mere child. to C.

you swallowed hard, your throat tight. “let me see.”

they stared at you, their eyes wide and disbelieving. “what?”

“your knee,” you said, your voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath it. “please.”

for a moment, you thought they would refuse. they sat motionless, their hands clenched into fists at their sides, their breath coming shallow and uneven. then, slowly, they nodded.

C stood, their movements stiff and deliberate, and pushed the waistband of their pajama pants down far enough to reveal their knee. the act itself wasn’t sensual, wasn’t sexual; it was simply them letting you in, letting you see a piece of them they’d spent years hiding. but perhaps that knowledge made it all the more intimate.

your breath caught as your eyes fell on the fair, marble-like skin stretched over the joint. the shape of the knee was uneven, the bone obtruding out at odd angles where it had healed wrong. there were faint scars, pale and jagged, like ghostly reminders of the violence that had shaped them. the area around it was slightly swollen, the skin faintly discolored, a muted blue-gray hue that looked almost tender to the touch.

you reached out before you could think better of it, your fingers brushing lightly against the damaged skin. C flinched but didn’t pull away, their eyes locked on yours, their breath hitching as if the contact ached in ways that weren’t physical.

“good god,” you whispered, the word trembling on your lips.

C laughed, uncharacteristically nervous. “it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“it’s worse,” you said, and the anger in your voice shocked you both. but it wasn’t anger at them—it was at the man who had done this, the man who had taken a child and broken them in ways that could never fully be repaired.

without thinking, you leaned down and pressed your lips gently to their knee. the kiss was soft, reverent, more an act of devotion than anything else. C gasped, their hand flying to your hair, their fingers trembling as they threaded through it.

“what are you doing?” they whispered with a surprised look in their eyes.

“loving you,” you said simply, shutting them up.

see, childhood had been a knife stuck in C’s throat for the longest time, honed sharp by alain’s hands.

it was a knife that dulled with time but never stopped twisting. even now, years removed from that godforsaken house, from that evil man, they felt its cold atmosphere in every step they took, every chronic flare of pain in their knee when it rained or when they put too much pressure on their right leg, every stumble they hid behind a sharp tongue and a perfect façade.

vulnerability was a language they had unlearned as a child, carved out of them with every slap, every shout, every moment alain had twisted ‘love’ into something entirely unrecognizable.

and yet, here you were.

your lips pressed to their knee, the damaged joint that had never quite healed, and C felt like they were being slowly undone. the kiss was so gentle, so absurdly soft against the place they hated most about themself, that they thought they might break apart entirely.

no one kissed scars like this. no one kissed something so damningly ruined and made it holy.

C looked down at you, your face turned toward them like you belonged there, like you didn’t see the unflatteringly jutting angles of their bones or the bruises still hidden deep inside their soul which was wrapped in the rage that they inherited from their father.

you saw them. and in that moment, C wondered if you were the only reason they had managed to keep breathing through all the years of pain and silence.

they remembered the first time they laid eyes on you during middle school. you had been all fire and light, laughing with some friends, your smile so bright it had burned them. C, sitting alone at the back of the classroom, had felt a squeeze in their chest they couldn’t name. not yet.

at the time, it had felt like resentment—how dare you shine so freely when their world was filled with shadows which often made them taste the coppery taste of their own blood? how dare you be a star, so untouchable, so effortlessly seen?

but it wasn’t hatred, not really. they knew that now.

for years, they had convinced themselves that their fixation on you was because they wanted to outshine you, to prove they were your equal. they had fought you in every class, thrown snide remarks, done everything they could to make you notice them.

because the truth was, they would have torn the world apart just to make you look at them the way they looked at you.

and when you finally did—when your gaze settled on them, not with pity or contempt but with something startlingly like understanding—they had felt like they could truly breathe for the first time in their life.

now, as you knelt in front of them, your breath ghosting over their skin, C thought that maybe they had been living for you all along.

and it scared the fuck out of them.

because loving someone like this, needing someone like this, was just a brand new knife against their throat. and the most terrifying part of it all was that C’s heart didn’t mind it this time, not at all.

“tu es tutus,” you murmured, your lips brushing over the misshapen bone of their right knee. you’re safe.

they closed their eyes, their lips quirking up in a faint, almost disbelieving smile.

“amor meus, vita mea,” they said softly, their latin perfect, their voice unsteady. my love, my life.

you leaned into them, your forehead resting against their thigh, and they tilted their head back, their breath caught in a way that broke your heart.

C wasn’t a religious person. alain had beaten any notion of faith out of them long before they were old enough to properly understand it. but as they looked at you, they thought that maybe, just maybe, there was something divine about you.

my sweet starkid, they thought, god—or fate, or the universe, or whatever cruel, indifferent force that exists—must have made you just for me.

they reached out to you, their hand trembling slightly as it settled on the back of your neck. they pulled you closer, their lips pressing against your temple in a kiss so light it barely counted as one.

“stay,” they said, the word cracking slightly. it wasn’t a command though; it was a plea.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you replied, your voice steady and sure, and C thought that maybe, for the first time in their life, they believed it.

that really did hammer the nail in the proverbial coffin. you loved C unconditionally, so they lived.

[bkgml]

i absolutely LOVE your works!! could you write about y/n and bakugo having a argument and y/n sleeping on the couch? i dont mind if its gonna be a sad or happy ending ;D

(feel free to ignore this ask!)

WOOOO I GET SUCH A BOOST WHEN PPL COMPLIMENT MY WORK is that shallow idk but like even if it is you can’t blame me 😚

“leave me alone katsuki.” you frown, tears in your lash line as you walk into the kitchen.

“stop acting like a child yn.” he calls after you.

you stop before inhaling sharply to regain your composure. you’re not in the mood to argue, you had a really long day today and you just wanted to cuddle katsuki and go to bed.

you continue walking to the fridge so you can make dinner.

“now you’re fuckin ignoring me? it was one date.” he says coldly.

that pushes you over the edge. whipping your head to glare at him.

“one date?! katsuki you’ve missed 15 dates. you’re constantly prioritizing me over your job and i get left behind to pick up the pieces. i’m sick of it!!” you scream.

he walks toward you, caging you into the counter and you frown because you know what he’s looking for.

“you can’t kiss me and expect this to all go away katsuki. it’s happened too many times!” you frown, pushing him away.

he lets you, taking the hint.

“you know i need to go into work when they call me, you’re being selfish!” he yells and slams his hand on the countertop.

you jump away from him and your eyes fill with tears.

“don’t yell at me.” you frown.

“i’m gonna go to bed. i don’t want dinner.” you mumble, rushing past him to go to the family room.

“you’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“don’t tell me what to do!!” you snap.

he purses his lips and turns to leave.

“i’m sleeping on this couch before you decide to do the proper thing and apologize like an adult.” you call after him.

his fists clench and he stoms into the bedroom.

you force yourself to sleep. you’ve forgiven him way too many times.

katsuki lies awake in his room. counting how many minutes have passed without you coming to bed. he didn’t know you were this mad, he wants to spend time with you so badly. unfortunately hes trying to save up for the perfect ring and has taken on too many shifts. hes hoping he hasn’t fucked up bad enough for you to leave him.

at that thought, he makes his way to the living room. peeling back the warm blankets in exchange for the cold air of a girlfriend-less night.

he finds you in a light sleep on the couch.

“baby.” he says, brushing your hair out of your face.

“baby come to bed please? ‘m sorry.” he says, lowly.

your eyes flutter open and you frown at him.

“i said im not coming to bed, suki.” you pout.

he grunts in frustration.

“fine.” he says, standing.

you think he’s on his way back to bed so you shut your eyes once again.

only to feel your body get crushed by his weight.

“katsuki.” you groan, trying to shove him off.

“not moving.” he says while wrapping his strong arms around your waist.

“i’m not done being mad at you.” you whisper into the silence.

he removes his arms in favour of pulling up your shift to press soft kisses to the spot on your tummy that sends butterflies to flutter around your stomach.

“i know.” he replies in between kisses.

“but i’m done with you being mad at me.” he says while putting your shirt down over his head.

you sigh, attempting to pull the shirt back up so you can see his face.

he doesn’t let you though, preferring to nose at the soft part of your tummy.

“i know you’re hiding a blush under there.” you say.

“no you don’t.” he replies, resuming his kisses.

“alright.” you say softly.

he pops his head out now, thumbs starting to rub circles into your hips.

“hm?” he questions.

you sigh before reaching to cup his cheek.

“i forgive you,” you mumble and he smiles softly, leaning into your palm.

“i guess.” you grin and he bites your hand.

“ow! don’t push your luck.” you frown.

“sorry,” he mumbles.

“i guess.” he says and your grin drops.

he cackles loudly before standing and throwing you over his shoulder.

you laugh with him and bite his waist.

“hey.” he grunts and throws you on the bed.

you giggle and open your arms.

he shuffles up until his entire body weight is on you and his face is in your neck.

“don’t sleep on the couch ever again.” he mumbles, lips grazing your neck giving you shivers.

“don’t do dumb shit ever again.” you mumble back and he frowns.

“said i was sorry.”

“i know.” you smile, brushing his hair off his forehead and pressing a lingering kiss to his skin.

he hums in content as his eyes flutter shut before he falls asleep.

“miss another date and i’ll fucking kill you.” you whisper.

his eyes snap open.

[daphwritesworld]

Hiii can you write something about Alessia and reader being rivals and are playing for separate National Teams Like reader plays as an Example for Germany (you don't have to do Germany but would be cool) and they get into an Argument but it ends up in sex

Please dom Alessia

(this is my first time requesting something so my explaining is really baddd)

a/n: hii!! thank you for requesting ! and no your totally fine. i’m pretty sure i understand exactly what you meant from your description :D

A.Russo x Rival!Reader

content: pussy eating (technically both receiving), fingering (r receiving), dom/sub relationship, Germany! player reader, bratty! reader, top!Alessia, bottom!reader

warnings: some impact play mentioned but not in detail, orgasm denial, overstimulation, 69ing, dom!lessi deserves her own warning tbh , enemies-2-fucking like animals, semi public for like a smidge

synopsis: You run your mouth in the locker room so Alessia walks you like a dog…your own fault really.

word count: 1.9k

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥♠♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s the 2022 UEFA WOMEN’S EURO FINALS. You’re the last one left in Germany’s locker room, the final score ringing up to 2 v 1. You’d scored your teams only goal for the night, but still you were the one to take the loss the hardest. Your team knew to leave you alone when you got like this— all in your head and self blaming.

As your untying your last cleat you hear the door reopen behind you. You’re left clad in just your shorts, sports bra, and socks now that you throw the shoe off towards the floor. “I told you I don’t want to go to the fucking bar, Lena!” Your voice barks out across the room.

“Oh so feisty, aren’t you, love?” The familiar accent rings out from behind you. You swear you can hear the smirk in her voice as she says it, anger boiling up inside you as you clench your fists.

“What are you doing here, Russo? Came to gloat about a game you didn’t even score in? Give Walsh and Kelly my respects, considering they at least earned it,” you whip around. A little caught off guard at how close she is, but it doesn’t stop you from letting the fury spit out of your mouth like venom on your tongue.

“You must still be mad you missed that goal when you shot wide. Could’ve at least tied us up, you know. Was it me tackling you or the fact i kept stealing the ball that got into that thick head of yours? Seems like i’m the only one who can get through that thing,” she flicks a finger onto your forehead as she ends her little rant. A small smile sitting devilishly pretty on her lips as she does so.

You go push at her chest, puffing out a huff of hot air through your angrily scrunched up nostrils. She lets your fists come down one time, then she’s grabbing your wrists and pinning them down onto the lockers behind you. You’re stuck struggling between her warm body and the freezing cold surface that she’s got you pressed up against.

“I’m not one of your little punching bags, Y/L/N. You put your hands on me again, and I promise you it’ll be the last time. I’m not gonna deal with your little tantrums like your team does. Be a big girl and take the heat, or i’ll treat you the way brats deserve to be treated,” Her body is flush against yours as she says it, a threatening gaze shooting out to meet yours.

“You don’t scare me, Russo. You’re like a puppy dog who’s never had its tail stepped on. So wide eyed and bushy tailed—“ you yank one of your hands from her grasp as you point a finger towards her chest and start moving it forwards, “like a little bitc—“ you’re cut off as she flips your body around, face pressing into the cold lockers now as you feel her hand on the back of your neck keeping you in place.

“You need to learn some fucking manners, baby. It’s a good thing we’ve got plenty of time to teach you some,” She says right against your back. Her breath tickling your nape as the tiny hairs there stand up straight.

It’s a blur from there to her hotel room. She threw her hoodie over your head before dragging you out of there, putting you into her car before speeding off into the night. Now she’s got you spread wide open, legs out as she devours on your cunt.

Your wrists are handcuffed to the railing on her headboard and a blindfold covers your tear drenched eyes. You’ve got red marks on your ass from her spanking lesson from the first 20 minutes inside her luxury room. The plush Egyptian cotton percale sheets soothing the burn on your cheeks.

Her hands keep your hips pinned down as her tongue slides down to your hole, it twitches under her ministrations. Begging for her to pay it some attention after all the orgasms she’s denied you. It’s at least been three so far. She pulls away at the slightest hint you might be close, leaving you to shake and cry out even harder than the last time.

The mean words that have been tumbling from your mouth now turning into whines and whimpers of “Please!” and “M’sorry Less!”

You can’t see it, but she’s smirking up at you. You feel the vibrations from her laugh though, as it courses up through to your clit. A ragged moan rips out of your mouth at the feeling, sending you into a fit of pleasure.

“L-Lessi! I-I’ll do anything. Just please le-lemme cum!” you’ve got a majority of the blindfold covered in one big wet spot now from all the tears it’s absorbed. Your wrists are red from pulling at your restraints, and Alessia is finally starting to think she’s breaking you down enough to reward you. You’re being so sweet now, saying please and thank you. And who could resist that little pout on your lips as you cry? It’s absolutely fucking addictive. Or at least it is to Alessia, as she takes out her phone and snaps a quick picture to remember this moment.

Her hands come down to softly start taking the handcuffs off, her lips following suit as they litter little kisses along the red lines surrounding them. When she’s done enough of that to her liking she moves to the piece of silk tied around your face, undoing the knot as she peels if off your wet little cheeks. You look up her with those submissive teary eyes and she can’t help the groan that comes out of her throat.

The need to see you like this— so broken, has been overtaking her ever since the first time she played against you. Every game after that one the tension grew, on and off pitch. Until now, where it’s finally bubbled over and taken the forefront of both your minds. That tough girl exterior you put up is completely gone as she has you begging for her touch, a nice little slut ready for her unraveling.

She’s got you right where she’s wanted you, underneath her and at her mercy. She lowers herself down, prying one of your legs up as she lifts it over her shoulder and leans down towards your neck, making you whine from the stretch she forces you into in this position. Your thigh burns but it’s soon forgotten about as her fingers start playing with your folds.

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, Lessi! It’s yours.”

She chuckles at your obedience. So, so different from the same girl she was arguing with her in the locker room not even two hours ago. So she finally decides to play nice and sinks two of her fingers into your pussy. She goes slow, letting you get use to her before going at the pace she prefers.

“Such a pretty pussy on such a pretty girl. Too bad your attitude is so fucking nasty,” it’s rasped out into your ear as you start trying to push your hips into her fingers. Your head pulls back from her shoulder, her teeth pulling your earlobe as you move away. You whimper out at that, eyes looking up into hers pleading for some relief.

“Don’t worry, you can cum this time. Such a desperate whore, aren’t you?” She says it as she speeds her fingers up, her thumb coming to rub tight circles on your clit as her fingers work you up. They’re so much thicker and longer than yours— reaching spots you can only dream of touching by yourself. She’s got you so fucked out you don’t even know what color the wallpaper is.

All you see, taste, hear, and smell is her. You’re drowning in the cocktail of Alessia Russo. The woman who drives you crazy every time you have to be opposite of her on the pitch. You two attract like flies to honey. Sweet, but deadly. It’s always rough and a good game when you two are against each other, but holy fuck you never knew you could feel so good. You two came together in a moment of pure adrenaline, your tension finally boiling over as the emotions from the game did as well.

You both know this is just the beginning. A long list of mistakes you’ll make every time you seem to cross paths now. Like a ritual— no matter who wins or loses. You’ll seek out this form of retribution after a game.

“Alessia! I-I’m go-gonna-“ you can’t even get it out as your mind starts to shatter. You’re drooling out of the corner of your mouth as she fucks every coherent thought out of your brain.

“Go ahead, love. Cum on my fingers for me. Make a mess— just like that. Good fucking girl,” and just like that your eyes snap shut as they roll into the back of your skull. Your back arches off the expensive sheets, as your pussy starts shooting liquid out into Alessia’s palm. You cover your face, cheeks heating up with embarrassment at the squirt staining her sheets below you.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t even know I could do that— I swear!!”

Alessia moans out loud at that, her hands coming up to rip yours away from your eyes. A hungry lust crawling back inside of them. “Are you saying, i’m the first person to make you squirt?”

Your cheeks somehow go even redder as you bite your lip, avoiding her gaze as you shake your head yes in confirmation. The next thing to know you’re on your back. Alessia hovering over you as she climbs up your body. When her thighs make it to your head she quickly turns over, smirk covering her face as she looks down at you from upside down, “Then let’s see what else I can be the first to do to you.”

Your eyes go wide as you realize what she’s about to do. Holy fuck Alessia is going to 69 with you. How the fuck does she know you've never done this?? You have no clue, but before you have time to open your mouth and ask her, she’s sinking her pussy down onto your face. Your tongue seeks out her taste on instinct, your nose bumping into her clit as your eyes rollback.

She moans into your cunt once again, fingertips lightly drawing across your thighs as they shake from the overstimulation.

You know you’re going to falling asleep here, and that your teammates are going to interrogate the fuck out of you tomorrow morning, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when she feels this good and tastes so divine. Hell no! You’re staying right here, consequences and teasing be damned. You’re determined to learn the complete complexity of her lessons, and ace the next test she decides to give you…in whatever shape or form that way be in. Lord help your neighbors, and the poor arsenal teammate who roomed under Alessia. They sure as hell have a good story for the group chat tomorrow.

For now, she is desperately trying to drown out the straight up porn pouring in from upstairs. She tried the radio, the tv, and now a combo of both with two pillows sandwiching her head between them. Praying that you two will be tired after this round…you weren’t.

[corroded-hellfire]

Good Girl - Eddie Munson x Reader

Collaboration with the amazing and wonderful @munson-blurbs 💚

Summary: When Eddie reminds you to take your antidepressants, little does he know that he’s stumbling onto one of your favorite kinks.

Note: This is a reminder to take your medicine if you haven’t today. Make Eddie proud.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), praise kink, corruption kink, allusion to daddy kink, prescribed use of antidepressants

Words: 2.7k

“You’re seriously trying to tell me that Steven Tyler is better than James Hetfield?” Eddie gawks at you with a disbelieving shake of his head, turning off your Aerosmith cassette in protest. 

“I didn’t say that; I said that he has a wider vocal range. Which is factual,” you retort, snapping the tape back in place and cranking up the volume. 

But Eddie’s not buying it; he paces around your room and mumbles under his breath dramatically. Spotting the bright orange bottle on your dresser, he snatches it up and shakes it. “I thought these things were supposed to make your brain work better,” he teases. “Are you sure you took them today?”

It’s meant as a lighthearted joke, but his smile falters when he sees your gaze drop from where he’s putting on his little one-man show. “You did take your bye-bye sad pills today, right?”

You roll your eyes and grab the bottle from his grasp. “They’re called antidepressants,” you grumble, making no effort to hide your annoyance, “and, no; I didn’t.”

“I think my name for them makes them a little more fun,” he says as he flops onto your bed. “But why didn’t you take them?”

There’s no sense hiding anything from Eddie; he’s been your best friend for far too long and can see right through you. “I’m tired of having to rely on medication to be less sad,” you admit. “It’s, well, it’s fucking depressing.” The irony isn’t lost on you.  

Eddie sighs and lifts himself up on one elbow to look at you. “You know, people need medicine in order for their blood pressure to remain stable. Them not wanting to take the meds isn’t going to do anything except have their blood pressure levels either plummet or go through the roof.”

Tilting your head at Eddie, you shoot him an unamused glare. “My blood pressure is fine.”

“Fine,” Eddie says as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “Go tell Wayne to stop taking his blood pressure medication because he should rely on his heart the way it is. We’ll see what happens.”

The daggers you’re shooting at Eddie only get sharper because both of you know that you can’t come up with a retort for that. When you don’t soften, not even a bit, Eddie groans and drops his head back. 

“C’mon,” he whines. “Be a good girl and take your pills.”

All of the muscles in your body seem to lock as one at the term. Heat begins to crawl its way up your body and you can only pray that it doesn’t appear on your face. 

“W-What did you just say?”

“I said,” Eddie starts, as if being annoyed he has to repeat himself, “be a good girl and—oh. Christ, does that…?”

“Shut up,” you snap with far more venom than you intended. “Give me my meds and forget it, okay?”

Eddie’s looking at you like the cat who ate the canary. The smirk on his face is becoming more self-satisfied by the second. “Oh, absolutely not, sweetheart. I just found out that my best friend in the whole world has been hiding her secret kink from me.”

“I said, drop it.” You clench your fists in a feeble attempt to ward off the humiliation. “We’re not fucking, so it’s none of your business what any of my secret kinks are.”

“Kinks? As in more than one? Oh, do go on.” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, but it fades when he sees your eyes welling up with the beginnings of tears. “Look, you don’t have to be embarrassed. We all have things that turn us on. Even pure, chaste, little ol’ me.”

Now that makes you laugh. “Okay, Mr. Celibacy over here…tell me one of yours. It’s only fair.”

“I think it would just have you clutching your pearls, Miss Good Girl.” He winces when you give his ankle a playful kick, but he obliges. “Fine, fine.” He puts his hands up in surrender. “I like the idea of corrupting a girl. Sweet thing getting ruined by a freak like me.”

“You don’t get enough of that shit talk from the meatheads at school?” Idiots like Jason Carver seem to have a never-ending list of insulting nicknames for him, with Freak being their go-to. 

Eddie shakes his head, frizzy brown curls brushing against his cheeks. “No, this is different. I don’t want to be called a freak. I just think the idea of a nice, innocent girl wanting me to corrupt her is hot.”

“Like…a good girl?” You’re trying to replicate his teasing tone from earlier, but it comes out more salacious. You bite your tongue, though the words have already escaped your lips. 

Eddie just chuckles, somehow oblivious to your gaffe. “All right, well played. Laugh it up so we can call it even.”

You unscrew the cap of the bottle and take a pill, washing it down with the water you keep next to your bed. “But, Eds, I took my medicine! See?” You stick out your tongue with an exaggerated aaahh. “Just like a good girl.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow; he’s not sure how to interpret the situation. To be honest, neither do you. “Don’t play this game with me,” he says, suddenly serious. “Because you get to forget all about this, while I’m stuck with blue balls for the rest of the day.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

He nods. “Plenty of experience.” He rubs his sweaty palm along his denim-clad thigh, his eyes never leaving your body. 

“Lucky for you, good girls don’t let their best friend walk around with blue balls, do they?” This is it. It’s now or never. You walk over to the bed and straddle his waist, pressing your hands to his chest. His heart is beating a mile a minute. 

Any semblance of self-control is gone as Eddie hisses, “They certainly fuckin’ don’t.” His lips crash against yours in a hungrily, sloppy kiss. His palms are on either side of your face as he holds you impossibly close. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s grinding up against you, creating a delicious friction between your thighs.  

Eddie wraps a strong arm around your waist and lowers you down to the mattress. Lips never leaving yours, his hands slip up the inside of your shirt, his rough calloused fingers causing goosebumps to break out along your skin. When you’re forced to break apart for air, you take the opportunity to yank your shirt off over your head and toss it somewhere on the floor. Eddie copies your motions, so when he leans back in this time, your bra is the only material between your two chests. 

“So pretty,” Eddie mumbles as his kisses move down to your jaw. One of his hands comes up to cup your breast through your black cotton bra. “Such a good girl for me.”

His words have you whining and arching your back. It forces your chest even more into Eddie’s hand, which has him smirking as he runs his nose up to your ear. He places a soft kiss there before reaching down for the button of your jeans.

“You really do like it when I call you that, huh? Tell me, baby, did you ever think about me calling you that before? Lay here at night with your hand between your legs, picturing me calling you my good little girl?”

An almost pornographic moan slips from your lips as he speaks, and you’re barely able to concentrate on lifting your hips up enough for him to pull your jeans and panties off. 

“Wanna be your good girl,” you mumble, face heating up at the admission. “Just f’you.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Eddie coos, leaning to capture your lips in another soft, slow kiss. Your hands slide down his pale chest until they rest on the handcuff buckle belt that you’ve stared at so many times, always wondering what it would be like to take it off of him. 

“Pants off, Eds,” you say.

“Excuse me?” he says against your mouth. “What was that?”

A small whine tumbles from your lips before you squeak out, “Pants off, please, Eddie.”

“Much better,” Eddie says with a wicked grin. “That’s how good girls get what they want. Take your bra off, baby. I want to see all of you.”

Reaching behind your back to unhook the garment, your eyes never leave Eddie’s form as he strips himself of his jeans and boxers. All the times you’d imagined Eddie naked in your bed…they didn’t do the real thing justice. He’s long and wider than you expected, and even more mouthwatering than you could’ve hoped for. 

“Staring, huh?” Eddie says and you can hear the smirk in his voice before you even look up to see it confirmed on his face. “I’m flattered, sweetheart.”

“‘S bigger than I imagined,” you admit shyly. “Need—I mean, can you please use your fingers first?” 

Eddie nods, running his pointer and middle fingers through your wet folds before pushing them inside you. “Aw, y’already soaked for me, baby? Barely even touched you.” He continues fingering you as he nips at your earlobe. “Y’sure you’ll be able to take my cock, pretty girl?”

The nicknames have your head spinning. “Y-yes, sir,” you choke out, whimpering when he stops moving his thick digits. 

“Well, shit,” he says with a small chuckle. “Looks like you’ve unlocked a kink I didn’t even know I had.” He looks deep into your eyes as he orders, “call me ‘sir’ again.”

“Yes, sir,” you manage, feeling his thumb making slow circles over your clit. “Anything f’you. I’m a good girl f’you, sir.”

Eddie growls as he slides down so his nose is level with your sex. “Not a good girl. You’re my good girl.” 

“Your good girl. Only yours, fuck!” You yelp loudly as he starts sucking on your swollen bud, simultaneously fucking you with his fingers. Your legs tremble, which he takes as a sign to lap at your pussy with more vigor. “R-right there, sir. Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop, sir.” You sound pathetic, but it’s working for both of you. 

You feel the pressure mounting in your core as your orgasm washes over you. “I’m cumming, holy fucking shit, I’m fucking cumming—” But just as the coil begins to snap, he pulls away from you, chin shiny with your slick. 

“What the fuck?”

“Ah ah,” Eddie chides. “Good girls wait so we can cum together.” He spits on his hard cock, fucking into his fist a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. “Y’okay?” he asks, pushing the tip in only after you give him a resounding yes. The feeling of him inside you is one of ecstasy, and you wrap your legs around his to pull him impossibly closer. No one has ever filled you the way he has; no one has ever stretched you so deliciously. 

“Eddie,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. His hands grip your hips as he buries himself within your walls. “I-I mean, sir, y’feel…fuck…feel s’good.”

“Me?” Eddie laughs incredulously as he continues thrusting into you. “No, baby. Nothing compares to how good you fuckin’ feel. Nice an’ tight, aren’t you, angel?”

The new nickname sends shivers of pleasure down your spine, and you bite your lip as you squeak out an agreement. 

“Tell me, my sweet girl,” Eddie growls, cock twitching within you, “what would your friends think if they knew the freak was balls deep in your pussy right now?”

You can only moan in response, and Eddie beams at your apparent wordlessness. 

“Fucked the words right out of you? Cute little head of yours can only think about my cock, hm?”

“Feels…feels…” You wrack your brain for any descriptors for the waves rippling through your body, but you come up empty-handed; rather, empty-headed. 

Eddie’s all-too amused by this, pistoning his hips as he beckons, “Come on; good girls use their words. How’s it feel, baby?”

“So good, Eds. Y’make me feel so good.” It’s barely two sentences, but it placates him. 

“Aw, you like the way my cock makes you feel?” A sneer crosses his face. “Like when the freak’s cock splits you open? How about when I do this?”

Before you can register his words, he’s bringing his thumb to your already overstimulated clit and rubs it while fucking you. “I know you like that, angel. Can feel you getting tighter around me. Fuck, anyone make you feel this good before?”

“N-No, just you,” you manage, another wanton moan escaping your lips. 

“Good girl, using her words f’me.” Your pussy clenches at the praise, spurring Eddie on further. “Just wanna wreck you. No one else can have you but me.”

“Only yours,” you slur in your cock drunk state. Every nerve in your body feels alive as Eddie pounds into you. Your eyes flutter closed so when Eddie leans down and flicks his tongue over one of your nipples, it surprises you. “Oh!”

“Can’t forget about these gorgeous tits, baby girl,” Eddie purrs. “They deserve some love as well.” He laves his tongue up and down the swell of your breast before sucking the nipple into his mouth. A new decibel of a whimper leaves your throat, and it has Eddie smirking around the hardened bud in his mouth. 

Your hand comes up and tangles in Eddie’s hair, fingers ever so lightly digging into his scalp as he gives your nipple a particularly harsh suck. He pulls off with a pop, hips still pounding into yours vigorously. The motion of your bodies causes your bed to shake and your headboard to bang repeatedly and obnoxiously against the wall. 

Eddie gives the same attention to your other breast, exploring the soft skin with his tongue and lips before ravishing your nipple. It only adds to the intense pressure that’s already built up in your core.

“Ed—Sir, please. I need—”

His teeth grazing your nipple has your sentence ending with a strangled gasp. 

“I know what you need, baby,” Eddie coos, leaning up to hover his face over yours. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. Letting the freak use your tight little pussy. And you enjoyed it, didn’t you, sweet thing?”

“Yes,” you whine, practically a sob. “S-Sir?”

“What is it, princess?” Eddie asks, teeth clenched as he tries to stave off his impending orgasm. 

“Want you to cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” he growls. It takes him a second to regain enough composure to be able to respond. “Yeah? That’s what my good girl wants? To have the freak’s cum deep inside of her? Want to feel it dripping out of you and down your legs? Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll fill you up nice and good.”

Eddie bucks his hips a few more times before he cums, fucking his spend up into you with primal groans. “Take it—fuck, take my cum. Jus’ like a good girl.” He doesn’t stop until he’s soft and panting, flopping onto your chest without daring to pull out. 

The two of you lay there for a moment, catching your breaths and relishing in the post-sex glow. A post-sex glow that you’re sharing with your best friend. Your best friend, Eddie Munson, just had his dick inside you while you called him ‘sir’ and he called you ‘good girl.’

“Um, Eddie?” you manage, and he lifts his head as he finally withdraws and lays down next to you. “What…what exactly did we just do?”

“Well, when two people love each other…” He starts to tease you, but his face blanches when he realizes what he’s just implied. “I mean, like, as friends…”

“Right. When two people really love each other as friends, they discover each other’s kinks and have mind-blowing sex.” 

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows. “Mind-blowing, huh? You know that flattery works with me.”

“‘M serious,” you say, trying to redirect the conversation back to your original thought. “Where do we go from here?”

He considers this, tongue poking out between his lips in contemplation. “I’m spent; you wore me out with your insatiable appetite for lust.” He chuckles as you flip him off. “So I say we take a nap, and when we wake up, we can see what other kinks we wanna explore.”

“What other kinks do you have?” You rest your head on his chest and snuggle in as he wraps a protective arm around you, kissing the top of your head. 

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he taunts, yawning as he says it. “Sweet dreams, angel.”

“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”

“Oh, fuck me.”

[taintedcigs]

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER SEVEN: SHE'S THUNDERSTORMS

← prev chapter // next chapter →

✦ summary: in which corroded coffin performs at the hideout (wc: 9.3k+)

✦ warnings — angst, ANGST, arguments, FINALLY SOME DESERVED FLUFF, jealousy, jealous!menace!eddie, the kiddos make an appearance!!!, uhmm kissing,,, eddie and p are an old married couple, drinking, smoking/weed, uhm thats it i think.

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — not proof-read i tried but i cant do it. pls ignore all mistakes. SO VERY SORRY FOR THE WAIT. hopefully this makes up for it. as usual the song is by arctic monkeys, and the other song mentioned is lover you should've come over by jeff buckley. but we'll pretend like its all by corroded coffin so shshsh.

anyway ily all pls interact + like + reblog to support me! i'd also LOVE LOVE to chat about anything abt this series it literally is my baby!! pls dont hesitate to send me an ask about anything mwah thank you for reading💗

series masterlist | series playlist

“Dude, I’m telling you it was not my fault.” Gareth exasperated desperately, hands up in the air in defeat.

But Eddie was quick to shake his head, “You drove her here, how is it not your fucking fault, Gareth?” He spat, bitter and angry. 

“She insisted! She wants to apologize to Pinky!”

“What?” Confusion etched across Eddie’s face. 

With an annoyed sigh, “Yeah, the whole fuckin’ world has to revolve around her,” Gareth muttered under his breath, knowing that saying anything about you would drive Eddie crazy. 

“Watch it,” Eddie warned, mouth downturned in disgust almost immediately. 

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Gareth, I’m not gonna tell you this a second fuckin’ time, okay? Don’t do that shit around me and never say one fucking word about her again, you got that?” He gritted through his teeth, his hand unintentionally clenching into a fist. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“I mean it,” Eddie spat.

“Fine, fine!” Gareth threw his hands up in defeat, both of them downing their drink before scurrying away. 

Shit.

You knew you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but it wasn’t your fault. You were just trying to get a drink for the group, surfing through the sea of people—which was unusual for The Hideout. Still, you guessed the only celebrity from Hawkins was enough to have people swarming in, and Gareth and Eddie happened to be chatting right behind you. 

Even though it stung to hear Gareth talk of you like you were the fucking anti-christ, hearing Eddie defend you like that had that familiar warmth spread through your entire body. And you hated it, you hated the soft spot you’d always have for him, how it would take you back to five years ago when he would be there for you, every single time. 

Fucking great, you had so many people to avoid tonight; Chrissy, Gareth, and Eddie. 

With a sigh, you quickly disappeared into the crowd, carrying a tray of drinks for everyone. Plopping it on the booth with a slight sloosh. 

Everyone reached for it and you were quick to slap away Max, Lucas, and Dustin’s curious hands. “Oh, come on!” Max protested with a groan. 

“Not legal,” you hummed with a narrowed gaze. “Yeah, I’m sure you were legal when you were shotgunning beers and smoking joints like it was your lifeline during senior year,” Lucas mumbled under his breath, quick to get settled into his seat with a huff. 

You gasped dramatically, “Lucas Sinclair!” Exclaiming as he gave you a simple shrug. 

“So what’s new with you and Mr. Rockstar, now?” He teased, and you narrowed your gaze at Max who snickered underneath her hand. 

“Nothing,” You mumbled, shying away from everyone’s gaze on you. 

“Good thing, we can always ask the other party, too,” Dustin chimed in with a smirk, head pointing toward behind you. 

There was a slow tap on your shoulder and you were quick to jerk your body around. 

Of course.

Eddie. 

His soft gaze was dumbly addicting, that boyish grin curled deliciously on his lips while amber eyes took you in wholly. 

His gaze wandered to your figure, the midnight blue dress embracing your figure, accentuating your curves, its hem grazed against your mid-thigh, allowing him to get a glimpse of your sun-kissed legs, simple but exuding how breathtakingly pretty you were. 

He couldn’t place why your brows were so tightly pinched together, or why your arms were crossed against your chest, plump lips downturned with a pout. Still, you looked so pretty, so alluring that he could barely form any sentence. 

Mind captured entirely by you, almost feeling paralyzed while he took you in. 

“H—hey!” He stammered, awkwardly putting his hands in the back pocket of his chained black jeans. He was just him, and oh, god, you were you. 

Plush lips that curled into the prettiest smile, the most captivating eyes, even when you seemingly looked upset, brows pinched together, those glossy lips downturned, you were perfect. 

You ignored Eddie’s greeting, your piercing glare was still not that noticeable to him, all he could think about was how beautiful you looked, and how he was glad that he saw you before his set. He wanted nothing more than to see you watching him perform the songs he wrote all about you. 

“Wow… Uhh—you look… amazing,” He mumbled, breath getting hitched on his throat when he saw your unreadable expression. 

And all you could do was give him a tight-lipped smile. Almost immediately wiping that glow off of his face, face going momentarily blank. 

But he should’ve expected this, he knew you wouldn’t jump into his arms at any opportunity, he deserved this. He needed to do more, he needed to win you back. 

He opened his mouth to speak, desperate, needing your approval, but you interrupted. “I—I’m going to get a drink,” you mumbled, face flushed with heat, you didn’t know how to act either. 

Eddie glanced over at the tray of drinks on the booth, with his head tilted, “there’s a bunch of drinks over there,” he mumbled, he didn’t want you to leave. 

“I can see that, but I still want my own,” you sassed with a narrowed gaze, not letting him talk back once you left to go to the bar. 

Eddie watched your figure leave with a deep sigh, turning to the booth to take one of the drinks. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Yup,” Steve muttered with a nod, and Eddie was quick to give him a death glare. 

“So, will you finally enlighten us on what happened with you and Mrs. Grumpy over there?” Dustin huffed impatiently, grabbing three drinks from the tray now that you were gone, handing the other two to Max and Lucas with a grin.  

“She didn’t tell you guys?” 

“No! Which is a shame because she usually can’t say no to my adorable face.” Dustin blinked quickly, batting his eyelashes while Eddie shook his head at him with a chuckle. 

“Oh c’mon, Eddie, just tell us!” Max let out an impatient huff, her captivating icy blue gaze was pleading in a way that he could never say no to.

These doofuses would always be his weakness. 

“Yeah, Eddie, pretty please?” Lucas added exaggeratedly, mocking Max as she hit him in the chest playfully. 

“Fine, fine!” He sighed, running his hand over his forehead in frustration.  

“But nothing really happened and I don’t think it’s—” When he felt everyone’s gaze piercing through him, he was quick to shut up.  “Okay, okay!” He huffed.  

“She came to my trailer guns ablaze and then just slammed the note against my chest, calling me a coward, and then I told her off—”

“Wait what?” Max was quick to interrupt him, brows pinching together. 

“Yeah, I told her I wasn’t the one who left.”

“Uh, I’m sorry, didn’t you kiss Chrissy in front of her?” Max taunted.

“Yeah, and did you not bring her to Steve’s?” Dustin added. 

With a huff, he turned back to Steve. “Jesus, Harrington, did you gang up all of them against me?” He just gave Eddie a shrug. 

“That’s not even the point! Everything has just become too convoluted with us,” He spat, anger returning quicker than you intended to, while the rest of the gang sipped their drinks with an ‘oof’.

“It’s not convoluted, just tell her how you feel!” Max inquired, gently, almost like she was trying not to tip him off. 

“I—” He took a deep breath. I will. He wished to say, but saying it out loud felt too real. And you were right, he was a coward.

“I’m gonna properly apologize and make things right by her,” he muttered, taking a big sip from his drink. 

“You better hurry up, rockstar,” Steve taunted smugly, the weird face he pulled was making crinkles appear on Eddie’s forehead.

Eddie’s head cocked toward Steve, aggressively. “You better tell her how sorry you fucking are.”

With an all-knowing snort, Steve’s finger accusingly pointed towards something behind him. “Or someone else might swoop in.” 

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Eddie mumbled, rolling his eyes before he turned around with a huff. 

Oh, shit. 

Everyone’s gaze turned toward Steve’s accusatory finger, a slight ‘shit’ escaping from Robin’s lips which Nancy elbowed gently to shut her up. 

Eddie could barely move, his entire face feeling hot and jaw clenching involuntarily, jealousy shooting through him faster than the alcohol swimming in his system. 

Because there you stood, in front of the bar, with your head tilted sideways, a pretty grin sitting on your lips, mellow gaze looking up at the guy in front of you—dirty blonde, hair cut shorter than Eddie’s but almost as long as Steve’s, wearing the most expensive and tidy outfit Eddie had ever seen—making him feel stupid for choosing to wear those black chained jeans. 

His scowl was anything but pretty, brows furrowing in a way that made him look like a complex puzzle, eyeing the way this stranger was touching you. 

“Oh, isn’t that—” Robin spoke up, and the entire table shushed her because they also realized exactly who that was. 

James.

Your ex, not Billy, of course, the other douchebag before Billy. 

He really wasn’t much of a douchebag, a genuine, nice guy, and to make matters worse he was a total gentleman; attributes Eddie would never call a typical high school Jock. 

The relationship only ended because he went to college one too many states away, the distance getting between the two of you, but Eddie always referred to him as ‘the douchebag’ The jealous feeling sunk into his chest even then. 

Rich kid, a jock in high school, older than both of you, someone who had his life together. Everything that Eddie never was. Everything Eddie always wished to be.

But now, seeing you with him made something almost click in Eddie’s head, like he was meant for you as he suited you much better than Eddie ever would. 

He could treat you much better than Eddie would, sure Eddie had his name now, the riches he never had back in high school. But he was still just Eddie.

And he was certain James never kissed Chrissy, he’d never fuck up like Eddie did.

He watched the way your eyes lit up when he was animatedly talking, his gentle touch on your arm, the smile that curled on your lips. 

What if he asked for your number? What if he wanted to reconnect? What if you said yes? Just because Eddie had been a total fucking idiot and couldn’t see what was right in front of him? 

He tried so hard to push the idea of the two of you together back into his mind. To make sure it never left, to make sure it never manifested. 

But the way his jaw clenched and the deadly glare burning through both of you showed that he couldn’t. 

He was jealous, a type of jealousy that quickly translated into anger, one he could almost feel on his skin, hot and prickling rage stabbing into his body, agonizingly slow, making it harder for him to stay glued there and not do anything the more he eyed the hold James had on you. He was standing too close for Eddie’s liking. 

Usually, he’d let this feeling sink back into his mind, take a breather, smoke a couple of cigarettes, and then act like nothing was wrong for the rest of the night while he spent it sulking. Keep that rage caged in his chest, so he could keep his feelings contained. 

But he couldn’t do that this time, no. He wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let you slip through his fingers, not again. He was going to fight for you, he was going to show you that you belonged with him. 

No matter what Mr. Fancy Pants could offer to you, he needed to tell you how he really felt, he needed to make sure you knew. Because even if he could feel the insecurities jabbing into his brain, he always knew, deep down that there was something there between the two of you. Something always left undiscovered because both of you were cowards.

He couldn’t let that happen again, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. 

“Oh, I get the appeal now,” Max murmured, breaking the silence between everyone, and earning a hard glare from Eddie. 

“What? He seems nice, has pretty hair, much better than Steve’s, and that outfit probably cost more than your wedding,” Max spoke bluntly, now earning more than just the hard glare of Eddie, mouth hung open Steve looked offended, Nancy and Jonathan narrowed their gaze, but Robin snickered behind her hand, almost giving Max her approval. 

“Max!” Lucas reacted before them and Max furrowed her brows, a smirk earning her way to her lips. “You’re still my number one Lucas, don’t worry,” She hummed, pinching Lucas’ cheek and ignoring Dustin’s groan.

“Dude, why would you do that?” Dustin whispered, eyeing Eddie worriedly while nudging Steve by his jacket. 

With a dramatic huff, Steve pulled his collar back, “Relax, I know what I’m doing.” 

Eddie’s fingertips absentmindedly traced the rim of the glass in front of him, his eyes never leaving the two of you when he downed the drink, slamming it back on the booth, making everyone flinch. 

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie muttered, a forced chuckle escaping his lips. 

“What are you even going to do?” Robin inquired, almost mocking.

A smirk landed on Eddie’s face. “I’m not going down without a fight, Buckley.” 

“Not this fucking time,” he hissed, almost all the brows of the gang raising at his determination.

“I’m gonna tell her how I feel, and I’m not letting another douchebag ruin this,” Eddie mumbled, and a dumb smirk was placed on everyone’s face almost too quickly.

He was going for it, and the soap opera was continuing, the gang watched in excitement.

“Was he ever really a doucheba—” Dustin’s worries were quick to die down when he threw him a deadly glare.

Without another word, he stormed off to the side of the bar. Quick, too fucking quickly that it almost gave him a whiplash. He didn’t know what had taken over him, eyes burning the back of their figures as everyone else at the table watched him with a proud look. 

But the child-like jealousy he felt within his body was uncontainable, it felt like his face was almost too hot to touch, he was desperate, quite literally. 

The tap on James’ shoulder was anything but gentle, making him turn to Eddie with his pair of brows furrowed, and Eddie’s muscles were quick to tense. 

His dark gaze only softened when he looked back at you, muscles relaxing, and creased brows returning to their normal form. 

The jealousy eased inside of him, not dissipating quite enough, but slowing with one gaze from you.

Back in the booth, with another sip from his drink, Lucas huffed, “Five bucks says they’ll confess by tonight.” 

Robin was quick to snort at him, “You’re trusting them too much, kid, Steve’s ‘little push’ might help them,” She mumbled with a roll of her eyes. “But Jesus fucking Christ, just look at her face, she’s going to go off at him. The most they’ll probably do is have another fight, get just a little bit close to talking about their feelings, and then do it all over again.”

Steve, ignoring Robin’s theories, exclaimed with a smirk. “Ten bucks that Pinky will sleep with Eddie tonight!”

“I second that,” Max said with a grin.

“Steve!” Nancy warned with a disapproving tut. 

“What?” He huffed. 

“They’re kids!”

“We’re nineteen!” Max groaned. 

“I turn twenty next month!” Dustin chimed in. 

“Still!”

“Fine, fine!” Steve sighed with a glare at Nancy, “Then ten bucks that they’ll kiss tonight!” 

“No fucking way.” Robin shook her head. 

“Nah, they’ll at least kiss tonight,” Jonathan said with crossed arms. 

“Are you guys seriously betting on our friends?” Nancy said with a furrowed brow. 

They all nodded vigorously, “Fine,” Nancy muttered. 

“Then I second Steve, ten bucks for them sle-kissing.” Nancy corrected herself, earning a wicked grin from Steve. 

“Come on!” Robin groaned, dissatisfied by Nancy’s answer. 

“I agree with Robin,” said Dustin with a shrug.

“Finally!” Robin exclaimed, hands rubbing together in victory. “Someone with common sense. There’s no way those idiots are going to do anything but fight, just watch her come back here, all fuming about how much she hates Eddie.”

They all shrugged, going back to continue watching the soap opera unravel in front of them. 

“James!” Eddie greeted with faux excitement, a grin playing on his lips, amber gaze remaining on you. With your brows creased, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ you mouthed behind their awkward hug.

He shrugged, and his hands clutched James’ shoulder harshly, making him chuckle awkwardly. “Munson, the man of the hour!” He greeted him with a beaming smile.

He really was too nice for his own good, wasn’t he?

“I’d ask what you were up to, but it seems you’ve been doing just fine, rockstar,” James exclaimed, returning a friendly slap to Eddie on his shoulder—in a much nicer way than Eddie intended with his.

You smiled uncomfortably, your gaze still throwing daggers at Eddie, who was actively avoiding it. “I have to say that last album? Fucking Christ, had it playing over and over again for days.” He beamed again, much to both of your dismay.

That all-knowing smirk on Eddie’s face disappeared, the unexpected compliment seemed to make him uncomfortable, conflicting with the defensive walls he had put up.

“Uhh—thanks man,” he chuckled awkwardly, casting a quick, scrutinizing glance at you, catching the small smirk on your lips.

“What have you been up to?” He asked, curiously, desperate to know what the two of you were talking about, nervous to see if the two of you would do anything more than this.

The confidence in the way James held himself, his slicked hair, his fancy outfits up close, Eddie’s insecurities washed him over once again. Now with that part of his brain convincing him that the two of you would somehow end up together again.

“Oh, you know, I was just in town, got a nice job here, thought I’d stop by to see Corroded Coffin play, been seeing the posters everywhere—great marketing by the way,” He hummed, flashing Eddie a smile. 

And Eddie returned a forced one, lips pursed together in annoyance. “and then I thought I’d get a drink, but then I heard this familiar voice next to me, yelling to the guy next to her to fuck off for attempting to steal her drink, and I thought oh that’s Pinky.” Eddie couldn’t help but not keep his gaze on you, studying your features, almost gauging your reaction, trying to nitpick something to fuel his jealousy. 

“Been a long time, but I’d never miss this one’s sassy voice and that pretty face,” He mumbled with a sly smirk, making Eddie’s face scrunch and almost making him scoff out loudly. 

“Oh, stop it!” You mumbled with a smile, all flattered, and Eddie’s gaze narrowed, jealousy overtaking him again. 

“So you two are… reconnecting for the old times' sake, huh?” Eddie asked through gritted teeth and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“Eddie—”

With a smile, James turned to you, “I mean I’d love to grab a drink, are you free tomorrow?”

“Ah! I wish I could, but I need to help Nancy out with some wedding stuff.”

“How about next wee—”

“She’s busy,” Eddie interjected quickly. 

“Eddie!” You warned with your brows raised, heat rising to your cheeks, what the fuck was he doing? 

“Can I just—steal you away for a minute?” Eddie turned to you with his jealous gaze, hand gently having a hold on your arm. 

“Oh, sure, man!” 

“No!” You and James exclaimed in unison. 

James stared at the two of you with his brows furrowed, both of you breathing heavily, an intense gaze connecting the two of you. With a sigh, you followed him out of the crowd, an apologetic smile thrown toward James. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

You scoffed, “Me? What the hell are you doing, Eddie?” You snapped, naze garrowing. 

“I’m not locking lips with James that’s for sure!”

“Jesus Christ I was not locking lips with—” You halted abruptly, the absurdity of the sentence hitting you like a wave. Taking a moment to breathe, “What are you a child?”

“Well, if pointing out the obvious means I’m a child then so fucking be it!” The words tumbled out of his mouth harshly, almost lost in the din of the bar. 

“The obvious? Do I need to remind you that you were the one who kissed Chrissy?” You accused sharply, your anger returning and cutting through Eddie’s jealousy like a knife. 

“Look, I—I’m genuinely sorry for that, Pinky, I am. I should’ve never done that, it was a mistake—” His voice strained, getting lost amidst the background clamor, their set was about to start and Eddie could careless. 

He took a step closer, but you didn’t budge. “You don’t kiss someone as a mistake, Eddie! You don’t invite them to brunch as a fucking mistake!” You snapped, tone a poignant mix of bitterness, jealousy, and an equal amount of hurt. Teary yet ablaze gaze bored into Eddie's, breaking his heart more and more. 

His shoulders sagged under the weight of your words, the realization of the irreparable damage sinking in. 

He took a step closer, a desperate attempt to bridge the emotional gap.“Will you just listen to me?” Eddie's plea hung in the air, the room seemingly shrinking as you and Eddie’s gaze connected. Your breaths mingled, heavy with unspoken words that pulsed between you. 

Only inches apart, and you couldn’t help it when your gaze drooped down to his lips, then back to his mellow eyes.

“Eddie, this is the fifth fucking time they’ve been calling you.” Gareth’s irritating voice snapped the conversation, loud enough to have you almost jump back, as you threw Gareth a daggering gaze. 

“Just fucking wait for a second,” Eddie spat, trying to dismiss him, but the moment was gone. 

And Gareth wasn’t having it. “No way, dude we go on in like five minutes,” He scoffed, momentarily dragging Eddie by his arm.  

“Fine, fine!” Eddie scowled, shaking off the hold.  

“You should uh— go.” 

“Let me explain,” He almost begged, desperate. 

But with another dismissal, you left. 

Eddie wanted to drop everything and run to you, apologize, tell you what he felt, but somehow, some way he was always managing to fuck up the things between the two of you, now. 

It was like he was fourteen again, his dad letting him know that he always managed to fuck up something good, that he was destined to the Munson name. Like he could never manage to do something right.

Wayne, Jonathan, Corroded Coffin, and Nancy all changed that belief. 

But, you? Oh, god, you made him believe that he was good, you pulled him out of that darkness, you were the first one to believe in him, you were the one who encouraged him. You made him feel like he was on the right path, always. 

And you were the one who mattered, if he didn’t have you believing that now, what else did he have? 

With a hand on his shoulder, Jeff was dragging him back, he stared at your figure leaving, and with a sigh, he headed backstage. 

-

Aurora was the fifth song they sang, and it should’ve gotten to you, the way his gaze didn’t leave yours, how vulnerable he sounded, the way he barely even made eye contact with the guitar he was supposed to be focusing on, that should’ve gotten to you. 

But it didn’t. 

Your glossy gaze and your crossed arms, as everyone else around you cheered for him, did nothing but upset you more and more. 

Everything was so confusing that you couldn’t even make sense of yourself anymore. Yes, you were mad about everything with Chrissy, but you also knew he didn’t know everything that transpired between you and her. 

Chrissy and Billy should’ve been enough for him to not want anything to do with her, yet you still believed him when he told you it was a mistake, that he would’ve never done it if he knew. And the pool… the things he said in the car. Hours ago when you went to his trailer.

Sure, he was sorry, and he said he’d prove himself to you. 

But none of you ever out loud said anything, it had always been a cowardice dance around your feelings, and you were afraid that if this dance ended, then it would be all too real. It would all be over.

A heave of breath exited your lips, attempting to drown away the worries, but they were spiked up the second the song ended and Eddie spoke up again. 

“This next song is for my friends over there, Nancy and Jonathan,” He exclaimed with a grin, finger excitedly pointing towards the two of them, it was the first time his gaze had left yours, involuntarily your head turned to your right. 

“They’re getting married this weekend, and were kind enough to let me and my dipshit friends play,” He said with a sheepish grin, and Nancy and Jonathan shyly smiled at him, waving him off in a dismissive way, 

“So this is for the soon-to-be newlywed couple, and for the special girl next to them, who’s mad at me for a lot of reasons, and she has every right to be, I was a total ass.” He earned chuckles and some cheering from the crowd, who unintentionally all faced you. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but hey, maybe this might help my case, huh?” He said with a grin, his gaze was dangerously addicting, full of promises, and you couldn’t help the way it made stupid butterflies appear in your stomach. 

It was so easy for him to get you like this, you were starting to feel pathetic. 

Speechless, and the heat quick to rise to your cheeks, you were trying to ignore the whispers and stares from the crowd, but it was basically impossible. 

The opening chords were enough to rattle your memory, the dreamy guitar riffs from Eddie sweeping in echoing the space as if it was just the two of you. 

You knew exactly which song he was playing. 

And the vocals, added with Eddie’s smooth, sultry voice were enough to have your heartbeat raising making you almost feel small, haziness overtaking your mind. 

And it only brought back one memory to your mind. 

FIVE YEARS AGO.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA.

Another job interview, another opportunity you feel like you have missed.

It hadn’t been long since the two of you had arrived in Los Angeles, yet every passing minute felt like you had been wasting away your time, you needed a job, and no one in stupid LA was hiring you. 

A groan escaped your lips when you plopped yourself onto the couch, right next to Eddie who was way too into scribbling something into a notebook. 

Wait… was he using the…? 

“Is that… the notebook?” Your eyes lit up happily. It was such a small, stupid thing. 

But for you, it was important. That notebook was important. And you never actually thought he’d care about it, but it looked like he was carrying it in his back pocket. 

“Is that a crime?” Eddie sassed.

With a scoff, you narrowed your gaze. “No, doofus! I just didn’t think you’d actually use it.” 

Almost taken aback Eddie sat up straight on the couch, knees brushing against yours now. “Are you kidding? Half of this bad boy is filled with lyrics.”

“What is the other half made of?” You asked with a dangerous grin. 

“You’d have to kill me to find out.” Eddie enunciated dramatically, tone drooping lower to mimic mystery. 

“Oh, come on!” You huffed, curiosity getting the best of you. Scooting closer to him, you pouted. “Can’t you at least give me something?” You asked, all doe-eyed, tone sticky sweet, in a way that always got to Eddie. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” He groaned, almost melting into you, “You know I’ll give you anything if you ask that sweetly.”

You grinned happily, clapping your hands together in victory once he ripped up a page and handed it to you. 

“That is the chorus of a song I’m working on,” He mumbled, eyes nervously following you, waiting to read your reaction.

She's thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She's thunderstorms

Your eyes blinked quickly to process everything. It had been not too long since the both of you had come to L.A., Eddie was desperately trying to send the band’s best material to any label who was willing to sign them. 

And you had just gotten out of a horrible relationship, things had not been steady enough for the two of you to ever discuss anything about your feelings, always tip-toeing around it, but too scared to ever actually delve into it. 

Yet, you could tell this was about you, something about being described as thunderstorms stuck to your mind, maybe he somehow meant it as good. But all it reminded you of was destruction. And he wasn’t wrong. 

It was like everywhere you went, something horrible followed, exactly like a dark cloud looming over, waiting to strike anyone daring to be near you. 

Your hand flew to your mouth, teeth grazing through your nails anxiously. “Who’s this thunderstorm girl?” You asked, masking your nervousness with a brittle smile. 

He snatched the notebook back, ignoring your little huff. “Someone I went to school with,” He answered cooly and then leaned further into your face with a grin. “I was drivin’ around one day, then saw this girl’s car on the side of the road, to be nice I helped fix her car but then she became totally obsessed with me.” He recalled the first time he met you, animatedly.

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Yeah, didn’t leave me alone for years.”

With a narrowed gaze, “Asshole,” you bantered.

“That’s so weird,” He hummed with a smirk “That was her favorite nickname for me,” quipped Eddie and you stuck your tongue at him childishly. 

With a slight push on his elbow, he drew closer to you. “So… what did you think?” He coaxed nervously, you could tell it was important to him, yet being this close was making your mind spin. 

“I like it,” you muttered, unable to face his beautiful features when he was so close, and your mind spinning with the fact that Eddie thought of you as destructive, too.

“That’s it? You… just like it?”

“No that’s not it, it’s just—” With a sigh you snatched back the notebook from his hands. “It’s just… isn’t this bad?” 

“What?” His brows creased together in worry, “W-which one did you not like I can change it-” You shook your head, interrupting his anxious ramble.

“No! I love all of them! But describing… uh—this girl,” Tip-toeing around it, causing Eddie to smirk. “As thunderstorms? Isn’t that bad?” 

“No, not at all. It’s a metaphor.” He shook his head, explaining gently.

“She embodies the essence of thunderstorms—unpredictable and explosive. She has the power to create chaos and destruction, and on the surface that might sound bad, yet within that destruction she sparks a new life. You know, making it so much better,” He hummed, licking his lips.  

“And she also feels like a thunderstorm, intense and electrifying, shaking up your life, in the best way possible.”

“Oh. Wow,” You mumbled, gaze turning mellow with how well he explained everything, heart melting with how he saw you, not just from the surface, like he could peel the intricate layers of your existence, appreciating every part of it. 

“Uhh, then I love that actually,” you concluded with a smile, attempting to mask the fluttering in your stomach. Did he really see you in that way? 

Did he really see you as someone worth all of this? You tried to ignore the tears prickling in your eyes, begging to pour out, but you weren’t going to ruin this moment. 

You didn’t deserve him. In the slightest. He didn’t deserve to get caught up in your bullshit. You shouldn’t have dragged him here. You were being selfish, but, god, did it feel good. 

To finally feel safe, to finally have someone take care of you, to finally have someone you could rely on. After everything, didn’t you at least deserve to be a little selfish? 

But that feeling ate away at you, even though you shook it off for the moment, it was eventually going to return. And it did. 

“You do?” His brows raised in surprise, it made you want to fuck all and just grab his cheeks and kiss him, lips plush together until the two of you couldn’t breathe. 

But you couldn’t afford that, you couldn’t afford the feelings, nor could you afford the fallout. You couldn’t lose him. 

“Mhmm,” You answered with a broken smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He always did.  

“She sounds special.”

“She is,” Eddie agreed, eyeing you with a worried look. “Very, very special,” He repeated, he could tell something was off. 

But it was okay, because he was here for you now, and he wasn’t going to leave. 

NOW:

Suddenly the room felt suffocating. 

Eddie’s gaze on you felt mocking.

It was stupid, he had just dedicated the song to you, yet all your mind could focus on was everything bad that had happened. Ruining everything good that happened with him. 

How were you even going to be with him if you couldn’t even handle this?  

Fear, trust issues, being afraid of not knowing how things were going to go, if you would fuck this up too, then that was it for you. No one else could compare, and you knew that. 

Maybe if you just knew that the same went for Eddie, if you just could see that the five years you spent apart had been just as hell-ish for him if not more. The constant thoughts in his mind reminded him that he could never be over you, truly. Sure, it hurt less now, but the scar was still there, scabbing the second someone mentioned you. The realization of knowing no one could ever be you etched onto his skin. 

“Hey… you okay?” Steve’s concerned voice snapped you out of your thoughts, Eddie’s voice served as a background noise while his gaze was still stuck on you. 

“Y-yeah, I just—” You faltered, face growing numb and anxiety increasing when you suddenly needed some air. 

Too much, all of it was too much. 

Eddie could almost sense it, he grew worried at your frowny brows and your tear-streaked gaze. 

“I’ll be right back,” you mumbled, body jerking back scurrying out quickly when you ignored everyone calling out for your name. 

Eddie’s vocals almost halted, missing a few notes on the guitar before Gareth was quick to snap him back to it. 

His head cocked toward your direction, desperate, nearly begging to stop the show, but all of them shook their head quickly, and once Eddie turned back to see the look on Jonathan and Nancy’s face, he realized he couldn’t do this to them. 

This was his friends' wedding, and he owed this to them. When the song ended, he was quick to mouth to the others, “After the next song, we’re taking a break.” It wasn’t a request, it was final.

And frankly, the rest of them were too tired out to even argue with a hot-headed Eddie.

“So how is your plan working, dingus?” Robin jeered at Steve.

“Shut up.”

There were a couple more people outside, all leaning against the wall, chuckling while talking over each other loudly, the smoke of their lit cigarettes quick to take over your senses. 

With a cough, you leaned further away from them, mind still unraveling what had just happened. You didn’t even know what was happening anymore. 

You wanted to smoke, hand itched to reach for the pocket of your jacket and light one to take away your stress, but you could barely breathe as it was right now. 

A light tap on your shoulder snapped you away from your thoughts. 

Who was it now? 

You huffed loudly when your head cocked back.

Fucking great. 

Chrissy.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” You pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance, this just had to be your luck, your feet picked up quickly, hand quick to reach for the door and go back inside.

“Please, please don’t leave,” She pleaded.

Your hold on the door remained, barely glancing back at her, “Just leave me alone!” You snapped. 

“I just want to apologize, please, then I’ll leave you alone, forever.”

“Please, just five minutes.”

You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. 

Your hold on the door faltered, and with a deep sigh, you turned to her. “Fine.”

“Five minutes,” You warned, your patience already wearing thin.  

Her face lit up, blinking a few times to make sure she heard you correctly. “O-oh, okay, good,” She cleared her throat.

“First of all, I’m sorry, for everything, for what I said five years ago, for what I did with Billy, for using what he did to you like a fucking joke. For w-what I said about your parents.” She stammered.

“It’s too late, I know, I fucked up, I shouldn’t have done any of those things, you didn’t deserve it. You deserved a better friend, someone like you.” She almost looked at you like she was waiting for your approval, gauging your reaction, your expressionless face encouraged her to continue. 

“I was bitter, jealous. Which isn’t a fucking excuse, I know, I was just—” she took a deep breath. “You were everything I wanted to be, careless, had all the boys' attention, and you didn’t even have to try, you didn’t have to do anything, and they’d just fall at your feet. And I was stupid, bitter, and insecure enough to envy that.”

“That’s not my problem, Chrissy.” You spat out with your gaze narrowing, you couldn’t handle her pity party right now.

“And really, you wanted to be me? Chrissy I didn’t have parents, my boyfriend was a narcissistic asshole.I was broke.” You scoffed with an ironic chuckle, shaking your head in anger.

“I know, I know. It was stupid, and I was stupid, and you didn’t deserve any of that.” Sincerity. Something you haven’t seen from her in years.

“I just wanted to tell you that none of it was your fault.” Now your gaze narrowed, a chuckle rolling on your lips. 

You opened your mouth to speak, to protest. “No, I know you’re going to say you didn’t think that but I know you do. Even though you hate me, which I don’t blame you, I know you like the back of my hand, you blame yourself, you always did it. And I’m telling you shouldn’t because it was all my fault. A-and I shouldn’t have done whatever I did with Eddie, I practically took advantage of him like he did to me and then got mad at him, oh god, I’m such a fucking bitch, aren’t I?”

Your eyes blinked quickly to process all of it. Her apology didn’t mean anything, her words didn’t mean anything. But deep down, you knew she was right, even if you wouldn’t admit it. Because you spent many nights blaming yourself, for even opening up to them in the first place. 

“First of all, breathe,” you mumbled with annoyance.  

“Second of all, yes you are,” you huffed. 

“And, taking advantage? What do you mean?” 

“Some fucked up part of me wanted him because I knew you wanted him back then, a-and he was right there and he was being nice to me and—” Chrissy took a deep sigh, big blue eyes staring into you knowing that you were not going to like what she was going to say.

“I should’ve known.”

With puckered brows, you crossed your arms against your chest. “Known what?” 

“That he was still hung up on you,” she muttered.

You were quick to roll your eyes, “Chrissy—”

“No, no just listen.” But she wasn’t going to let you spiral.

“Look you were dumb enough then—” You threw her a glare, so daggeringly cold that she stopped.  

“Sorry,” she muttered before continuing, “Look, the two of you wasted a lot of time. And I know it’s funny hearing this from me because I took part in it, but I’m only saying this because he’s a nice guy, even though I don’t particularly like him right now, he’s a nice guy, and you deserve someone like him.” She enunciated, azure hues embodying such sympathy that had you taken aback.

“You loved him back then, too. I could see it, and I could see it in him, too. That’s what I always wanted, and maybe that’s why he intrigued me so much. But I knew he never got over you.” 

You could feel your heart skip a beat, it wasn’t anything new, but hearing this from her, it meant something. 

You needed to take control of your feelings, and hearing Chrissy’s words was doing nothing but fuel them more. “Chrissy stop—”

“No, Pinky! He told me! He told me it was you! It had always been you!” She exclaimed, her face growing a nice pink color as you stood frozen.

Your brain felt mushy, rest of your body felt so warm, but still that anger lingered. Why couldn’t he just tell you this? Why couldn’t he just show you?

“What?” You mumbled, brows pinched together.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, sighing at your reaction.

“Look, I just wanted to tell you this, and tell you to get your head out of your ass. I know I’m the last person you wanted to hear this from, but I had to at least make one thing right for you because I know I fucked up every other thing.”

You wanted to tell her to stay the fuck out of it, you wanted to tell her it was all because of her. That she basically ruined your life. But it wasn’t true. It wasn’t all her, it was Billy, too. It wasn’t all her, Eddie played a part in it, too. 

But you weren’t going to waste your breath, you didn’t need to blow up in her face for her to know she was wrong, she needed to let that feeling sink in. You weren’t going to forgive her, and you didn’t need to make a fuss about it to feel real. 

This was it. A closure. 

“I’m sorry, for everything. And I know that you won’t forgive me, but that’s okay. I’m sorry, but please listen to what I just said. Please don’t get in your head and try to ruin something this perfect, okay?”

A peaceful smile appeared on your lips, and you took a deep breath. “You’re right, I won’t forgive you.” You weren’t going to give her any satisfaction or approval, her words didn’t mean a thing. 

“Goodbye, Chrissy.” You mumbled. 

You could see her stammering, struggling to open her mouth, because she couldn’t say anything else, and this is what she promised, five minutes. It was over. 

You backed yourself against the wall, fingers fishing out the pack of cigarettes sitting in the pocket of your jacket. 

Without having anything else left to say, she left. And you heaved a sigh of breath, the tip of your cigarette smoldering when you lit it. 

You inhaled with eyes squeezed shut, head swirling with much to think about. But at least you were alone. Finally, some space for you to think, and to lay out a little bit of your stress with the most unhealthy outlet.  

And of course, that peace lasted for about a few minutes, just when you had finished your cigarette, squishing the remains on the nearest trashcan, Eddie appeared, lightly squeezing your arm to have your attention.

“What?” You snapped when you saw him, eyeing the way he looked taken aback. 

His hands held up in front of his chest in defeat, clearly not understanding your sudden rage. The laughter around you had died, people who were smoking outside the bar were clearly more entertained by your drama. 

With a huff, you dragged Eddie away from it all, still close to the bar but far away to not have any other distractions. 

He sighed, brows etched with worry. “Why did you leave?”

Your hand flew to your forehead, trying to calm your nerves, trying to clear your mind. “Eddie, are you kidding me?” You scoffed, arms wrapped across your chest defensively. “You can’t just drag me away from James, dedicate songs to me and—”

His forehead puckered. “Why not? They’re all about you anyway,” he said with a sly smirk. 

“Aurora, She’s Thunderstorms, Zero, Forget Her, Resolve, Fool, two fucking albums, all dedicated to you, you know that.”

“These notes? These stupid notes I’ve been carrying?” He huffed loudly, hand quick to fish inside of his back pocket, aggressively flipping through the pages. “Even if every nerve in my body were numb I’d still be able to feel her.” He turned the page toward you before flipping again. 

“I have tried to forget you but I can’t, you invade my dreams, my mind, my whole fucking life. You’re stuck in me and I don’t have the heart to get you out.” He shook his head, reciting it all like it was nothing, but you felt all of it. 

His notes making you dizzy. His words scrambling your mind like never before. 

“She’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever. That one is uh—in a song, too,” he mumbled, cheeks flushing with how passionate he was getting, and you held your breath, it’s like you were staring into his soul. 

Stark naked. Laying bare, he really was doing this. And you didn’t want him to stop, even though your mouth suggested otherwise. 

“And so much more embarrassing stuff that I don’t want to include to not ruin my chances,” he muttered with a lazy smile, and you hated that you could feel it in your skin, the flutters, stomach flipping in the best possible way. 

“All fucking about you. Because it was you, from the moment we met.”

“S—stop,” your mouth betrayed you, it was the furthest thing from the truth, and you needed to hear more. You needed the reassurance, you needed him to convince you. More than anything in the world. 

But it was all so scary, and he was so close to you that you could feel his passion integrated into your veins. 

“Why, Pinky, why should I stop? Why do we have to tip-toe around each other, huh?” He was desperate, eyes flashing with a newfound of desire for you, he wasn’t going to let it go this time.

And it scared you, him being this determined, getting so close to what you actually felt was making your skin crawl, because the way you could feel your heart thumping against your ribcage wasn’t normal. What he was making you feel wasn’t normal. “Because w—we can’t!”

“We can’t what?” He complained, a deep sigh escaping his lips. 

“W—we can’t do this, you can’t—”

He shook his head with his brows puckered. “Who are you to decide that? I want to, I so badly want to,” He spat, taking a step closer to you, face merely inches away from you. 

His gaze was dangerously inviting, those alluring amber eyes melted into yours, making your pupils dilate, breath hitching as you struggled to keep him away. “Please, Eddie, d—don’t.”

You gulped, hand raising to put a space between the two of you, but it was impossible. He was in your veins now. “Too much has happened, you with Chrissy and—” You didn’t even know what you were blabbering about, just anything to stop your feelings from getting out. 

“Chrissy was a mistake!” He retorted with a hiss. He hated that you saw Chrissy as a problem between the two of you. Yes, he fucked up, but it really was a mistake, he’d take it all back in a heartbeat if he could. 

Your gaze narrowed, that pettiness returned when you scoffed. “Which time, when you kissed her or when you brought her to brunch?”

Eddie let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head when he looked at you with a dumbfounded look. “Jesus fucking Christ…” He took a breather. “I can’t believe you’re doing that again,” he mumbled, realizing that it wasn’t going to be easy to get you out of this mindset. 

It was going to be hard, to convince you of anything, and he understood that, he had trust issues himself, but he wasn’t going to back down. This was it.

You crossed your arms against your chest, gaze avoiding him momentarily. “Doing what?” You muttered.

“You just— you get scared when things get serious, running away when it gets just even a little bit too real,” He scoffed, angling closer to you, fingers ruffling through his curls in frustration.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah! You call me a coward and fucking look at you!” He snapped, hands gesturingly pointing to you.

“Scrambling just at the thought of us being together.” He argued, some part of him feeling a bit insecure, that maybe you didn’t want this. But, no, he saw that glint in your eyes, he knew the little angry twitch on your lips. You felt the same. And all you needed was a little push. 

You breathed, mind scrambled and trying so hard to convince yourself to leave. “T—that’s not it, you—uh you just don’t get it!” You complained with a huff. 

Another step closer. One more step and his lips would be on yours, Eddie knew this, you knew this. His gaze momentarily drooped down to your lips, then back to your dilated pupils. 

“Then make me understand, let me help you, don’t fucking run, not this time.” It was a little jab, but something needed to get you to spill, he was playing all the right cards and you were getting overwhelmed.

“J—just stop!”

“Why? Fucking why? Tell me one good fucking reason as to why we shouldn’t try it, we never even gave it a chance!” He ranted, veins in his forehead popping with how much he was trying to keep it all together. And you weren’t even trying. 

“We wouldn’t work, okay?” 

He shook his head. “Not good enough,” He argued. 

“W—we’re on two different paths now, Eddie.” You didn’t have any good excuses, he was right. 

“Not good enough.” Once again, that same arguing tone. 

You huffed. “Too much time passed and—”

“Not fucking good enough!” He cursed, hands landing on your shoulder to keep you in place, and your cheeks flushed immediately, while still trying to deny it. You were pathetic.

“Stop being a fucking coward!” He seethed, eyes fiery and red. 

Why were you insisting on being so fucking stubborn? You were driving him crazy, yet it wasn’t going to stop him. 

Coward is what had you scrambling. Because you knew he was right. “Fuck you,” You spat, body jerking quickly to leave, feet picking up quickly as Eddie groaned loudly.

So. Fucking. Stubborn. 

He was quick on his feet, letting curses slip past his lips before he yanked you to him, earning a small gasp from your lips before you finally faced him. 

Gaze mellow, but just as fiery, your furrowed brows and dilated pupils only encouraging him more and more. Flutters in your stomach had never left, your skin was burning, everywhere, but specifically on the hold he had on you. 

You didn’t manage to utter anything else, you couldn’t because he had you this time. There was no running away from it, your heart was hammering so hard inside of your chest that you were sure he could hear it. 

His hold on your arm was firm but somehow gentle, letting you know that he wasn’t going to let you go.

You opened your mouth, wanting to speak, but he interrupted, his hands now firmly cupping your cheeks, squishing you with force, and you couldn’t help the contended sigh that left your parted lips. “I’m not letting you run away, not this time,” He mumbled, words sounding like silk falling from his lips, all you could do was gaze into him. He stood inches away from you, breath fanning against your face.

He licked his lips desperately, gaze drooping to your candy-glossed, needy lips. Face so close that you could feel the desperation radiating off of him. And you shared it. You managed to take a quick breath before his hand fisted your hair and his mouth crashed down to yours.

He pressed you harder against his chest, breathless, your lips molded together, a perfect fit. And he could taste the Cosmopolitan on your tongue, a tinge of alcohol mixed with your sweetness, making his head spin, a taste he realized he’d never have enough of. 

Those little thumps your heart did were now out of control, possibly pounding a million beats a second. His small stubble scratched against your chin, rough, it should’ve made you uncomfortable yet all it did was make you kiss him harder, shutting up your brain as your mouth replied to him, kissing him back with just as much force, you melted into him, melted into his hold, and you let him engulf you, fully, completely. 

Plushy lips slightly parted apart, his tongue slipped past between your teeth, your hand finding its way to his hair, feeling the curly strands between your fingers, it’s softer than you expected and your lips parted to let out a slight whine as you tugged at them.

All those years of wishing, all those years of wanting, yearning, and needing exploded into this. Kissing like your lives depended on it, chests pressed against each other, Eddie’s hand slipping to your waist, desperately tugging you closer to him as if that was even possible. 

Your heart exploded into your chest, his tongue not wavering the chance to explore yours, sucking on it, greedily, desperately. 

The background noises disappeared, the cackles of the girls, the booming music coming from inside of the bar, and the honks from the busy street. They ceased to exist and it was just you and him. Feeling each other, completely, fully. 

You knew at some point one of you had to pull away, but none of you dared to, it was just pure desire, a hunger that couldn’t be sated. 

All the years spent yearning and pining, acting like two fucking idiots. 

He wanted to breathe you, drink you in, and he wasn’t intent on letting you go. Ever.

You from five minutes ago who wanted to refuse him, refuse this was an absolute fucking idiot. Gone. You tasted like the sweetest honey and he tasted like everything you wanted and more. It’s even needier than the first kiss, more sure, it’s like a promise. 

This is it. Both of you can feel it. This finally changes everything. 

final authors note — uhhhh so yeah... if yall wanna talk about that my asks r open LMAO.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇- PT.2 C.4-forget her

Taglist: @cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow

Previous part, Series masterlist

The silence was awkward, the tension between the two of you obvious. Kiara couldn’t wait to get off this damn truck.

Once the truck stopped at its destination, the three of you all hopped out. You looked around.

“Come on. My boats down here.” He said, you and Kiara followed him down to the dock.

“Make sure your shoes are off.” He said when he jumped in.

You and Kiara were still on the dock, hesitant.

“Okay, we should have enough juice to get us to Saint Lucia, no problem.”

“Hey, get in the boat.” He grunted out to Kiara and you, looking at you now.

“You’re not gonna pull anything if we get in?” You asked him, your arms crossed.

“No, I’m not gonna pull anything, okay? I’m trying to do you guys a solid here. You really wanna be back there with Singh or do you wanna be somewhere safe?”

Neither of you answered.

“Now can one of you please help me with the bowline?” He asked her.

You followed her into the boat, and you went over to the bowline. You began to undo the knot when Kiara tapped your shoulder.

“Let me do it.” Kiara whispered, glancing at Rafe and back to you.

“What? Okay…” you shrugged, ignoring it for now. You stood behind her as she went over.

“I can’t get it!” She yelled.

“What?” He asked, looking at her now.

“I need some help!”

“Goddamn, do I have to do everything?” He hopped down, over to the cleat

When he undid it, you didn’t see Kiara behind you now, she ran into you, pushing you off instead of Rafe.

Rafe looked at her, confused. Before he even had a chance, she was pushing him off as well.

You and Rafe fell down into the water, gasping for air. She shouted your name.

“Go, Kie! Go!” You motioned, the water splashing as your hands hit it.

“I’m sorry, y/n!”

“Kie! Hey! Kie, where are you going?” Rafe shouted.

“I’ve gotta help my friends!” She shouted back, driving the boat away from the two of you as Rafe shouted at her.

After his tantrum, you swam to the dock, your once white shirt now see through.

“Oh. My. God.” You grumbled, looking down at yourself, putting your arms over your chest.

Could this day seriously get any worse?

Rafe swam soon after, his fist clenched and his head pounding.

He looked you up and down, before walking away. You followed behind.

—————-

“Wait, where’s my sister?” Jj asked Kiara when he pulled away.

She grimaced, her face falling.

“Kie. Where is she?” His smile was gone now, his confusion and anxiety replacing it.

“I… we ran into Rafe. I didn’t trust him, but she was in my way… she’s alive. But…” Kiara admitted, looking shamefully at the ground.

“You mean she’s with that fucking psychopath right now?”

“I wanted to go back to her, Jj, I would have but… she told me to go.”

“We’re not leaving this island until we find her.”

—————

“This is exactly why I always fuckin’ say never trust them.” He mumbled mostly to himself.

“She doesn’t trust you, obviously.” You told him. Your arms were crossed over your body, trying to shield it.

“After I helped you both escape?”

“I can barely trust you.”

“Seriously? Are you still mad about-“

“Don’t even, Rafe.” You warned.

“I apologized, I’m sorry, I don’t know what else you want me to do!” He exclaimed.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’m an asshole? I was gonna save your ass until she pushed us off-“

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with you again.” You told him, a small frown on your face as you walked off the dock.

He rolled his eyes at your complaining, turning to you suddenly and putting his hands on your shoulders, his eyes boring into yours. “I’m sorry. Okay? Now could you please, just bear with me for a second?”

“No.”

“I’m being serious, y/n. I’m your only hope at getting back to Kildare.” He pointed to himself, taking one hand off of you.

“I have a plan but you have to listen to me.” He continued. You sighed.

“Fine. But as soon as we get back-“

“You’ll never have to talk to me again.” He said. But the thought of it had him reeling. He would make you fall in love with him again, no matter what it would cost.

He took his hands off your shoulders. Looking behind you, he noticed a man staring at your wet shirt, your bra visible under it.

“You got a staring problem?” Rafe barked at him quickly, you turning around to the man now as well. The man quickly turned around, and Rafe shook his head.

“C’mon.” He told you. He ended up buying, or rather stealing a jacket for you, putting it over the cold, wet shirt you had on.

You both walked in silence through the island, Rafes hands shoved into his pockets.

He looked at a man, stopping in his tracks. You furrowed your eyebrows and Rafe just gave you that ‘trust me’ look.

“Hey, man.”

“Huh?”

“Sorry. Sorry to bother you. Um.. I have the perfect gift for your wife. It’s like a great price too.”

“Yeah?”

“So this, all through here is where all the tourists shop, but the real deal is like right back here.” He pointed to an alleyway, you quickly catching onto his idea.

“It’s a great local spot.” You chimed into the conversation, a small sweet smile on your face as you looked at the man.

“I don’t know..” he hesitated.

“Just trying to help you out.” Just real quick, you wanna..?”

“Okay.” He agreed, you followed him.

“It’s got like some of the best custom jewelry on the island. It’s incredible.” Rafe told the man, leading him to the alley.

“Uh, just right back here.” You followed them.

You held the man back, putting him in a chokehold against the wall.

“Do we have to?” You asked Rafe, looking at the petrified man and back at Rafe.

“It’s not that hard.” Rafe groaned, punching the man in the face, knocking him out. He cracked his knuckles, watching you set the man gently onto the ground.

Rafe grabbed his hat, and you dug into his pockets, grabbing his wallet.

“So sorry, so sorry.” You mumbled as if he could hear, walking away from the body.

“Where are we going now?” You asked Rafe.

He nodded to a boat in the distance.

“All right, all aboard to Guadeloupe.”

“How you doing, boss?” Rafe asked, you following behind.

“Good. How are you?”

“Living the dream. You got some sun since you took this photo, man.”

You handed the man your fake id, it checked out.

“Enjoy Guadeloupe.” He told the both of you. You gave the man a smile and walked next to Rafe.

“What the hell are we gonna do in Guadeloupe?”

——

“Fuck no, Rafe! He- he-“ you pointed to the man sitting outside.

“I know, I know what happened, but you gotta listen. This is the only place we have to go right now, and- and I can’t have either of you freaking out on each other- ‘aight?”

“I’m out of here, Rafe. I’m done with this shit.” You told him, turning around but he grabbed your wrist.

“You have nowhere to go. Please. It will only be for a little, then I can find you a way back to the outer banks.”

You groaned, looking at the man outside and back at Rafe.

“Fine. But is there like a phone I can borrow, because-“

“I’ll get you a phone. Just please, stay here for a little.”

Rafe went outside to Ward, Ward nodded over to you, standing inside, running a hand over your face.

“What’s she doing here?”

“Long story. I just- she has no where to go and-“

“Do you trust her?” Ward asked him suddenly.

Rafe furrowed his eyebrows.

“Do you trust her?”

“I- I don’t know- I-“

“Do you or do you not, Rafe?”

“I.. I do. She’s not gonna do anything, she has nowhere else to stay and it’s too dangerous here for her to. Please. Just let her stay.”

Ward sighed. “She can stay, but the second I see her try anything-“

“She won’t.”

They talked for a while, Rafe sitting down next to him.

“Theres something I need you to do for me right now, okay?”

“Name it.”

“I need you to go back to the Outer Banks. Kildare.”

“Why?” Rafe asked, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“There’s nothing there for us, not anymore. I need you to wrap everything up for me, all right? I need you to see the businesses, sell the rental properties.” He paused. “I need you to sell Tannyhill.”

Rafe spluttered, looking at Ward in disbelief. “Wait, we’re selling Tannyhill? Is that what you said?”

Ward looked to him, nodding. “Yeah.”

“W-why? What are you talking about?”

“It’s not our home anymore. This is. This is our home now.” He leaned back in the chair. “And it’s a clean slate. It’s a new beginning, a new path. And I need to take a bigger role, all right? You can forget about her.” He nodded to you again. “Can I count on you for that?”

Rafe hung his head down, looking at you from the window. You stared back at him.

He can do everything else, he’s just not too sure he can just forget you though.

“Of course, yes. Of course, dad.” He said, looking back at his father.

“Yeah, all right, good. Listen, I got some papers inside. I’m gonna bring them. We’re gonna go over them. Tell you what to do, and while you’re gone, I am going to be taking that cross and looking into it.” He stood up, Rafe standing as well now.

“We have that cross because of you. You got it for us, and you saved it. I just need you to be careful. You get in there, handle this business, drop her off, and you get back here safely. All right? You’re a Cameron. That still means something.”

When his dad went into the house, he gave you a small nod and smile. You just kept looking at Rafe through the window, and he stared right back.

[berberriescorner]

“Haunted Hearts”

Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Black!Reader.

Summary: Simon “Ghost” Riley returns home, haunted by his past missions, creating a rift with his wife. She confronts him, demanding honesty and connection.

Word Count: 1,000+.

A/N: I don’t own these images. Just created the mood board my loves🩵.

Inspired By🩵:

songs listed can be found below:

✨Apple Music✨

✨Spotify✨

The house was eerily quiet, save for the muffled sound of heavy boots hitting the wooden floor. Simon “Ghost” Riley trudged through the dimly lit hallway, his shoulders hunched under the weight of an invisible burden. You were sitting in the living room and noticed the tension radiating from him as soon as he entered. It had been like this since he returned from his last mission—every day a battlefield of its own.

"Simon, we need to talk," you said, voice steady but laced with worry.

He halted, his back to you. "Not now."

"No, we need to talk now. You've been shutting me out since you got back. It's like you're not even here."

Simon turned slowly, his eyes hard and unyielding behind the mask of his stoic expression. "Maybe I don’t want to be here," he snapped.

You flinched at his harsh words but stood your ground. "Don't say that. You don't mean it."

"Don't tell me what I mean," he growled, stepping closer, fists clenching at his sides.. "You have no idea what’s going on in my head.."

"Then tell me! Let me in, Simon. I'm your wife, not some random stranger."

The living room was dimly lit, the flicker of candles casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air was thick with tension, and the silence was almost suffocating.

He laughed bitterly, a hollow sound that echoed through the room. "What? Do you think you can fix me? I don’t need fixin’ lass. Jus’ leave it alright?”

Your head reared back as his words struck you. Mouth agape, you were at a loss for words. Simon saw the pain in your eyes. He sighed, shaking his head, and whispered, “Shit, love. I’m sorry. It’s just–this isn't working."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to remain calm. "No. You don't get to run away. Not this time. This will not end like your last marriage. No disrespect to your previous wife, but you're not scaring me off that easily. I know you have demons. I know how hard it is to do the work you've done and still do. I know you’re just lashing out of fear. You can be a ghost in the field. The strongest, baddest motherfucker out there. That's in the field. You do not get to be a ghost in this marriage. If you don't want to open up to me, fine, but you have got to give me something, Simon. I won't walk away from you. So don't run away from me. Please, I love you. I need you," you choked on a sob, fighting back tears that threatened to spill.

Simon’s façade cracked, and his eyes flashed. First with anger and pain that quickly morphed into sadness and fear. "You don't understand. I can’t… I can’t give you what you want. I can’t be the man you need. The husband you deserve."

You took a step closer, voice softening. "I don’t need you to be perfect, Simon. I need you to be here with me. Be the man you've always been. Flaws and all, baby. Talk to me. Let me share your burden."

He turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You know that's not my style, love. I'm not a man of many words. My past—I can't go back there. Life before you. That shit is dark both family and career-related, lovie. I don't want to rehash it. Relive it. It’s just the way I am, sweetheart. You deserve better than this. Better than me."

You reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm. "I deserve the man I married. The man who loves me, even when he’s hurting. I deserve you, Simon. And I’m staying."

Simon closed his eyes, the weight of your words sinking in. The two of you stood in silence, the tension palpable. Then, he slowly turned back to you, his expression weary but vulnerable.

"I don’t know if I can do this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Whatever you feel works for you. That's what we’ll do. Pushing me out of your life is not an option.”

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him. "You don’t have to do it alone. We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time."

Simon’s resolve crumbled, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice low and strained. "I’m so sorry."

You held him tighter, feeling the tension in his body. "It's okay, Simon. We’ll get through this. I love you."

He nodded, unable to find the words to express the depth of his gratitude and love. For the first time in weeks, he felt a glimmer of hope. Together, you could face whatever demons haunted him. Together, you could heal.

In the following days, Simon made a conscious effort to be more present. It wasn’t a dramatic change, but small gestures showed his commitment: a touch on your shoulder, a moment of eye contact, an occasional shared laugh.

One evening, as you both sat quietly in the living room, Simon spoke softly, “I’ve started seeing someone. To talk. About everything.”

You looked at him, surprised but relieved. “That’s good, Simon. Really good.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “It’s not easy, but I want to try. For us.”

You reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

There were still difficult days, but the atmosphere between you gradually lightened. You found comfort in small routines: sharing meals, walking together, sitting in companionable silence. Each day, Simon opened up a little more, and you felt the connection between you slowly strengthen.

One night, as you lay in bed, Simon turned to you, his voice a murmur in the dark. “Thank you for sticking with me.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to brush your fingers through his hair. “We’re in this together, Simon. Always.”

With that understanding, you both settled into a more peaceful sleep, knowing that the journey ahead would be challenging but manageable, as long as you faced it side by side.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated lovelies💚.

Tagging some love bugs💚:

@astoldbychae @darqchilddaydreamz @thirtysomethinganduncensored @starrynite7114

@amorestevens @percosim @theeblackmedusa @johnnyshoe

@thabiddie23 @sunshine-flower @ravennaortiz @bxdbxtxh15

@dc418writes @itgurls-world @phoenixhalliwell @drewsmusee

@magicwriterinspo @m150-50up @readernimsblog

@chosoloveletters @ghostslittlegf @virgomess @msdrpreist

@foulmouthedandfanfic

[starfallsturniolo]

head over heels | M.S

This is my first fic, in a hot sec, so sorry if it's ass lmaoooo. Also it's long as fuck

Warnings: Drinking, Smut (don't read/keep scrolling if you don't want to or are uncomf or are a minor PLEASE), Dom!Matt, Angsty, Praise Kink (if you squint) I think that's it lol.

Word Count: 3.7k

Something happens and I’m head over heels. I never find out until I’m head over heels.

It had hit her like a truck. A semi truck, an 18 wheeler to be exact, carrying something so extremely heavy like granite slabs, or tons of cinder blocks, or even fucking boulders. And it was something so simple as waking up in the morning. She just looked over one night and something had happened, suddenly she was head over heels.

They had gone out for dinner and went to a small gathering after, and that’s where she found herself now. In the bathroom, face flushed, blood thrumming in her ears, hands shaky. There was no way she could have feelings for Matt. No way. The world had to have completely fallen off its axis right?  

There had to be another reason why she feels the way she feels. Seeing him smirk at his brother sent butterflies a flight in her stomach. Seeing him talk to another girl and brush her arm with his hand while laughing sent her heart to the middle of her throat. The laugh that roared out of his throat at something she said made her fists clench.  No. There’s no other reason. She was truly, terrifyingly, falling for Matt Sturniolo. She looked at herself in the mirror, willing to get a hold of her mind and body. Deep breaths she thought, just get through this night and you’ll be fine. Coming out of the bathroom she was faced with Madison, a knowing half smile on her face.

“I was wondering where you got off to. You practically ran out of the room. Anything you want to tell me?” she cocked her head.

“No” I shake my head “Just got a little overwhelmed for a sec, I’m fine though” 

“Whatever you say girl. You seemed a little – put off by something. Wouldn’t have to do with the girl Matt was talking to, would it?” Her eyebrows raised slightly.

“Wha-What are you talking about?”

“Don’t think I don't see how you two look at eachother.” What. “Oh come on. You both look at each other whenever the other isn’t paying attention. You watch as the other walks out of the room with this almost longing in your eyes. You both do.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” I say as I gesture for her to move so we can exit the bathroom. 

Walking back into the living room, I grab a cup and quickly down ice cold water, feeling it cool down the fire in my veins. I could do this, I could. 

“Slow down there kid.” I hear a rumble from behind me. I turn to see blue eyes, lighter than the ones I see in my dreams. 

“Chris,” I smile, “Just water buddy, don’t worry.” I do my best not to look over to where Madison returned, where Matt is. Still talking to that girl.

“She’s annoying the shit out of him, just so you know.” My eyes widen at the statement. 

“I don’t kn-”

“Oh cut the bullshit.” He snaps at me. I swallow the lump in my throat. “You know it. I know it. Madison and Nick know it. Hell, I bet every random person knows it.” He sighs. “You both need to get balls and just say something. Literally anything. Because it’s painful to watch.”

“I’m scared,” I whisper. “I didn’t think I really knew until now. Until I saw him with that girl over there. That’s painful to watch”

“You know it’s mutual right?” He says gently.

I scoff, “You don’t have to say that. I don’t want to be pitied.”

“I’m not pitying you. Or lying. It’s mutual. I know my brother, and I’ve only seen him look at someone the way he looks at you maybe twice in his life. And it’s been a while.”

My head was spinning, my breath coming fast. I knew Chris wouldn’t lie to me but I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. The doubt and feeling of not being good enough clouded my thoughts as I just stood staring at him. 

“You should talk to him. And talk to him soon.” He says with knowing eyes. “Nick and I have tried to get through to him on the matter but he refuses to listen, kid just makes excuses and changes the subject.” I nod at him. 

“I need time to just- I don’t know, process? This is new and weird and insane and I don’t even kno-”

“Relax. I’m not saying it has to be tonight. Take your time, but I do think this will all be alright.”

He walks away leaving me alone, but just momentarily as Madison comes back to me.

“Shots?” she smiles knowingly.

“Shots.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s still talking to the girl two hours later. And they’ve moved to the couch, his arm loosely around her shoulder and her hand on his knee. I feel sick, the burn of the alcohol starting to come up. Tears prick my eyes as I make eye contact with him. He tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows in a way to ask You good? I plaster on a smile and nod. Turning back to the counter to grab another beer. 

A hand on my shoulder snaps me out of my thoughts.

“What’s up? You look fucking miserable.” I turn to see Nick behind me, worry in his eyes.

“Just tired, thinking I may head home soon.” “Don’t go yet, come over to the couch and talk with us. Chris was just getting started on this insane story of what happened in this house last time he was here.”

“I’ll be over in a sec, just gonna run to the bathroom.”

After washing my hands, I run into a body leaving the bathroom and get slammed back into the door. 

“Christ, sorry it’s fucking packed in here.”

“You’re good.” I laugh softly looking up. Jesus, he was hot. Something about it seemed familiar. Blue eyes, floppy brown hair, tatto- fucking hell, he’s just like Matt. 

“Need another drink?” He nods to the empty beer bottle in my hand.

“Probably if I’m going to endure this for another hour or two.” I mutter. “What was that?”

“Yeah, yeah. Was just gonna grab another.”

“What a coincidence, so was I.” he smirked. Lord, he was hot. I follow him down the hallway, trying to squeeze past the bodies crammed into the few square feet we were trying to maneuver through. 

Next thing I know, we’re in the kitchen and Nick is calling my name. The blonde girl nowhere to be found.

“I told my friends I’d join them over there.” I say with a sympathetic tone. 

“Ah, gotcha.” He says with a small frown.

“You can… come if you want?”

“Yea, I’d like that.” He smiles. He walks behind me as I sit on the couch, him sitting on the arm.

“Hey, this is-” I stop in my tracks. I don’t know his fucking name. 

“Theo.” He pats my leg. I sense Matt’s eyes tracking the movement.

“Well Theo, welcome to the group.” Chris smirks. 

After 20 minutes of conversation and introductions, I find myself reaching the brink of my tolerance. One more drink and I’d probably be on my ass. Madison can obviously sense that as she hands me her cup of water with a raised brow. I nod in thanks. 

“You good?” Theo whispers in my ear.

“Perfectly fine.” I smile at him. I hear a deep breath from across me and look towards the sound. Matt. He looked furious. What the fuck?

“I think we’re going to get going.” He huffs out. Ok something was definitely wrong. Madison, Nick and Chris stand up following his lead.

“You coming?” Madison asks me. My heart stuttered. Do I go? Or do I stay, and try to fuck the feelings and thoughts running through my head away.

“No, I think I’m gonna stay a little longer.” I can see Theo smirk out of the corner of my eye. And, unfortunately, I can also see Matt’s jaw clenching, hands in fists, and his back go rigid. Chris shoots his eyes from me to Matt. Back and forth about five or so times. He definitely thought this was a bad idea. Madison’s trying to hide the proud smile forming on her face. I knew I would be getting a phone call from her as soon as we woke up in the morning. 

“Ok, well remember, we’re meeting at ours in the morning. You got the key?” Nick asks.

“I got it. I’ll see y’all tomorrow.” I nod, trying not to look Matt or Chris in the eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up to a pounding headache and an arm draped over my waist. My heart dropped into my stomach. Matt? No. No, not Matt. Theo. Jesus Christ what was I doing. 

After getting back to Theo’s I had completely forgotten about my revelation earlier in the night. Well, kinda. He looked so much like him. Almost to an absurd level. He could be be their quadruplet for fucks sake. 

He was a good fuck, I had to admit, although I wasn’t surprised. I looked to my phone to see the time, 10:15. I had to get going, and fast. I slipped out of bed finding my clothes from last night, wiping the mascara from under my eyes. My hair was an absolute nest, and I sure looked thoroughly fucked. 

“Hey.” Theo mumbled into the pillow.

“Hey, I gotta get going.” I say sheepishly. See this was new for me. Not the fact that I fucked a guy hours after I met them, no that I did frequently. One time I only knew the guy for a mere 30 minutes before I went back to his place. But I never stay the night. Ever. 

“Let me drive you. And here.” He starts getting up and throws me a shirt. I bite my lip. I want to get out of here. Now.

“No, no it’s ok I can get an uber.”

“Please. Let me drive you.” God WHY did he have to be so nice. Fuck it.

“Ok.” I say slowly slipping the soft shirt over my head. 

We pull up to the triplet’s apartment after 20 minutes of staring out the window in silence, save for a dry ass sentence here and there. I felt bad, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak much. I was anxious as hell. The mixture of staying over, the hangover, him reminding me so much of Matt and knowing that was probably the reason why I fucked him, seeing Matt sober for the first time after what I realized last night. It was a lot. 

“Can I get your number?” I need to get out of this car now.

“Sure.” I type it into his phone, knowing that the chances of him getting a reply was scarce.

“Great. Maybe we can grab drinks later this week.”

“Uh, sure yeah that sounds great.” No chance at that either.

I shut the car door and take out my keys, finding the spare and unlocking the door. I take a deep breath. And then another. And another. The nausea was creeping in and it wasn’t from the obscene amount of alcohol I had consumed last night.

I slip off my shoes and pad into the living room.

“Well it’s about damn time.” Nick says loudly. 

“Nick. My fucking head. Shut up you literal idiot.” Chris groans.

“Hey it’s not my fault you came back and downed another two beers.”

“Shut. Up.” He throws a pillow to the couch.

“Well. You look…” Madison begins.

“Disheveled. New Shirt?” Nick finishes, silently laughing. 

I scoff, “Yeah thanks guys. Exactly what everyone wants to hear in the morning.”

“I was extremely surprised to not find you on the couch this morning when I went to pee.” Chris looks up at me, a small smirk on his face.

“In the five years I’ve known you, I have never woken up and not seen you on the couch after a night out. Even when you don’t initially come home with us.” Madison purses her lips trying to hide a smile. 

“Time for the morning after debrief!” Nick yells.

“Would you stop fucking screaming you big yellow beast.” Chris screams back.

“Yeah well who’s yelling now” Nick throws back.

“If I could stand up right now without falling over I would kill you Nick”

“I’d like to see you fucking try you big baby.”

“Fucking. Quit. It.” Matt says sternly. I look over to the chairs at the island in the kitchen. I hadn’t seen him when I walked in. He meets my eyes, no emotion to be seen. 

“Alright back to the debrief.” Nick throws a gatorade at me. I sit down next to Madison.

“What? You don’t want to change first.” Matt says glaring at me. Everyone goes silent, looking between the two of us. Turn my head back to Nick.

“Debrief.” I nod, ignoring Matt. I don’t know who shoved something up his ass this morning, but I was not ready to deal with him. And what the actual fuck is his problem. I’ve seen him hungover multiple times, but I’ve never seen him get an attitude like this.

After Nick, Chris and Madison talk about how they all ubered home, Nick almost vomiting out the window, not because he was drunk but because the driver was a “fucking maniac” he excused. It rounded back to me. 

I took a breath, picking at my fingernails.

“We left probably half an hour after you guys, Theo had a friend who wasn’t drinking so he dropped us at his place.”

“And? How was he?” Nick gestured for me to move forward. Usually I was really open with this stuff around them. But for some reason this morning, after the shock of last night, it felt so weird. I could sense Matt’s eyes boring into me.

“He was, uh…”

“Oh come on.” Chris sits up. “Don’t hold back. What kind of freaky shit did you get into?” My face screwed up.

“God, nothing like that. He was good, great actually. Better than the last few.” Matt shoots up out of the chair, stomps to his room and slams the door.

“What the fuck is his problem?!” I throw my hands into the air.

“I think- I think it’s time you tell him kid.” Chris shoots me a solemn look.

“I hate to agree with Chris, but I agree with Chris.” Nicks looks at me, Madison nods. I groan.

“Not yet.”

“Yes. It has to be now. Or else we’re going to have to deal with this for the foreseeable future.” Madison states.

“Fine.” I huff out and stand up. Slowly walking to his room, trying to swallow my pride and praying to the universe I don’t make an absolute fool out of myself. 

I approach his door.

“Matt?” I knock.

“What do you want?” He snaps from behind the door. I open it, staring at him on the bed looking at the ceiling.

“Did I say you could come in?”

“Ok what the fuck is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Obviously you do.”

“Maybe that’s you projecting. Maybe you obviously have a problem. Whoring yourself out to any guy you meet within a few hours. What number was this? 25? 30? Did you even remember his name? I bet you forgot, bet you mixed it up with one of the many other men you’ve slept with in the past few months.” He growls. My jaw drops to the floor, hot tears filling my eyes. He’s never spoken this way to me. Never spoken to anyone this way before in the years I’ve known him. Legs shaking, I start walking to the bathroom knowing I’m seconds away from tears. I try to shut the door but he wedges his body in between.

“I didn’t mean that.” Anger still present in his voice.

“Then why the hell would you say it Matt?”

“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. All I know is that the minute I left that party I could not get you out of my head. Actually. That’s a lie. Every time you go home with some random guys I cannot get you out of my head. And it’s driving me. Fucking. Crazy. I couldn’t sleep, sick to my stomach picturing him with you. His hands on you, I-” I cut him off.

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t know. All I know is.. Fuck it.” He grabs my face in his hands and kisses me roughly, slamming the bathroom door shut with his foot.  I open my mouth to breathe but he doesn’t let me, pushing my body against the sink. I let out a moan of pain as my spine connects with the tile. I can feel his smirk against my lips. He then takes my bottom lip into his mouth and bites softly. I let out a whimper. 

“Shh. We can’t have them hearing us can we?” He whispers, then attacks my neck. He lifts me up onto the countertop. He lifts the t-shirt off my body. “Get this fucking thing off.” He growls. I go to cover my boobs as he bats my hands away. “Never. Fucking. Do that.” He says, his voice the lowest I’ve ever heard it before. He flips on the bathroom fan adding some noise to conceal the fact that we’re in here. 

He brings his mouth down to my chest, taking one nipple into his mouth then blowing a cool breath before moving to the other. Shivers run down my body. 

“Matt.” I start.

“I told you. Be Quiet.” He barks out. He starts moving lower, working me out of pants, leaving me in my underwear, smirking at the sight. He works his thumb over my underwear, and I blush knowing how I wet I am, and the fact that it’s probably visible through the fabric.

“Already?” He smirks. He pulls my underwear down, running his fingers up and down. “No one else gets to touch you ever again right?” I whimper. “I said right?”

“Yes. Yes. No one else, just you.” I whisper.

“Good girl. Use your words. Does this feel good?” He asks as he brings his mouth to my clit, softly licking. 

“Y-yes.”

“And this?” He adds a finger inside of me, groaning at how wet I already am. I moan in response.

“I said. Use your words.”

“Yes Matt. Feels so good.” He smiles as he continues, adding a second finger and pumping slowly. It’s not enough. It’s slow torture, it’s burning, it’s consuming me and I’m having trouble breathing. 

“Not enough, Matt. More. Please.” He rises up, pulls me off the counter and flips me around.

“I want you to watch me fuck you. I want you to see that no one else can make you feel this good. I want you to watch yourself come undone on my cock.” His words alone have my head spinning. He slowly enters me, bottoming out and my jaw drops.

“Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.” He says in between thrusts. “So. Fucking. Beautiful. All. Fucking. Mine.” He pulls my hair back exposing my neck. “Isn’t that right baby?” All I can do is nod.

“I’ll let that slide since I can see I’m fucking you speechless.” He growls into my ear. I can feel myself getting close, so close to the edge. He brings his hand forward, slowly circling my clit, too slow.

“Matt. Faster please.” I plead. He picks up his pace, both his fingers and his hips. His other hand covers my mouth, sensing what’s going to happen. I hit my high, squeezing my eyes close, my mouth dropping open behind his hand, silently screaming. He grunts and I feel him dripping down my thighs. Were both panting, sweaty, and shaking. I let out a soft laugh, rubbing my hands over my face, shaking my head back and forth. 

“Wha-” I begin but he cuts me off with a kiss. 

“No. Don’t start over thinking. I’ve wanted to do that for months. Hell, years. I can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else.”

“Last night, when you were talking to that girl. I couldn’t fucking see straight. Matt, I fucked that guy last because he looked like you. And I hated myself this morning. I didn’t even want to speak about it.” I start spilling the truth.

“I felt the same. When you left with Theo” He spits his name out. I smile softly at him. “And I swear it. I didn’t mean anything I said. I was jealous and mad and out of my mind. And I will never stop apologizing.”

“I know” I kiss his collarbone. “I know.”

“I mean it. No one else touches you.”

“No one else.” I nod, now unable to control my smile, him mirroring the same back. I go to grab toilet paper to wipe between my thighs.

“No. Leave it.” I raise an eyebrow. “It’s hot” He shrugs and I blush. “No need to get all shy on me when I fucked you stupid against the counter not even two minutes ago.” I shove him gently back, going to grab my clothes. He grabs the shirt and throws it in the trash. “Do not put that fucking thing on.” He tosses me his shirt and pajama pants, ducking into his room to grab new clothes. I stay in the bathroom as he slides back in, running his hand through my hair.

“You’re so beautiful.” He grins, “Can’t get enough. Now let’s get back out there.” He slaps my ass gently, pushing me through the door.

As soon as I’m in eyeshot of the three on the couch Madison’s eyes go wide, Nick’s jaw drops and Chris has the biggest smile on his face.

“Fucking finally!” He screams. “Holy shit, ow Chris, now you’re killing my head” Nick slaps him. The whole room erupts into laughter as Matt and I plop on the couch, his arm laying around my shoulders. And it’s then that I know, we’ve fallen head over fucking heels.

[mangoshorthand]

A Hargreeves Christmas Carol | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader | Ch4

SUMMARY: Luther is the sort of idiot who goes around with a 'Merry Christmas' and a goofy smile on his lips. In your opinion, he should be roasted with his own turkey and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. Who better to teach you the error of your ways than Luther's brother, the man who holds the power of Christmases Past, Present, and Yet to Come in the palm of his hand? Info/Announcement Post

<< Read Chapter Three

Chapter Four (Rated M, 4.3k words)

The Last of the Spirits

As the living room cleared of his family, their Christmas ruined by the argument, Five succeeded in priming the briefcase. He reached out as if to take your upper arm and vanish with you into the previous evening, but you jumped out of his reach. 

“No Five. Show me the future! Show me the nuclear armageddon all this is supposed to cause. Because, based on what I just saw, this is your fault, not mine.” 

You reached out a finger and jabbed him hard in the chest, withdrawing quickly lest he use the opportunity to grab you. 

“You’re going home,” he said, firmly.

“I am not!” you yelled, stamping your foot in frustration, “take me to the future and prove to me that you haven’t been lying for an opportunity to get in my pants!”

Five tossed his head angrily, shaking his fists at his sides in equal frustration and making the briefcase hit him hard in the leg. 

“Don’t flatter yourself” he spat, “You think I’d do all this just for that?”

And then, after a slight pause:

“You think I’d try to scare you into fucking me, is that it?

“I don’t know what to believe!” you cried. 

Five took two or three angry breaths and chewed the inside of his cheek before he responded.

“I didn’t lie to get into your pants,” he said, sounding bitter, but slightly calmer “And, technically, I didn’t lie to you at all. I never actually said you caused nuclear armageddon. I just let you believe it.”

“WHAT?”

“I said that upsetting Luther could potentially cause nuclear armageddon, which is true: actions like those can, indirectly, lead to apocalyptic events. I never actually said it did in this case, however.”

You seized a bookend off a nearby shelf and threw it at him, hard. He, of course, blinked and reappeared a short distance away, leaving the bookend to smash against the wall. 

“I guess I would have deserved that.” Five said, eyeing the bookend as it faded back into being on the bookshelf. 

“YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I know I shouldn’t -”

“YOU BASTARD!”

“I know,” he replied, a pleading note in his voice now, “but if you just-”

“YOU ARE BARRED. TAKE ME HOME, AND THEN NEVER SHOW YOUR FACE IN MY BAR AGAIN. I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!”

Five held up the hand not holding the briefcase.

“Fine, okay. I get it. But will you let me explain?”

You breathed like an angry bull, your fists clenched so hard it felt like you’d never be able to relax them again, but gave a resentful nod.

“Thank you,” he said, putting the briefcase down on one of the couches and sitting on its arm, facing you. 

“I guess it was my fault. I just…I guess I tried to blame you because that was easier than facing the fact I ruined Christmas for Luther… and for everyone else.”

You let out a huff, but his face kept you from an angry expostulation for the time being, and he continued: 

“But Sloane was right. You and I are similar. We’re both kind of misanthropic: we push the people who care about us away. It might not lead to an apocalypse, but it’s hardly gonna spell good news for us in the future.”

His expression appealed to yours, and you found it hard to maintain the same level of anger as you saw the honest-to-God anxiety in his face.

“I got a second chance to live my life,” he continued, quietly, “and I’m already fucking it up. You only got one life, and I don’t want to see you fuck it up either.”

You looked back at him, at his beautiful, infuriating, and wholly sincere face. Not for the first time that night, you felt the strange urge to cry. 

What was even stranger was the urge to cry on his shoulder. 

“I think you’re right,” he said.

“About what?” you asked, frowning.

“We should go see the future. Check in on you and I in, say, ten years time? See how bad it gets?”

The idea, though you’d been fiercely advocating for it only a minute or so earlier, suddenly filled you with a thrill of uncertain horror. Perhaps it was the effect of his speech, but to have such unnatural knowledge, impossible in the normal course of things, seemed now too terrible to comprehend. 

Nevertheless, you nodded silently, your legs starting to tremble beneath you. 

“Good,” Five said, and held out his hand. 

You took it. As he ran his thumb over the back of your hand, the fear became a little more bearable. 

“I really am sorry,” he said, seriously, still holding your eyes with his.

“I'll forgive you,” you replied, and squeezed his fingers. 

He smiled softly and let your hand go, reaching behind him for the briefcase once more.

“Okay,” he said, balancing it on one knee and playing with the dials, “since it’s still my hair in the briefcase, we may as well visit me first.”

The case clicked and whirred as, with a flourish, he finished his calibration. 

“Ready to see how shit my life gets?”

He looked up at you with a grin, took your hand again, and you both vanished into the now-familiar static.

You emerged in another living room, almost as different as it was possible to be from the one you just left. It was dingy, lit by a single bulb uncovered by any sort of shade.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Five murmured, looking around disdainfully. 

You had overcome your fear for now, and you looked around the living room with interest. 

It was clean at least, but the furnishings left a lot to be desired. There was a single recliner in the center of the carpet facing a TV mounted on the wall in front of you. There was also a squashed looking chesterfield, which seemed as if it was only there for form’s sake; a vague gesture at the idea of having guests.

Other than that, there was a small table beside the recliner and a couple of IKEA-looking bookcases, each filled to the brim with books. Otherwise, the room was empty. 

“Well, I’m definitely still single.” Five said, nodding to the sparse decor slightly bitterly, “Figures.”

“Yep, it’s not great,” you confirmed, grimacing.

He glanced down at the briefcase and then around the room again.

“It’s definitely Christmas Eve,” he said, “but I guess I got nobody to put up a tree for. What would be the point?”

There was a voice from the other room and you both fell silent.

“Oh, that’s great. Tell him I say hi.” 

It was Five’s voice, and it was followed a half second later by Five himself coming into the room. 

“Really?” the Five beside you said, a mixture of disappointment and incredulity in his voice. 

The decade-older Five was wearing a pair of pajama pants, no shirt, and was sporting a chevron mustache that didn't suit him. He held a phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, and his well-abused slippers shushed against the carpet. 

He was carrying a beer in one hand and what looked like some sort of frozen dinner in the other: constituted beef packaged into steak-esque shapes was sitting on a bed of soggy green beans. On the side, there was a dump of watery potato puree masquerading as mashed. 

“This is so depressing,” Five said, cringing at the sight of himself.

“That mustache does make you look like a child molester,” you agreed.

“Thanks." 

“Mm-hm,” said the future Five, placing his sad meal on the table and settling himself in the recliner, facing away from you, “well that’s nice to hear. Did the gifts for the kids arrive...Good, good.”

He picked up the beer and took a swig, using the remote to turn on the TV and immediately mute it, flicking through the channels as he spoke on the phone. 

“Me? Oh, I’m fine. Just relaxing, you know?”

He paused in his channel surfing on a showing of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, set down the control and watched it as he continued the conversation.

“You know me, I hate Christmas … Yeah, I’m happy as hell here.”

Five winced beside you. 

“I’m guessing that’s a lie?” you murmured, looking at your Five sidelong.

“Yup,” Five said, grimly, “the only thing I hate worse than people is being alone.”

Five’s future self lifted his dinner onto his lap and speared a limp green bean onto his fork.

“How’s Luther?” he said, “Life and soul of the party, right? … Sure, sure … good for you.”

He took a few more bites of his meal, ‘uh-huh-ing’ and ‘mm-hm-ing’ occasionally at the voice on the other end of the line. 

 Well,” he said, an almost undetectable tinge of sadness in his voice now, “maybe next year.”

His tone made it so clear that he didn’t hold out much hope that you didn’t even bother conferring with the Five beside you.

“You guys got your New Years planned? … Nice, nice … do you know what everyone else is doing?”

He stayed quiet as he listened, eating some more and throwing out another mm-hm or uh-huh as the conversation required. 

“Huh?” he said, eventually. “I’ll probably hit the bars with a couple of friends. Maybe do the big countdown in Times Square or wherever.”

“I’m lying,” Five said to you, flatly.

“Yeah, yeah,” the Five in the chair continued, “well I’ll - what? … Oh. No, that’s fine. Have fun tomorrow. I gotta go now anyway … alright … yeah, Happy Christmas. Bye Vik.”

When the call ended, he put down his knife and fork for a few moments, sighed, and then lifted his eyes back to the TV and began eating once more. 

“This is what I get.” Five said dully, watching himself finish the last third of his meal. 

You looked from the Five facing away from you in the chair to the Five beside you, his expression haunted.

“But this is just a future that might be, right?” you said, half asking, half attempting to reassure him, “This isn’t set in stone.”

“If I don’t get my shit together, this is where I’ll be.”

“But you talk like you’re past all hope,” you said, bracingly, “You just have to make a change.”

“Yeah,” he said, though not sounding convinced. 

“And even if you get like this, it’s not like it’s too late to make it right! You’re, what, in your thirties here?” 

“Over eighty,” Five said. 

“Well, whatever,” you continued, “the one thing you got is time. If that Five pulled his finger out of his ass, he could go fix it. It’s not like anyone’s dead.”

As you spoke, the older Five finished his meal and began to channel surf again.

“I was alone for a very long time.” your Five said, “It does something to you.”

You watched him in silence as he continued. 

“When my brain was developing the finer points of empathy, I didn’t have anyone around to empathize with. There was nobody real to practice on while my brain was still plastic.”

You looked from him to the Five in the chair, considering him as you listened. 

“I feel like…maybe I’m doomed.” Five continued, “This is my mind’s comfort zone; nobody around to force me to be an actual human being. Nobody to challenge me, nobody to compromise for. Nobody to force me to be better by expecting more of me.”

Your attention was suddenly caught by the television.

“Uh, Five?”

“It’s like I’m stuck in this pattern of -”

“Five, seriously.”

This got his attention, and he looked at the TV in horror.

“Oh my god!” he cried, almost dropping the briefcase.

On the screen, there were two women gyrating against one another in barely-there Santa-themed lingerie. From the chair, a rhythmic shuffling sound confirmed the worst. 

Horrified, Five grabbed you by the back of your sweater, pulled you out of the room and into a sad looking bedroom. 

“I am so, so sorry!” he said, sitting down heavily on the bed and hiding his face in his hands, “I can’t believe you had to see that!”

You tried extremely hard to keep the laughter in, but a little burst bounds despite your best efforts. 

“I’m sorry,” you said back to him, looking up at you with a red, mortified face made even worse by your reaction, “I’m really sorry to laugh, I don’t want to embarrass you. It was just so unexpected!”

He hid his head in his hands again and groaned, just as the Five from the living room gave an audible groan of his own.

This was too much, and you fell into helpless giggles.

“I’m - s-so ….sorry!” you managed, struggling to speak against laughter that had you doubled over and leaning against the wall for support, “I’m not… I’m not j-judging you, it’s j-just… really f-f-f-funny!”

You struggled to get ahold of yourself, managing it with difficulty, and Five recovered himself just enough to look up at you, mortified. 

“I’m glad one of us is enjoying this at least.”

At this, all your hard work was undone and you bent double again, breathless with laughter.

“T-t-two of us are enjoying it!” you wheezed, gesturing in the direction of Five’s counterpart. 

Five’s face crumpled, but then a pained snort forced its way out, and then he was laughing too. 

“I can’t believe I masturbate to cable porn.” he said, agony in his voice, “That’s the worst part!”

You sat down beside him on the bed and put your arm around his shoulders, giggling breathlessly, his own reluctant laughter just adding to the hilarity. 

In this manner, the laughter gradually faded, and you finished up leaning against one another, still chuckling occasionally. 

Turning to him, you looked at his expression. Though he still looked amused, there was equal humiliation and misery in the lines of his face.

“Listen to me,” you said, softly, “you’re not doomed to loneliness and cable porn. You’re not… you’re not broken, maybe just a little bent.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, bowing his head and letting it rest gently against yours. 

He let out a little breath, as if he were laying down a heavy burden he knew he would have to pick up again all too soon. 

At this close quarters, you could smell that menthol scent again; eucalyptus, perhaps a hint of citrus.

And, rather like the night you wiped salt away from his chin, your body acted without your brain’s involvement. 

You pressed your lips to his scarlet temple, and then withdrew. 

Five looked surprised, and he lifted his head to look at you, only a few inches apart. 

“Thanks,” he said, again, though he mouthed it this time, the word barely articulated.

You looked at each other, caught in this strange, frozen moment. Both of you sat there, paralysed, completely unsure what might happen next.

And then, a particularly drawn out moan from the living room snapped you both back to reality. Apparently the other Five wasn’t far off finishing his visit to the land of cable porn. 

“We should go,” Five said, quickly, drawing away from you quickly and fumbling in his breast pocket for the vial containing your hair.

“Sounds good,” you said, brightly, hiding the awkwardness with jollity. 

There were a few exquisitely embarrassing moments as Five exchanged the hairs in which his older self was putting on rather the auditory show.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Five chanted as he worked, finally succeeding in slamming the DNA housing back into place and setting the briefcase.

With no preamble, he grabbed your arm and you both thankfully vanished into the ether. 

When you rematerialized, it was to find yourself in your bar on a busy night. 

“Thank God.” Five said, still bright pink.

He looked briefly down at the briefcase:

“Yep, same night.”

The bar looked relatively unchanged, though the fixtures and fittings had been upgraded at some point in the ten years that lay between you and this permutation of Maggie’s. There was the same half-assed tinsel around the window frame as the sole concession to the fact it was Christmas Eve.

On the corner table, a group of men donning Santa hats were singing an uproarious version of Jingle Bells, their drinks up over their heads and swaying in unison. 

There you were, behind the crowded bar as usual, shaking a cocktail with one hand and pulling a pint of lager with the other, working with the same, ruthless energy you always did, face hard and steely in concentration. 

Robbie was gone, it seemed, because you didn’t recognise the two employees helping to fend off the rest of the crowd of customers baying for booze and jacked up on Christmas cheer.

“This doesn’t seem fair,” Five said, “You’re doing great, but a few miles away I’m…wanking into a TV dinner like Ebenezer Splooge!”

“I look so much older,” you said, not listening and instead eyeing the first hint of crow’s feet emerging around your eyes.

“You look great,” Five said, impatiently, “This just proves that I’m the problem. You’re perfectly happy, and I'm a mess.”

He watched you almost wistfully, both envying your future and admiring your command, as he always found himself doing whenever he visited Maggie’s. You really were a sight to see behind that bar, and ten years had only added more skill. 

As another large table began to join in with the Jingle Bells guys, you said something that Five didn’t quite catch, and he tore his eyes away from the future you to look at the you beside him.

He was surprised to see tears streaming down your face.

“I’m not happy!” 

You fell against his chest and cried tears more violent than any you’d cried that night.

Five stood there, bewildered, as your desperate tears began to soak through his shirt. 

“Okay, okay,” he said, soothingly, “I’m gonna take you home, alright?”

He fiddled with the briefcase with difficulty, peering over your shoulder to set it where he held it behind your back. With a couple of pushes of buttons, he succeeded, and you were at last standing once more in your darkened living room, the high wind buffering the windows. 

Five looked briefly down at the briefcase for confirmation.

“Ten minutes after we left,” he murmured, satisfied, “Quantum suspension engaged, so no doppelganger for me. We’re good to go from here.”

This done, he lowered you both onto the couch, letting the briefcase bump down softly onto the floor. 

For a few moments, he simply held you against him, and then he shifted his grip to hold you by the shoulders in order to look into your face. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, “Why did seeing that make you cry?”

You shook your head and closed your eyes to weep once more, sobs overtaking you.

“Hey,” Five said, shaking you gently, “given all the shit you've seen about me tonight, you can at least tell me that!”

When this didn’t yield the desired result, he sighed and pulled you back against his shoulder.

“Okay, cry it out for now, but I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

You did cry it out, sniffling against his pure white shirt without a worry for how much you might be ruining it. Right now, he felt warm and safe. His was the only comfort you could imagine taking as waves of revelation broke upon you. 

His was the only comfort you could take, you realized.

Many of your bridges were burned, others had simply rotted away from lack of maintenance, and others yet had been severed by the loss of the other side. The end result was the same: you were very short on bridges. 

In truth, Luther, Robbie, and Five’s bridges were probably the only three you had left.

Luther had maintained his well, without your help, yet earlier today you’d launched a Molotov cocktail at it, leaving it in danger of burning down if you didn’t take action.

Robbie’s was a thin and sickly little bridge, barely a bridge at all. It could have been stronger, you knew, if only you’d allowed him to build as he wanted. 

And Five’s? Right now, it was the only one that could support your weight. It was untested before tonight, yet it was standing firm beneath your feet.

“I’m not happy,” you repeated, when your sobs had subsided enough to allow you to speak, “I haven’t been happy for a long, long time.”

Five’s arms tightened around you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Ever since my grandma died. I’ve felt…”

You broke, took a couple of breaths, and tried a different way of explaining it. 

“I looked at myself behind that bar, and I realized I have no idea who that woman is.”

Five nodded slowly, though you could tell he didn’t really understand. 

“I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I want. I just know that I don’t want to be her in ten years’ time.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because she’s exactly the same as I am now!”

Five gave another of those slow nods, processing. 

“Tell me if I’m way off base,” he said, tentatively, as if he’d just drawn a tenuous red line between points in his mind, “your grandma died, and you took over Maggie’s immediately, right? When you were twenty one?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think that maybe you threw yourself into managing the place to avoid… actually grieving her?”

You made a small, wounded noise, a fresh wave of tears descended, and you nodded against his chest.

He reclined on the couch, taking you with him as he fumbled behind you to pull a blanket over you. It was warm, comforting, and it made you cry harder in relief.

“Maggie’s was never your baby,” he said, softly, “it was hers.”

You nodded.

“Do you even like running it?”

You shook your head, admitting it for the first time with a shuddering outward breath.

“Everything she did for me. I can’t just let that go. That bar was everything to her.”

Five shook his head.

“You think she gave you that bar so that you could chain yourself to it?”

“No.”

“Then sell it.”

“No!”

“Well, then find something in the middle!” 

You sniffled and took a few moments to regain some composure. 

“I don’t like managing the bar, but I like mixology. When I make cocktails, it reminds me of her and it feels good.”

“Then stick with mixology and ditch the rest,” he said, as if it were obvious.

You shook your head.

“I can’t let her down. If - if I don’t make it a success then… then I’ll be proving she was wrong to trust me with it.”

“Sounds like you got your thinking backwards to me,” Five scoffed. 

“What do you mean?”

“You said she always fought for you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re acting like she raised you just to make sure there would be someone around to make Maggie’s a success. Seems more likely that she worked her ass off in the bar to make sure she could leave something behind for you.”

You couldn’t help but see the logic in this, but still, something niggled:

“The bar’s her legacy. I can’t abandon it.”

“You’re her legacy, idiot.”

His logic had done little to dispel your doubts, but this emotional truth smashed through them with the force of a wrecking ball. 

You remembered her twinkling at you at fifteen as she taught you to make your first margaria, you remembered her beaming with pride when you first made a cosmo by heart, and you remembered her on her deathbed, pressing her rhinestone necklace into your hand and telling you how proud she was, how successful you’d be. 

You remembered her taking her in your arms and making you feel safe while your parents screamed. 

It wasn’t the bar, it was you. It was always you. 

And you were crying once more: hot, cleansing, healing tears.

“I miss her,” you hiccuped against Five’s chest. 

“I know,” he said, stroking your hair.

For the next several minutes, you cried yourself dry. And then you felt better. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, slightly hoarsely, “I cried all over your shirt.”

“I don’t mind,” Five said.

In truth, he could have stayed there all night with you in his arms, wet shirt or not. You stopping crying was bittersweet: your grief was over, but it meant that soon he’d have to stir himself, say his goodbyes and probably never touch you like this ever again. 

“Can I get you a nightcap?” you asked. 

“Sure.”

You extracted yourself from him and looked on the kitchen shelf that stored your private booze. 

“Tequila shot?” you asked him, with a mischievous grin. 

“Perfect,” he smiled back.

God, the pain your little grin caused him. Like a knife to his stomach. 

You returned to the couch with two shots of tequila and held one out to him. He took it with thanks, and you sat down again. 

Five raised his glass.

“To Maggie,” he said.

“To you,” you countered, “the man who said he didn’t have enough empathy.”

Five chuckled, and you clinked your glasses together before throwing them back, revelling in the heat as it went down. 

“I’d better take my leave,” Five said, when he’d recovered from the shot.

You nodded, and you both stood.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’d like you to come for Christmas tomorrow. But no pressure. I’m going to do things differently on my end this time, and none of that’s on you.”

“Thank you,” you said.

He bent, picked up the briefcase, and you followed him to your apartment door. There, he turned to look at you and held out his hand once more.

“Happy Holidays,” you said, solemnly, taking his outstretched hand.

Five raised your linked hands to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of yours.

“Happy Holidays,” he replied, and left.

Read Chapter Five >> (Final chapter!) I FEED OFF COMMENTS AND REBLOGS YUM YUM YUM

The Last of the Spirits — The Pointing Finger by John Leech, 1843 in Dickens' A Christmas Carol, first edition (1843).

Dickens' A Christmas Carol full text available here.

Read it! It's a much better than this, and you can see how many lines I stole verbatim or clumsily referenced.

Dividers used in this series by @bernardsbendystraws (garland) and @strangergraphics (lights) My husband (Mr Mango) also wishes it to be known that he came up with Ebenezer Splooge. It was him, it was him, it was all him! Here he is, at the bottom, where he belongs.

Taglist: @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969, @chalametabingbong, @lolawassad, @icantpickanamefromonefandom @thebearmage @kaybreezy3000, @starlitflora (comment to be added or removed)

Megalist

Request info + rules

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See request info + rules for request status and more.

[justastraymoa]

HOW DID YOU LOSE MY CAT?

I was in a complete state of panic and three thousand miles from home, unable to do anything to help the situation at hand.

"How did you lose Cheese?” I wheezed into the phone trying to calm my breathing and thoughts enough to focus on the problem at hand.

Its really my fault. I made the mistake of trusting a neighbor to watch my precious baby boy while I was on a week long work trip. The trip was mandatory and last minute so I had no choice.

I just moved a couple months ago and with the new job and settling into the new apartment I hadn’t had time to really get to know the neighborhood or the neighbors. Still, the middle aged man across the way seemed nice enough the few times we chatted and he agreed to go feed Cheese twice a day.

He didn’t give updates unless I specifically asked for them, but beggers couldn’t be choosers and I had no choice but to go on this last minute trip.

"Its not my fault. He bolted when I opened the door.” Luo responded. I could practically hear the shrug over the phone.

"Well did you go after him?” I pressed. Honestly I felt like I was pulling teeth here. The man took responsibility for my cat by agreeing to take care of him for the week, the least he could do was feel bad for losing him.

There was a drawn out dismissing noise on the other end of the line. “Not really. I followed him to the stairs but he was gone by the time I got to them.”

I clenched my fist and nearly bit my tongue off. I wanted to yell and scream at the man for not caring even a little bit about my loved one! “Can you go out and look for him or put up posters or something?” I asked. Surely this was not too much of an ask. It was the bare minimum someone in this position could do!

"Ill put a bowl of food out for him, but I don’t have time to wander around town looking for a cat. Just get another one when you get back if he doesn’t show up. There are shelters full of them I am sure.”

I stood in my hotel room in angry shock. How could this asshole say that to me mere minutes after learning my pet ran off to god knows where! How heartless!

"Listen, I have to go. Ill let you know if he shows up.” The line clicked and I looked at the screen to see my own reflection staring wide eyed back at me in the black screen.

I looked around the room, thinking through my options. I was the lead in this meeting and no one else could present like I could. Even if someone could take over for me, I am the only one on this trip from my company who knows most of this information. There was no way anyone could answer any of the questions the others were sure to ask. And I was still too new at the company to risk a bad review or ask for any favors.

Bottom line. I was stuck here while my baby was out on the streets thousands of miles away doing god knows what. He could be hurt or worse! He was an all black cat and there were some sick people out there who would see that and use him for some awful purposes and do unspeakable things to him!

There was no way I was going to be able to sleep for the rest of this awful trip! And I still had to look and act presentable! Five days of not knowing what was happening to my Cheese! Why did I think this job was a good idea. I was perfectly fine where I was. In my cozy little hometown working at the local grocer on the weekends and the tiny doctors office the rest of the week.

Sure my knowledge and degree were being wasted there, and I was miserable at both jobs. But I knew everyone there and was known back. And people cared about each other there. Everyone knew Cheese and would have turned the town upside down to try and find him the moment he got out the door. Not that he ever even tried to get out with me. He is mischievous, sure, but he had never once tried to escape. But no, I got the opportunity to work my dream job in a big city hours from home and I thought it was perfect.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe Cheese would come back for dinner in a couple hours and this whole nightmare could be over.

A text message the next morning from Luo stated that the food bowl he put out had not been touched.

I went about my day as best I could. I noticed some odd stares and several of the other people asked if I was okay because I was being quieter than usual. I was honest with them as much as I could be without being annoying and whiny. They were appropriately sympathetic, but of course could not or did not offer any solutions.

As I sat at a dinner with a whole group of people I only just met for this trip my phone pinged with a new message. After a quick glance I excused myself and almost ran to the bathroom.

I quickly texted everyone I could to see if anyone was available to go pick up Cheese from his savior and cat sit for me for the rest my trip.

Parents were immediately a no. Dad got hurt trying to clean the gutters by himself and mom was stuck waiting on him and making sure that he actually rested and took his medications properly.

BFF was also a no. She was on a vacation with her new boytoy out on some beach somewhere with perfect sunsets and white sand. I’m a little jealous not gunna lie.

I wracked my brain for any other options on people. Luo was obviously a hard no. Forever. I would not trust that man to borrow a cup of sugar from now on.

At least Cheese seemed to be okay. And he found himself a friendly household. In the pictures this Bangchan sent Cheese looked happy and healthy. No visible injuries, and Bangchan said he didn’t see any either. He even has a cat loving roommate. So Cheese would be okay for a little while until I could figure out someone who could go get him.

I felt really guilty for sticking my cat on some strangers who already had gone above and beyond for both him and me. But Bangchan seemed adamant, and I knew Cheese would be okay with them.

I need to go out and get something for them. A gift or souvenir or something to show my appreciation. That’s how I would spend my evening to occupy my time and brain from the guilt and missing my boy.

Okay so me and Lino are going to get along amazing I can already tell.

First he sent me a pic of my boy without even me asking first. An actual update without having to ask for one!

Second, Bangchan was not lying. He is a cat lover through and through.

Lino:

'I have happily sacrificed half my bed for Cheese.’

A new picture of Cheese and him all cuddled together on what looked like a very large bed soon followed the message.

I laughed to myself.

Me:

'Don’t let him hog the bed too much. He likes to shove me off the side occasionally.’

My bed was a queen, and I only upgraded to that size because of Cheese. My full size was just not big enough for both of us. He liked to touch you when sleeping, and he will physically use all 4 paws to push you until you are on the very edge of the mattress.

Lino:

‘its far too late for that. I happily give it up though to be honest. And he snores! It’s the cutest thing I have ever heard in my entire life! I recorded it.’

Then a recording came through, the first time I was hearing my baby boy in days. I nearly burst into tears, as it was my eyes stung. I saved the recording and set it to my message tone so I could listen to it anytime I got a text.

Me:

'Thank you so much for sending me that you have no idea how much I miss him'

'I was so worried when he got out and my neighbor didn’t even care!

Lino:

'I understand somewhat. I have three boys at my parents house that I miss so much.'

A picture of three adorable cats followed all labeled with their names.

Me:

'Aww they are so cute!'

Bin is allergic to cats! The guilt is back full force and more! Not only did I stick my cat on some strangers for 3 days, but one of them is ALLERGIC!

I truly am an awful person. I need to go out and get more thank you gifts for them. There is no way I have enough.

Much later as I was getting ready to head to bed I got a videocall from the latest of Bangchans roommates. I answered a little leery about video calling someone I only just messaged for the first time a couple hours ago.

I tried not to react to the absolute cuteness that greeted me on the other end of the call. Not only was Cheese there, but Bin was a cutie himself. Cheese was curled up on his chest as he lounged on what looked like a couch.

“I know its strange that I am calling you when we haven’t even met.” Bin started cheeks turning a little pink. On the screen I could see him absent mindedly stroking down the length of Cheeses back over and over.

I melted inside. “its not a problem. Is something wrong? I truly am sorry you are stuck with Cheese when you are allergic. I feel really bad!”

“Actually that’s why I called. I don’t want you to feel bad. I would tell you if it was a problem, I promise. But he doesn’t seem to be triggering my allergies much.” Bin shrugged and Cheese chirped in annoyance at being jostled.

I sighed as I curled up on my bed. “If you are sure. I can still try and find someone to come get him.” I offered. It may be easier to get mom to come out if it was only for tonight and tomorrow. I was due back the day after that in early morning. I could probably convince her if I begged and pestered enough.

“No no don’t. I am enjoying him. He is a little heater! Feels good after a long workout.”

We chatted with no real conversation for a good half hour more, which kinda shocked me. I wasn’t one to be super sociable. And I didn’t even really know this person. He was just sweet and really easy to talk to.

Hyune, the fourth roommate, made me realize that I hadn’t told anyone my name. It didn’t even occur to me to. I was so focused on Cheese and that whole situation. Even if he asked for it in kind of a rude way. Who asks for a name without giving one first??

AND HE WAS A DOG PERSON!

My poor Cheese is stuck with a dog person! The horror! Its downright wrong! Im a bad pet parent!

Still, it felt really good to be so easily folded into their conversations and bantering like they did. And they don’t seem to mind when I banter back with them. It feels like it used to when I lived in my hometown. Friendly.

I was going to be home tomorrow. Finally sleeping in my own bed with my baby in my arms!

And I could shower in my own shower and cook actual food on a stove and not have to go out for every meal!

I missed home. I missed Cheese.

There were tears, though I didn’t point them out to either Lino or Bin. I just politely ignored their sniffles and quick swiped across their cheeks.

It warmed my heart to know that they liked Cheese so much. He was the best cat ever, so im not shocked. But it makes me feel better since they watched him for me for several days.

I didn’t stay at the Bangchan apartment long. I was exhausted from the flight and week long travel, and I think the boys could see that as well so they didn’t push.

I gave them the several bags of gifts. Everything from keychains to food. Anything I could find that I thought suited the situation.

Hyune and Bin snatched the bags and moved a few feet away to look at everything in excitement. Lino was still standing beside me, petting Cheese who was in my arms. His eyes were still wet and he sniffled occasionally.

“You really didn’t have to get us anything. We enjoyed Cheeses company. It will feel a little lonely here without him to be honest.” Bangchan stated side eyeing his two roommates.

I shook my head with a smile. “It was the very least I could do. I was out of my mind with worry when he was missing and then you took him in for days when I couldn’t find anyone. Trust me, this isn’t even close to enough to show how thankful I am.”

Bangchan smiled sweetly. “Well thank you, im sure we will love everything. As you can see they are already very excited.”

I headed home soon after that. Giving Cheese the lecture of his fuzzy life as I drove. For his part, he listened quietly, but didn’t seem at all fazed.

A/N: okay so since the texts were originally by themselves they don't match up perfectly but bear with me here.

I don't know if anyone will really enjoy this but I wanted to get more detailed my own self so I am writing for me mostly. Self indulgence.

Love you all and thank you for even trying to read. Sorry for errors, I'm hooman 🤷🏻‍♀️

And thank you in advance for any reblogs, notes, comments, tags, replies, and/or anything else. Let's have fun with this together 🩷💙💜

Masterlist

[thewhumpcaretaker]

HENLLOO ✨️💖

I have this idea for some time, and it's something I wanna write one day, BUT I think you'd really like this idea bc it's hurt/comfort and Santino at the beach! I'm curious about your thoughts or if it's inspiring yk 👀

Santino having a wound, that's not fully healed, or not healed at all and he wants to go to the sea to feel that salt kinda "bite" his wound, he wants to feel that pain because he thinks he deserves it or whatever other reason.

John tried to talk him out of it just because he knew it would hurt, but then again, sea water could help the wound heal faster. So, John insists for Santino's own safety that he goes with him. And eventually Santino agrees. Of course it hurt and burned, it's salt on the wound and Santino maybe thought it would be easier but it hurt a lot.

Santino wants to make himself suffer even more 😞

AAAAAAAA this one cut DEEP for me!! Your asks are so good lately (well, always, but especially this one). It's so dark but honestly this is a topic that I love to write about and I think it says a lot about Santino and what he's going through. What a brutal scenario, Santino is really suffering. But John is there to make sure he's safe and build up his self-esteem, as always.

Also, as a note: the ocean is not recommended as a source of salt water to put on a wound even if it does help sometimes, because there's bacteria in the ocean! So don't try this at home.

🖤💙Salt in the Wound💙🖤

TW: self harm via salt water, attempted self harm via breaking and punching things, blaming himself for abuse, concerns over potential suicidal behavior (there is none actually attempted), Dead Dove Do Not Eat

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“I am not leaving you alone like this!”

The bedroom was wrecked in every way that wouldn’t be permanent. Pillows and blankets thrown around the room, the desk overturned, even the curtains torn down. John had stepped in to stop Santino from tearing up his own poetry, but he’d let him flip the chair and splinter its legs against the floor. And why was all of this happening? Because Santino had been punished by a High Table emissary. The Adjudicator and company had approached them in the middle of the Continental lobby, informed Santino that he had broken some inscrutable rule John didn’t even know about, and then slashed him across the gut in front of the whole room of people.

After the wound was patched up he had just sort of…gone quiet. It was obvious he blamed himself. He brooded all the rest of the day, until finally John pressed him about what was wrong and he exploded.

“Fuck off, John! Get your hands off of me!” He had Santino’s arms pinned behind his back so he wouldn’t punch the walls. Reluctantly, he let go, and just as he’d expected, Santino lunged towards the wall. John was too fast and put himself in front of Santino’s fist before he could make contact. Santino stopped short, flushing even harder at the frustration of having to restrain himself in that state.

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

Santino stared at him for a long moment, his jaw set hatefully. Then he turned to walk out.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Through clenched teeth, “The beach.”

Their home was only a short walk from the ocean, and in this mood, Santino could make it there in five minutes. Horrifying scenarios flashed through John’s mind, of Santino walking out into the ocean and never coming back. His heart did a sickening sort of drop. “Why?”

Santino whirled back to him with his chin in the air, the picture of passive aggression and mock innocence. “Salt water is good for healing wounds. You want me to take care of myself so badly? Fine. Maybe I want to go for a swim.”

“That will burn like hell.”

“GOOD. But it’s healthy, so you can’t stop me.”

John practically growled in frustration. He couldn’t argue with that. He just grabbed his coat. “I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not invited.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

Santino’s scowl softened for a fraction of a second, replaced by something miserable and touched. But then he just growled back, grabbed his swim trunks, and marched out the door without another word.

They were silent on the walk to the beach, with the sun sinking down against the waves in reds and oranges as fiery as Santino’s expression. John began to hope that he’d cool down by the time they got there, but he had no such luck. Santino stripped down immediately and threw his clothes in John’s face. He would have laughed at the pettiness of it if he didn’t know how much pain was raging inside of Santino right now. So he just caught them and folded them neatly over his arm so they wouldn’t get covered with sand. Then he crossed his arms and watched from the edge of the water.

With his shirt off, and then his dressing thrown to the ground as well, John could see the red blooming across the slash on Santino’s side. The wound wasn’t deep at all, but it looked awful. It was long – an arc from the top of his ribcage on the right side to below the navel on the left. And it was still bleeding.

Santino took a first step into the water and already flinched. The evening wind was picking up and it was ice cold. “Maybe you should do this tomorrow,” John suggested. “Like noon? When it’s warmer?”

The very idea of sparing himself any pain seemed to just make Santino even more furious. He only turned back long enough to glare at John and then suddenly dashed forward, until the waves were up to his stomach.

Based on the sound he made, it couldn’t have felt good. It was a kind of yelping scream that he bit off with a long stream of swearing in Italian. John frowned hard. He knew what that felt like – he’d been in the ocean after a job before, by necessity, and it stung something awful. But all he could do was watch helplessly. At least Santino was standing still now, and seemed to be reconsidering. He even took a few steps back until the cut was mostly above the water line again.

But irritation with his own weakness seemed to give him a second wind. He plunged back in, up to his chest this time, and screamed again. This time, John couldn’t tell if it was pain or frustration or self-hatred, because it gave out into sobbing. He was crying so badly that John was worried he was going to double over into the waves. “That’s enough. I’m coming out.” He kicked off his shoes and trousers, set down their things, and waded into the frigid water.

He wasn’t sure if Santino heard him or not, because he didn’t move at all until John’s arms were around him.

“Come on, love. Let’s go back to shore, yeah?”

“No. I-I deserve this.” Santino didn’t hug him back. He just stood there shivering terribly.

“Why?”

“Because I fucked up! They had to punish me. And I’m so angry, John. I’m so angry, and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even be angry at them. I just have to play nice because I’m powerless and it’s all my fault.”

“No you don’t. You’re allowed to hate them. You don’t have to hate yourself.” He realized they weren’t just talking about The Adjudicator, but about everyone who had hurt Santino. Especially those who he didn’t couldn’t bring himself to hate. His own father. The water swirling around their bodies was deathly cold and John felt himself starting to shake too, but he ignored it and held Santino as close as he could.

For a second, Santino cried harder against him, but it seemed to bring some kind of cathartic release. Finally, he went calm and hugged John back. He seemed drained. “Okay. This hurts too fucking much anyway. Cazzo, I didn’t expect it to be this bad.” His heart was still racing against John’s chest, probably from sheer pain.

“Yeah…I’m not surprised. Let’s go get the salt out, I brought stuff to take care of it so it doesn't hurt as much on the walk home.”

So Santino allowed himself to be led back to shore. John wrapped him in a towel and poured a fresh water bottle over the cut to rinse it. That stung too, and he was already back to whining about the pain, but John didn’t mind. As long as Santino didn’t want to make himself suffer. He kissed him hard. “You didn’t deserve that.”

He melted into the kiss and stayed curled up against his lover, trying to regain some body heat, but he couldn’t bring himself to reply.

“You didn’t, Santino. They did this to you because they’re on a power trip. Because the whole organization runs by making people feel trapped and small, and it pisses me off.”

His answer was slow and very quiet. “Honestly…I don’t want that to be true. If that’s true, then I have to do something about it.”

“Yeah.” John wove his fingers through Santino’s curls and studied his face. He was so precious, so fierce, so full of life. A world in which a person like Santino could be hurt over and over again until he wanted to hurt himself too wasn’t one that John could stand for. “We have to do something about it.”

[81buttons]

Hi! I love what you write, especially if it’s about Franco! Could you make a story francox reader where their relationship falls apart when he moves from F2 to F1? With all the fame, the girls, the paparazzi, the reader feels more and more left out and is scared he’ll forget her or cheat. Plus, she’s pregnant but hasn’t told him worried he might not want the baby. After a big fight the reader leaves, and Franco finds out the truth when he gets a call from the doctor...

'Driven Apart'

F1- OS

Franco Colapinto x OC

Summary : Franco’s rise in Formula 1 strains his relationship with Sofia, who is secretly pregnant. After a fight, she leaves. Will he win her back?

Warnings: pregnant female OC, and a bit of angst, fight. Short story; English is not my first language

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Franco’s early days in Formula 1 had been a dream come true for him but a quiet nightmare for Sofia. While he was living under the spotlight, racing from one track to another, with VIP events and interviews, Sofia found herself alone, torn between worry and secrets. Pregnant for a few weeks now, she hadn’t dared to tell him, overwhelmed by the fear that he might not be ready for fatherhood, especially now that he was living life at full speed. Gradually, she faded into the background of his life, unsure of where she stood in their relationship.

One night, when he returned from an especially intense race, Franco found Sofia sitting on the couch, arms crossed, her face clouded with concern. The tension was thick in the air, almost tangible, and the laughter and warmth that had once filled their apartment had vanished, leaving a heavy silence in its place.

“You’re home late,” Sofia started, her voice trembling, carrying a sadness she couldn’t hide.

“Sorry, but you know how it is. The interviews, the sponsors…” he replied, sounding tired, as if the routine itself had worn him out.

“Sponsors?” Sofia let out a bitter laugh. “You mean the models and groupies that are always around you after every race, Franco? I’m not stupid.”

Franco sighed, running a hand through his hair, a habit he’d picked up whenever he felt stressed. “Sofia, do you even realize what you’re saying? They’re just fans, that’s all. It’s my job now.”

“Your job?” she snapped, her voice shaking with anger and frustration. “Your job keeps you so busy that I don’t even recognize you anymore. And as for me, I feel like I don’t even exist to you.”

Franco, feeling cornered, raised his voice in return. “Sofia, you knew what you were getting into. Formula 1 was my dream from the start, you were the first to know that. I thought you’d support me!”

She clenched her fists, her eyes filling with tears. “Is that all you see? That I’m not supporting you? Maybe if you were here, even a little, you’d see what I’m going through too! But no, you’re too busy living your dream, surrounded by people who don’t even really know you.”

Franco felt anger rising in him. “So what? You’d want me to give it all up just to make you feel better? To be with you every single night? Maybe you’re worrying over nothing, Sofia.”

Those words broke her heart, and she fired back, hurt. “Maybe you’re so wrapped up in becoming this big racer that you’re forgetting who you are. Franco, I don’t even recognize you anymore…”

Franco, stung by pride, replied harshly, “Maybe it’s you who can’t keep up, Sofia. Maybe you don’t understand that this world—this is my reality now. If you can’t accept it, maybe you should leave.”

The silence that followed was like a cold blade. Sofia stared at him, her tears streaming down. The words he’d just spoken were like a punch to the gut. She could no longer contain her pain.

“Fine, Franco,” she murmured, swallowing her tears, her voice heavy with heartbreak. “If that’s what you want, I’ll go.”

Without another word, she grabbed her bag and left the apartment, leaving Franco alone to face the weight of his own words. As he heard the door slam behind her, a wave of regret hit him. But his pride held him back from running after her. It was just a fight, he told himself, convinced she’d come back.

The next morning, around noon, Franco got an unexpected call. The number was from Sofia’s clinic. A chill ran down his spine, a silent panic settling in his gut.

“Hello, Mr. Colapinto. I’m calling you regarding Ms. Sofia Martinez. She came in last week for a pregnancy check-up and…”

Franco froze, his heart pounding in his chest as the reality sank in. “Pregnancy?”

“Yes, she’s about three months along. We’ve tried reaching her, but she hasn’t answered. We just wanted to confirm her next appointments.”

The doctor kept talking, but Franco could barely hear. A mix of shock, regret, and love overwhelmed him. Sofia was pregnant, and he hadn’t even noticed what she was going through. He suddenly understood the full extent of her pain and loneliness.

Without wasting another second, he hung up and went out looking for her, his heart heavy with remorse. He tried calling her, texting her, but she didn’t answer. After hours of searching, he remembered the one place she’d always go when she needed to clear her head: a small, quiet park where they used to walk together, away from the world, hidden from prying eyes.

He found her sitting on a bench, staring blankly into the distance. She looked exhausted, but still beautiful, even in her sorrow. Franco approached slowly, taking a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Sofia…” he whispered, afraid to shatter the silence around them.

She looked up at him, and he saw the tears she was holding back. “What are you doing here, Franco?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

“I came to apologize. I came to tell you how sorry I am… and how much of a fool I’ve been.”

She stayed silent, her gaze fixed on the ground, as he continued, his heart weighed down by guilt.

“I didn’t understand. Everything you were going through… I didn’t even know you were pregnant. Sofia, I was selfish.”

She looked away, hurt. “I wanted to tell you, Franco. But I was scared… scared that you didn’t want this life, scared that this dream would make you forget me.”

He gently took her hand, holding it between his. “Sofia, I don’t want to lose you. Not now, not ever. I’m ready to change, to be there for you, for us, for this baby.”

She looked at him, moved but hesitant, her heart torn between anger and love. “You know, Franco, words aren’t always enough.”

He held her hand a bit tighter, trying to convey all his love and determination. “Then let me prove it to you. Give me a chance to fix what I’ve broken.”

After a moment of silence, she sighed softly, offering him a faint, fragile smile. “Franco, I trust you, but I don’t want to be left alone anymore.”

He wrapped his arms around her, whispering in her ear, promising to do everything he could to make her happy. “Never again, Sofia. Never again.”

At that moment, they both realized that their love could overcome any trial, as long as they stayed together, ready to face life’s challenges as one.