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tropes-and-tales · 1 month ago

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🥰 FINALLY

(Frankie "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader)

CW: Angst; talk of addiction; talk of failed relationships. Smut (PiV, unprotected). 18+ only.

Word Count: 6734

AN: This was originally requested by @elegantmusicdragon, and it's a sequel to this!

There’s no pretending they don’t know.

Will saw it firsthand. Pope heard it, then got text confirmation from Will. Ben slept through all of it, but when he wakes early in the morning, he looks across the loft and sees his brother in the wan pre-dawn light, staring at the ceiling with a haunted look on his face.

A bit of prodding later, he finds out what he missed while he slept.

You and Fish, fucking. You and Fish, the two members of the team who squabble and irritate each other the most, who sometimes outright fight and sometimes require someone else—Will, usually—to referee.

You and Fish. You thought you were quiet, but by morning, everyone knows.

And worse, you and Fish know they know. After you finished, quiet as you could be, both of your cell phones pinged with a string of incoming messages. From Pope.

Pope: 👏👏👏👏

Pope: excellent work you two

Pope: 🍆 💦💦💦💦

Pope: seriously tho ur both gross

Pope: but congrats happy for u

You read the messages and felt a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, but when you glanced over at Frankie, he only raked his hand through his hair and muttered, “fuck.”

-----

Breakfast is a surreal affair. No one says anything at first, so the only sounds are forks and spoons clinking against dishes. Chewing. Benny, doing his usual gross early morning phlegm-clearing cough.

Your face burns in embarrassment. Frankie keeps his eyes fixed on his scrambled eggs, which he only pushes around with the tines of his fork. You can feel Pope’s eyes on you, Will’s eyes, and the cabin is full of anticipation.

Pope’s the one who breaks it. He clears his throat, asks in a tone that’s phony-casual, “everyone sleep okay?”

“I didn’t,” Will replies. “Thought I heard something last night.”

“Outside?�� Again, Pope’s voice is fake, an edge of chipper teasing in it.

“Sounded like something got into the cabin.”

Pope pulls a thoughtful face. “Y’know, I think I heard something too. Kinda like a wounded animal? Two wounded animals, grunting and moaning—”

Frankie huffs out a heavy sigh, and you slouch lower in your chair. Benny grins around his mug of coffee and adds, “it is mating season, I think.”

Pope snaps his finger, a eureka sort of gesture. “That must be it! We must have come here during mating season and just didn’t realize it. Wild. Who knew?”

You chafe at the word mating, which makes it sound like you and Frankie are…well, mates, so you mutter, “it’s just hooking up,” which makes Frankie sigh again, because that launches Pope into a blistering lecture about responsibility and poor choices and Jesus Christ, you two, are you even using protection? Are you at least being safe, because you sure as shit aren’t being smart?

You mumble a defensive comment that it isn’t his business (though you’re on birth control, you sure as hell aren’t admitting it to the guys—Frankie knows, and that’s all that matters), and then you find the strength to stand up, announce that you’re going for a walk down to the lake, and if they care to speculate further on your reproductive health, they can do so without your presence.

*****

Frankie can’t remember the last time he has been so mortified.

No, scratch that. He can remember. It was when he was in the throes of his addiction, and you ambushed him with an intervention. Now, a full year after that, he sees the love and care that went into it, but at the time, he felt a furious blend of anger and frustration and mortification.

This is like that, albeit less strong…but incredibly fresh.

After you march off—abandoning him, naturally—he lets the guys get their shots in. He clenches his jaw and fixes his gaze somewhere over Pope’s head, at a pattern of knots in the wood paneling on the wall. He tries to let their ribbing wash over him, but he takes each comment personally.

And he’s embarrassed. It would be one thing to be caught with a random woman from, say, a bar or a party. You, though? It feels like a weakness, a failure of character, to be caught fucking someone he barely gets along with. Pathetic, like he can’t do better. Like he couldn’t find a woman who simpers for him, who is eager to impress him, who is impressed by him. Like he’s had to settle for someone who rolls her eyes at him, who snarks at him, who doesn't think that highly of him.

Someone who saw him at his weakest, when he was addicted to coke. Someone who rolled her eyes and marched in to save the day.

Weak. Pathetic.

Frankie stews. The guys wear themselves out, split up. Benny goes to find you on your march down to the lake. He says he’ll calm you down, soothe your chagrined soul and smooth you out. Pope disappears into his room to take a work call, since he has a new contract coming up in a few days.

It leaves Frankie and Will. Frankie stands up from the table and makes his way out to the front porch, and Will follows. Frankie heaves himself onto the porch swing, and he sets a rhythm of fast, jerky swinging. Back and forth. Back and forth. He swings in time to his pounding heart, the headache forming at the base of his skull.

Will settles on the step and stretches his leg out. He turns his face to the rising sun, and he’s silent for a long moment.

“You okay?” he finally asks. There’s no teasing in his voice. He sounds genuine.

“Great.” Frankie spits it out, sarcastic.

Will jerks his chin in the direction of the cabin door. “You know we’re just teasing.”

“Yeah.”

Will hesitates before he asks, “is it really just hooking up?”

Frankie sighs. “Obviously.”

Another beat of hesitation. “You don’t have feelings for her?”

That pulls a bitter laugh from Frankie. “Obviously not.”

“Thing is, it’s not so obvious.” Will turns his head and fixes Frankie with an appraising look that Frankie doesn’t like. He meets his eye for a beat, then slides his own gaze away, looks past Will to the clearing where the fire pit is. That first evening here seems a million years ago, though it was only a couple of days.

“It’s just that you two make a weird sort of sense,” Will continues. “You’re so similar—”

“We’re nothing alike.” Frankie cuts him off tersely. “We don’t have a damned thing in common other than a shared history.”

“You’re both stubborn. You’re both strong-willed people, and you both obviously care about each other—”

“No. Nope.” He cuts him off again, and all of those bad feelings—mortification being the strongest—bubble up in him.

“I don’t care about her. Are you kidding? It was just hooking up. She was available, and it was convenient, and that’s it.”

There’s venom behind his words, a force fed by his deep embarrassment to have been caught with you. It makes his voice carry just enough that you and Ben both hear it as you walk back from the lake. Will sees you first, makes a noise in the back of his throat as he catches your expression—the hurt there, the pain that Frankie’s words cause—and then Frankie sees you too.

“Hey,” he starts to say, but you wave him off, tell him it’s fine, you’re fine…and in all the years that Frankie has known you, this is the first time you lie to him.

-----

The weekend ends on a sour note.

There’s no fight between you and Frankie, and that hurts the most. For as much as you bicker, you go silent now. When you talk to him, you’re flat. Polite. Distant.

Pope needs to head back early to get back to Colombia, and you catch a ride with him.

“Got things I need to do,” you say, and everyone knows it’s a lie, but no one knows how to call you out on it. You’re hurt, Frankie has hurt you and the guys fed into the bad feelings that led to that hurt, and everyone parts in a low mood.

A hundred times Frankie’s finger hovers over your name on his phone. A hundred times he starts to craft a message in his head, only to toss the phone aside.

A hundred times he struggles to fall asleep because he cannot get your face out of his head. That look of surprise and hurt, and all his fault because he was an asshole who was embarrassed to be caught hooking up with you.

No, not was an asshole. Is an asshole. Because a hundred times he thinks he’ll summon the courage to reach out, but a hundred times, he fails.

-----

He doesn’t see you for six months. He don’t talk to you directly, and the best he gets is your short, clipped responses in the gang’s group chat. Even there, you tend to go silent.

He dare not ask one of the guys how you’re doing. He sees the Miller brothers the most, talks to Pope only sometimes, and maybe there’s a separate group chat because it seems as though the three of them have reached some agreement to never mention you around Frankie.

Six months. Half a year after the cabin by the lake. How does Frankie spend his time? Lonely, mostly. He goes to work, then goes home. He goes to meetings once a week, but he rarely has cravings and has less pressure to use. He started using before because he just had too much going on—work and married life, Pope’s scheming to make them all millionaires, Tom’s death. Now Frankie has very little. Just a job. Just a small apartment where he sits alone on his secondhand couch and eats microwaved leftovers while the TV plays at a low volume.

A hundred times he thinks to call you. A hundred times he thinks to drive to where you live—one town over, but only a fifteen minute drive. He could apologize; he could try to understand why you looked so hurt. Of course he cares for you, deep down, but it isn’t love…or was it?

A hundred times that question floats to the front of his mind, and a hundred times he shoves it down, ignores it, waits for it to recede from his thoughts.

-----

Six months after the cabin by the lake, Frankie sees you again. Pope is in town for his birthday. His latest contract has ended, the next one hasn’t begun, and he has a stretch of time to visit and gorge himself on all the things he can’t get overseas.

His birthday is held at Will and Benny’s place. When Frankie rolls up a solid half hour late, though, Will is outside waiting for him.

“How’s it going?” he asks, and the two exchange their usual handshake into a half-hug.

“Good. You?”

“Good.” Will jams his hands in his pockets and fixes Frankie with a curious look. “She’s in there, you know.”

It says a lot that the she in this case is you and not his ex-wife, who arguably would put the guys more on alert. How have you managed to reach such a dubious place of honor?

Frankie tries to sound casual. “Yeah, I figured.” A beat, and he adds, “don’t worry. I don’t plan on fighting with her. It’s Pope’s night.”

Will furrows his brow at that, shakes his head faintly. “Yeah, I know. But Frankie, she’s in there with someone else. Pope’s buddy, remember?”

-----

Fucking Paolo.

Fucking recently-divorced, recently-cheated on, sad piece of shit Paolo. Pope’s buddy that he tried—and apparently succeeded at—setting you up with at the cabin.

Thing is, the guy isn’t a sad piece of shit. Or a troll, as Frankie had teased you at the cabin. The man is handsome; an easy smile and warm eyes. Hair that looks great but like he didn’t try to make it look great. Clothing well-fitted and well-made, but not obnoxiously designer. Good handshake, when Frankie is introduced. A genuine ‘nice to meet you’ in accented English.

Frankie’s jealousy, as it turns out, is wide and deep and never-ending.

Because for fuck’s sake, you look happy. Relaxed. Paolo puts his hand on your lower back and leads you to get fresh drinks. He slings an arm around your waist as you stand and chat with Pope. He turns and whispers something in your ear that makes you giggle, and how is Frankie just now learning that you fucking giggle, and that it sounds cute on you, a musical little laugh that makes his stomach turn because he’s never drawn such a sound from you?

And Paolo must smooth out your rough edges because you gift Frankie a little smile and ask how he’s been, and there’s no venom behind the question. No lingering bad will.

You’ve moved on, it seems, and it hits Frankie harder than he thought it would. He ends up leaving after only a few hours, lies and says he’s coming down with something, but he takes one backwards glance at you before he goes.

You aren’t looking at him at all. You’re looking—gazing—at fucking Paolo’s handsome fucking face, and Frankie’s first thought is she never looked at me like that.

His second thought is maybe I never gave her a reason to look at me like that.

-----

Frankie sees you once a few months after Pope’s birthday, by accident at the grocery store. You’re alone and frowning slightly in the produce section, looking at the selection of apples on display. Paolo is nowhere in sight, but that doesn’t mean anything.

You don’t see Frankie. He stands by the cut flowers and studies you from under the brim of his hat, and he half-hopes you turn and see him. He half-hopes you don’t. He stands by a bucket of cheerful daisies and wonders if Paolo brings you flowers.

He half-hopes the man does, because you deserve flowers. He half-hopes he doesn’t, because Frankie is jealous and hates the thought that Paolo has only known you for a fraction of time—far less than Frankie has known you—and is still probably that much better for you than Frankie would have been.

Frankie doesn’t know what to do with himself. His thumb still hovers over your contact information in the still, quiet hours of the night.

He thinks of the intervention you staged for him. He had stormed out, furious to be so embarrassed and exposed, and you had followed.

He remembers you stopping him, your hands turning him to face you. Your hands gripping either side of his face as you stared deep into his eyes and pleaded with him to get his shit together.

It’s as good of advice now as it was then.

-----

A year after the cabin by the lake, and everyone returns to the cabin by the lake.

Frankie hesitates when Will calls for his confirmation. Will must guess why, because Will not-so-casually mentions that it’s just the core folks, you and Frankie and Pope and the Millers. No plus-ones.

“Just us,” Will reminds him. “To remember Tom.”

So fucking Paolo won’t be there with his nice smile and nice hair and his hand resting lightly on your back, and Frankie agrees to come.

When he arrives, it is just like the year before. Pope pulls rank and calls dibs on the lone single bedroom. The Miller brothers scamper up to the loft like children, poking at each other and laughing the whole way.

Which leaves you and Frankie exactly where you were a year ago. Awkwardly sharing the living room with the lumpy couch and a mattress on the floor. Frankie glances at you, opens his mouth to say something, but Pope—who tosses his bag into the bedroom, then strides back out—comes up to you and pulls you into a hug that kind of looks like a headlock.

“Sorry to hear about it,” he says, and Frankie is bewildered for a beat before Pope adds, “for the record, I told him he was being fucking stupid.”

His mind guesses that this is about Paolo, but his mouth, which often operates independently of his mind, blurts out, “did you break up?”

You peer out at him from where Pope has you tucked against him, and grumble, “how’d you say it last year? I’d only disappoint him.”

Frankie sucks in a breath, remembers the shot he took at you. He shakes his head, ashamed at the memory, but doesn’t say anything.

“No. No, no, no.” Pope adjusts his hold, puts you in an actual headlock. He glances over at Frankie and clarifies, “he got back together with his ex-wife.”

“She was better than me,” you chime in, and it sounds muffled.

“Nope again. She’s a cheater, and she’ll cheat again, and you’ll be off with someone far better.” Pope adjusts his hold as you struggle against him, and he adds, “now say something nice about yourself. No feeling sorry, so say something nice.”

“I’m a good cook.” It’s muffled again; your face is pressed against Pope’s side where he holds you fast.

“No good. I mean, you’re a good cook, yes, but you learned that. It’s not essential to who you are.”

“Pope, c’mon,” you whine. “Lemme go.”

“Not until you say it.”

Frankie smiles at the exchange, but he puzzles over it too. He wonders at the relationship you have with Pope, separate from him and the other guys. He supposes he’s never considered it—he always thought you and he had a separate thing, but never considered how you got on with Pope or Will or Ben independent of him, separate from the broader group.

But Paolo was Pope’s friend too, and Frankie wonders how much Pope hyped you up to Paolo and vice versa. And how much Pope has been there for you now that it’s ended, perhaps feeling guilty to have it go sideways on you.

Hence this little game that seems well-established: Pope holding you in a headlock, forcing you to speak well of yourself.

“I’m…loyal,” you finally concede.

Pope shoots Frankie a grin and replies, “yes, you are. You’re good as gold.”

But he doesn’t release you quick enough, and you get enough of an arm free to lightly sucker punch him low in the stomach, and Frankie smiles wider because that’s the you he recognizes best—the one who puts up with shit to a certain level, then comes out swinging.

-----

The first night this time is much the same as the last time. There’s a bonfire, a cooler of beers, laughter. Loons call across the water to each other, and sparks from the fire drift on the updraft to merge with the stars glimmering above them.

Frankie feels restless. He fiddles with his bottle of beer, rolls it between his palms, peels the label. He hasn’t seen you in so long, hasn’t talked to you for even longer, and now you’re sitting across the fire ring from him. Your face is gilded orange and gold in the flames, and while you laugh with them, you seem a touch sad. Quieter than usual.

When everyone finally turns in, he offers you the mattress on the floor. For the first time since you’ve arrived, you pause and look at him. Actually look at him: meet his eyes, study his face.

“The couch is lumpy,” you remind him. “Your back.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Nah, I’m okay.” You turn away and shake out the folded blanket, and Frankie despairs at how polite and distant you are now. His own fault, but he loathes it. He wishes you’d squabble with him again, pick a fight, tease him until he huffs in frustration.

“Hey, can we talk?” he asks. He watches you lie down. You punch at the pillow, turn on your side, then settle and sigh.

“I’d rather not, Fish.”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry—”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “For Paolo? You kinda said it would go down the exact way it went down.”

He shakes his head. “No, but I should have never said that—”

“It’s fine.”

“I meant, I wanted to say I’m sorry for before.”

“Oh.”

“Here, last year.” He swallows and studies your expression, which gives nothing away. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was cruel, and—”

“I get it. I remember. It’s fine, Fish. Everything’s fine.”

He wants to add more, but you roll over to face the back of the couch, your back to him. It occurs a moment later that you’re still lying to him, because you’ve just said everything was fine at least four times in the past five minutes, and he gets the distinct impression that nothing is fine.

-----

The next day, you hike again. It’s a different route this time, and the summit is different but the view is the same, just a different angle: placid lake below, brilliant blue sky above, and a picnic lunch spread out on the rock.

Frankie has done a lot of work on himself. In the past months, he’s learned to stop thinking of himself as a fixed point. Life is not a ladder, as he always imagined. He can change and adapt and not think himself weak for backing up and taking a different route when the first route proves to be a dead end.

Case in point: you and your occasional balking as you hike down a mountain. There’s a stretch that is dicey, loose graveled and steep, and sure enough, you falter, then freeze.

Frankie from last year got impatient with you, and left you behind for Benny to rescue.

Frankie from this year recognizes that your fear isn’t a personal failing. It’s a quirk. It makes you you, and how he reacts now is what makes him him. The new and improved Frankie. Less of an asshole. Back up, try a new way.

“Take your time,” he tells you now. “There’s no rush.”

You don’t seem to hear him. You’re so used to him being frustrated that you say, plaintive, “just go around, Fish.”

A breath. New and improved Frankie. “No, I’ll wait for you. I’m here.”

You glance at him, and he sees the whites of your eyes: the fear there. He regrets that he wasn’t patient with you before. Another breath, like his therapist taught him. He feels the regret, then lets it go. He reminds himself that he can be better now.

Frankie reaches out a hand to you. “C’mon,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

Of course you stare at him a long moment like he’s grown two heads. Like he’s been replaced by some alien double who is kind instead of snappish.

You end up taking his hand, though, and he grips you firmly, takes you step by step out of the perilous stretch of the trail.

-----

Dinner is Pope on steaks, you on pasta and vegetables again. Benny, who took an internet wine course to impress a girl, pops the corks on a few bottles of middle shelf vintage. He explains about how it has to breathe, how it has to release the bouquet until Pope steps away from the steaks to smack him upside his head.

New and improved Frankie. When the dinner conversation touches on your breakup, he murmurs his consolations. When Pope gives the entire history of Paolo and his volatile ex-wife, he clicks his tongue and shakes his head in disgust.

New and improved Frankie. He tells you your contributions to the meal are delicious, and he misses the sly look that Will gives to Pope because Frankie is too focused on you. Your face twists in confusion at his praise, and you reply a beat later with a lilt of questioning, “thank you?”

-----

New and improved Frankie. He manages to beat you to the living room before bed, and he snags the couch while you’re brushing your teeth. You stop in your tracks when you see him, and you narrow your eyes.

“Take the mattress tonight,” he says. He ignores the spring in the couch digging into the left side of his ass. “Seriously.”

The guys are all already tucked into their own beds, so when you put your hands on your hips and demand to know what the hell is wrong with him, you keep your voice low.

“Nothing wrong with me.”

You don’t buy it, but your scowl softens. “Frankie, are you using again?”

He laughs. Of course you’d associate his attempts at niceness with drugs.

“Not at all. I’m at about eighteen months clean.”

That replaces your scowl with a smile. A genuine one. “Oh, Fish. Congratulations.”

“It’s thanks to you.”

“Nah. You’re the one who did the hard work.”

“You’re the one who saw I had a problem.”

“The guys noticed it too.”

“Yeah, but.” He takes a breath. “You’re the one who took action. You probably saved my life.”

You wave him off, and you kneel down on the mattress, then sit cross-legged and look at him. “You give me too much credit, Fish.”

That makes him shake his head. “No, I never gave you enough credit. I was married, remember. Sophie never noticed, and if she did, she didn’t set up an intervention. It was all you.”

Something about being so open makes you uncomfortable. You fold your hands in your lap and look down at them. “Where is all this coming from?” Your voice is quiet, and Frankie has to strain to hear you.

“What do you mean?”

A sigh. “I mean, I don’t want you to be nice because I got dumped. I hate pity.”

He sits up a bit, props himself on his elbow and watches you. “It’s not pity.”

“Then why are you being so nice? We haven’t argued once and it’s been over a day.” You glance over at him, your hands twisting in your lap restlessly.

He sits up completely and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “I hated the way I left things with you before.” A pause. “Remember what you told me at my intervention? You said I had to get my shit together. I thought, ‘okay, I’m clean now, I have some clean months behind me. So why am I still so fucking miserable to be with?’”

“Fish, you aren’t miserable to be—”

“I am.” He cuts you off. “And I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be the man who makes you feel like shit because I’m embarrassed we got caught hooking up. You’re not something to be ashamed of, and I acted like a complete asshole.”

The corner of your mouth twitches in a sardonic smile. “The guys were being obnoxious.”

“And I should have been obnoxious back. I could have talked you up. Talked us up. Instead of being a dick, I could have said, ‘yeah, we’re hooking up, and it’s amazing, so be jealous about it because you’re all single with no prospects.’”

“We were technically single too.”

He nods, serious. “Yeah, we were, but maybe we shouldn’t have been.”

That makes you laugh; an honest-to-god belly laugh that has you wrapping your arms around your stomach. Frankie winces, glances up at the loft where the Miller brothers are theoretically sleeping, then he pushes the worry aside. Who gives a shit if they hear you laughing with him?

When he doesn’t laugh too, your laughter dies down. “Wait, you’re not joking?”

“No.”

A long pause with the two of you watching each other. “…and you’re sure you’re not using?”

“I’m sure. I had a piss test last week for work.”

“…okay.”

He sighs and holds his hands out to you, palms up. Entreating. “I’ve been seeing a therapist. Yes, it feels like bullshit, but it’s something, you know? Having a third party to bounce my bad memories against. My bad feelings. He’s helped me figure out some stuff.”

You blink at him in sincere surprise. “I’m proud of you, Fish.”

That makes a warm flush course through him, you being proud of him. “It’s a cliché, but there’s shit from childhood that really can fuck a person up as an adult, you know?”

“Oh, I know it. Eldest daughter, right here. Child of functional alcoholics.”

“I guess I always had this set idea in my head of how life was gonna be, and when it was not that, when it turned out to be something that I constantly had to work out, I didn’t know how to handle that,” he admits.

“I get that too.” You nod along, and you stop fiddling with your hands.

Frankie takes a deep breath and plunges ahead. He has to get it out, and he has your attention.

“And, you know, I had set ideas about relationships. Women. Marriage.”

The sardonic smile returns. “Here we go.”

“I was trying to recreate a perfect version of my parents’ marriage,” he admits. It took some deep work to realize it. Talking in therapy, dredging up memories he thought he had buried nice and deep. “I thought if I could do it like them, but better, I would have won.”

“Won what, exactly?” you ask softly.

“Life? I don’t even know. It sounds stupid to say it out loud, but I thought it would mean that I had succeeded as an adult. As a man. Like people would look at me and be impressed.”

He glances at you, and you nod encouragingly. He takes another deep breath, and he asks you to just listen to the next part, to not interrupt. To let him get it all out before you stop listening.

“Okay.” Another nod, and you settle your hands in your lap again and hold them there.

“So I tried to recreate my parents’ marriage, right? I found a woman a lot like my mom. Traditional, stay at home. Sophie wanted to be taken care of, you know. She didn’t want to work. She wanted someone to make the decisions for her on all the big adult stuff. She wanted to keep house and have kids and be a soccer mom. Make homemade Halloween costumes and throw elaborate birthday parties for our four or five children, and there was nothing wrong with that. I thought she’d be better than my mom, an actual mom, you know? Not someone to get bitter about her missed opportunities and tell her kids how she sacrificed everything for them. Because that’s what my childhood was like. My mom always couched everything in what she gave up, like me or my brothers asked to be born.”

He pauses, catches his breath. You’re watching him, expectant, so he continues.

“And meanwhile, I thought I’d be the best husband. The best dad. I had a military career, and they trained me to fly helicopters. I was so much further ahead than my own dad, who drove a tow truck. He worked hard all day, then came home to a bitter wife. The best thing in his life was drinking cheap beer in the garage and hiding from her, and here I was, married to Sophie with a good military job and benefits, and I should have been so happy to be winning.”

“But you weren’t,” you say gently. It isn’t a question.

He shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t. And I didn’t know why. I started to resent Soph for never making a decision. Mortgage went up because property taxes went up? Not her problem. Roof needed replaced? I had to figure it out. Car registration expired while I was overseas, and she got a ticket? Somehow I had to solve it from the middle of goddamned Afghanistan. We didn’t even have kids yet, and I was feeling all this pressure to be an adult for both of us. When I got back home on leave, she tells me that she’s stopped her birth control, and I just…cracked.”

“I get it, Fish. I mean, not being married, but I get how it feels to expect one thing in your life and have the opposite happen.”

He holds up a palm to remind you to let him get it all out, and you whisper “sorry. Go ‘head.”

“And then there was you. The complete opposite of Soph, you know? You were…are this super independent woman, and whenever we were stuck overseas and Soph was struggling with running a house stateside, you were just there, chirping about what she needed to do. Like it was nothing. And I got irritated with you because you are just so damned pulled together and even-keeled and…and easy. It’s so easy with you, and I hated it because I knew I made the wrong choice after all. I tried so hard to avoid my parents’ marriage’s pitfalls that I just fell into the same pattern even harder, and you were the one who showed me that.”

He watches to see how his words land. When you blink at him, he sees a film of tears there, so he plunges forward to get the rest out.

“I didn’t even realize that I loved you. That’s how fucked in the head I was. I picked fights with you and told the guys how irritating I thought you were, and you stuck to me anyway. I could never shake you off. We mustered out and you saw me drowning in my addiction, and I still told myself that I didn’t like you, didn’t care about you. I got divorced, and we started hooking up, and I swear to god, sweetheart, hand up to god: the first time we slept together, it felt like I was finally home, and I still couldn’t admit it to myself. I kept telling you each time that it was the last time but I kept coming back for more because you feel like home and I loved you, but I fucked it all up because I didn’t understand who I was or what I wanted.”

He stops there, spent. He feels like he’s been emptied out, and he stares down at his own clenched hands and waits for you to say something. Anything.

There’s a long, long moment of silence. He hears the loons on the lake and the wind rustling the trees outside, but you don’t say anything for so long.

Then you breathe out his name, an “oh, Frankie,” and when he looks up, he sees the tears streaming down your face.

“I mean it,” he adds softly. “I’m sorry, but I mean it. I love you. I’ve probably always loved you. Thinking back, I can’t remember a time I didn’t. I just didn’t realize it.”

You’re crying openly now, but you’re trying to be quiet. Frankie doesn’t even think of the guys nearby; he stands up and makes his way to where you sit on the mattress, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters against the side of your head, and he has no idea what you’re thinking—if you’re horrified or embarrassed or something else by his admission. It’s out now, though. He can’t take it back, and he doesn’t think he would want to take it back anyway.

It takes another long moment of him holding you awkwardly, you trying not to cry too loudly. But then you give a weak laugh, and whisper hoarsely, “I really thought you were on drugs again.”

“Therapy is sometimes harder than sobriety.”

You pull away a little and stare at him with eyes brilliant with tears. “Would you have said anything if I were still with Paolo?”

“Maybe. I might have changed the messaging. I wouldn’t have wanted to get in the middle of anything.”

You chuck him weakly on his bicep. “I’ve missed you, you asshole. And I wasn’t expecting any of this.”

He grins down at you. “If you feel too out of sorts, we could argue.”

“Yeah?”

“You pointed out that we haven’t argued once yet.”

“Feels weird.”

“It does. Want a big fight or just a little one?”

“Might as well go big. It’s been so long.”

Frankie chuckles. He releases you. He holds his hands up and makes a ‘gimme’ gesture with them. A ‘give me your best shot’ gesture.

“C’mon then. Let’s hear it,” he says.

You smile and swipe at your wet eyes. “Okay. You’re a real fucking piece of work, dropping all this heavy shit on me out of nowhere.”

“Maybe you’re a real fucking piece of work to have never guessed.”

A laugh of surprise erupts out of you. “How in the hell would I ever have guessed that?”

“You notice everything else. You noticed I was using before.”

“So you dropping a ton of weight and looking like shit from coke is the same as being in love?”

“With you?” he scoffs. “Absolutely. Can’t sleep, no appetite, can’t think straight ‘cos of you—”

“Fuck you, Fish,” you say, and then you’re on him, your mouth sliding over his, and it feels just as he said: you feel just like home. It stretches out, long and eager, the two of you obviously missing each other and making up for lost time. Too much lost time.

He breaks the kiss long enough to get you turned and under him, to get your thin cotton shorts down around your ankles, to get his own pajama pants down enough to free his hardening cock. He bullies himself between your thighs but you spread yourself wide eagerly. You grasp the back of his neck with one hand, but you reach down with your other hand, take him in hand, and stroke him to his full length. He touches you between your legs, feels you growing wet and slick for him, and it’s just like home when he kisses you, and it’s just like home when he notches himself against your entrance and then slides into you.

What’s new, though, is how he drops his head so his mouth is near your ear, and he whispers, “god, I love you so fucking much.”

It’s new, too, how you clench down at those words, then turn his head to make him look at you, so he can see your eyes when you whisper back, “I love you too, Frankie. Always.”

*****

In the past year, Pope has obtained a prescription for medication to help him sleep, so he misses the texts flying in the shadow group chat that is just him and Miller brothers. He only reads them when he wakes up to birdsong outside his window.

Will: u hearing this?

Will: Pope. POPE.

Benny: Wkae up, asshole.

Will: u will never guess what’s happening

Benny: 🍆🍑💦

Will: Fish told her he loved her.

Benny: bro, wake the fuck up. This is wild.

Will: HE SAID HE LOVES HER

Benny: disgusting but wild

Will: I think she said it back

It’s five in the morning when Pope wakes up and reads the texts. He grins, and he wonders if Benny realizes that the peach emoji usually is a stand-in for an ass, which means Benny was implying that you and Fish had anal sex while they all slept nearby, which seems unlikely.

Pope climbs out of bed quietly to use the bathroom, and it takes him through the living room where you and Frankie are asleep. Together, he notes. You’re both fully clothed—thank Christ for small miracles—but you’re together on the mattress on the floor. Frankie’s arm is over your waist, and your hand lightly circles his wrist.

Fucking gross.

But also fucking adorable.

Pope uses the bathroom, then tiptoes back to his bed. He re-reads the texts, then types out his reply to Will and Benny.

Pope: 🥰

Pope: FINALLY.

#kinktober2024 #clear the inbox 2024 #tropes and tales #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales imagine #triple frontier

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nerdy-novelist017 · 3 months ago

Note

omg i love ur writing sm✨🩷💋

do u think u could write sumthin like benny coming home to finding u snuggled up on the couch in one of his huge shirts?????

Thank you for this super sweet request, Anon! Sorry I've been taking forever to get around to the requests, but I'm trying to get back into the routine of working on them a little bit every day. Hope you enjoy!

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 1.1k+

T-Shirts (Benny Cross x Shy! Reader)

Benny cursed under his breath as he stumbled over the threshold of the front door. He’d been out with the Vandals, not an actual meeting, just a night out with a few of the main members. He’d invited you as he always did, but you declined. You had told him that you wanted to have some alone time after a long day at work. He understood – girls needed their ‘me time’ to pamper themselves or whatever, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to miss you. You were sometimes all consuming to him, his thoughts almost always ran back to you. Johnny and the boys could see it, anyone that really knew Benny (few as they were) knew he was completely infatuated with you. He was drunk off your touch, your voice, your smile. How could he be separated from you for long? So as the night progressed and he accepted more whiskeys being slid in his direction, his thoughts of you became more hazy, more melancholic and finally Johnny took pity on him and told him to go home.

The slight buzz from the beers he had early did not mix well with the lack of lights. Usually, you left on the front porch light for him when you knew he would be out late and you were going to bed early. But it wasn’t the case tonight he realized as all the lights in the main level of your house were turned off. As he tossed his bike keys onto the entryway table and flipped on a light, he wondered briefly in his intoxicated mind if you were upset with him and this was your passive aggressive way of punishing him for staying out late, but that theory quickly diminished when he caught sight of the couch. At first glance, it looked like just a pile of throw blankets, but he was convinced he could spot your familiar form no matter how much light there was in the room.

He slipped out of his boots and jacket, standing there for a moment longer in appreciation. A lovestruck smile overtook his face at the view of you curled into your side, that yellow blanket with white flowers (one you had begged him to buy when you first moved in together, stating that it was the perfect piece to pull the room together. He honestly couldn’t have cared less about the living room or its decor, but the smile on your face when he put it in the shopping cart made it suddenly the most important detail.) pulled over your body, a forgotten book laying face down on your chest – a clear indication that you had once again fallen asleep while reading. Your mouth slightly agape, your features looked so soft and girlish that it took Benny’s breath away knowing you were his. Even though he saw some incredible sunrises, sunsets and starry nights when he went riding, you were without a doubt the most beautiful sight he got to come home to.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he crossed the room, stooping to trace a hand across your face, brushing the tousled hair from your eyes. With his other hand, he looped his fingers through the spine of your novel, making sure to save your page mark as he placed it on the coffee table. His left hand moved beneath your knees and his right supported your back as he effortlessly lifted you into his embrace. That’s when he realized you were wearing one of his shirts, the white material clearly oversized on your small figure. He didn’t know a simple white t-shirt had the ability to be sexy, but clearly he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was because you had the talent to make just about anything look painfully arousing on you. And nothing at all. And to make matters even harder for Benny, he knew it wasn't your intention when you put on his shirt to look sexy, you probably weren’t even aware of the effects of your body in that damn oversized t-shirt and the way it clung to your chest as he lifted you, nor the way it molded around your hips. You were certainly not aware of the sudden twitch in his pants because of the way the garment just seemed to make you look even more of the little bunny that stole his heart.

“Benny?” your muffled, half asleep voice hit his ears like the sweetest melody as you snuggled into his chest.

“Stealin’ my clothes, Bunny?” he teased and you sunk further into his embrace, not quite awake enough to catch his playfulness. He carried you up to your bedroom, using his foot to kick the door shut behind him. He placed you gently on your side of the bed and almost laughed as you tugged him back down to you for a messy kiss.

“I like the way it smells like you,” you admitted as you rubbed your eyes, the action pulling on Benny’s heartstrings.

“You may have to keep it. Looks better on you,” he smiled as he stepped back to change into something more comfortable.

“Whatever you say, Cross.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your words slurring together. “I tried waitin’ up for you. Did ‘ya have a good time?”

“Go back to sleep, Bunny,” he coaxed gently, smiling as your blinks were growing longer by the second. That was always something you wanted to do: you liked to lay in bed and talk about your days if they happened to be spent apart. You encouraged him to talk more than he’s ever talked in his life. Sometimes he felt as though your chattiness was rubbing off on him, but you never interrupted nor discouraged him from expressing his thoughts. He loved you more for that. “There’s plenty of time to talk about it tomorrow.”

“M’kay, come lay with me?” you asked and Benny scoffed because was that even a request you needed to make? He was drawn to you like a moth to flame, he couldn’t resist having a hand on you while he slept. It was like some instinctual urge projecting him to keep you near, to keep you safe, even while he was floating in the realm of sleep.

He shook his head as you muttered a final incoherent sentence into the side of your pillow, eyes falling shut again. He crawled into bed behind you, slipping his hand around your waist and pulling you flush against his body as he pulled the blankets over the two of you. A soft, content sigh escaped you, and Benny looped his hand into yours, pulling it up to his lips in a soft kiss as he whispered “I love you, Bunny.”

-Tag List-

@imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @twisteduniverse5 @justsomewritingblog @nhlfs @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin

@wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms

@youngestxhearts . @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned

@hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @thedreamingfish99 @mrsalwayswrite

#drunk on love Benny :)#benny cross #benny x bunny #the bikeriders #austin butler #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #benny x reader #austin butler fandom #imagine #fluff #johnny davis #bikeriders #the bikeriders fanfiction #the bikeriders x reader

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thatdeadaquarius · 7 months ago

Note

Hello there, friend I'm here for fluff

OK, this has been on my mind for a while

But like

The reader is just becoming the biggest parent to the Benny's adventure team kids

And the wolfs

We are like a parent of like 27

Knitting and making food brushing razors hair(let's be for real, you would hear a crunch when you brush it)

I'm not gonna lie

Do these kids know what spices are?

Cuz when I think about it

Razor hasn't had shit so he's has the least tolerance for spice

He would probably cry if you feed him a pepper

Bennett has tried spicy food but does go well with it

And not completely sure if fischl has had a spicy food before

But what flavor does mondstadt add to their food??

These kids need the damn flavors

AHDHAKALL FERAL ANIMAL AQUARIUS- ANOTHER PLATONIC ASK AAHHHHGGGGDJJSFHSAK!!!!!

AND ITS YOU!! ITS- ITS- ONE OF THE WRITING RULERS OF SAGAU (FOR ME AT LEAST) <3 !!!!!!!!

You cooking in genshin all anime studio ghibli style looking like food from god (literally): ⬆️

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: Benny’s Adventure Team! (Bennett, Fischl, Razor), Diluc, mentions of other Mond characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

^^ The posts being referenced in ask, (OG Razor ask) (Benny + Razor) and a more direct sequel, a part 2? a part 4 atp?? of this post (Imposter/Not Dark AU + Razor + Diluc) ^^

OMFG

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP BITCHES

SINCE UR IN TEYVAT

YOU GONNA COOK LIKE TEYVAT

AS IN-

SHIT BE SUPER EASY TO COOK, AND MASS MAKE DEPENDING ON COMPLEXITY OF DISH

(So, like Zhongli's special Bamboo Shoot Soup is like getting made... once a year if you read the little desc. for that dish 💀)

AND THEYRE ALL LIKE-

ANIME GORGEOUS FOODS ✨️❤️‍🔥

OKAY SO

PROMO TIME-

U GUYS HAVE TO WATCH THE ANIME "CAMPFIRE COOKING IN ANOTHER WORLD"

Bc that's mostly where this inspo gonna come from to both be realistic cooking + best parts of video game cooking

A guy gets isekai’d and instead of hero powers he just gets the skill of "online grocery shopping" LMAO

and ofc he gets insta gifted whatever he orders and starts making dishes and adding spices and regular stuff you know. like soy sauce.

but the best part is the food in that world is like British medieval soup shit

like barely salted, no spices definitely, no sauces, its barren

so he ends up attracting all kinds of interest that want to eat his cooking ofc

And it gives buffs too!

dw i didnt spoil anything u don't learn in the first episode, but that's just to say that's exactly whats happening here

u DO have to manually collect more ingredients but its so worth it, also u can just buy in bulk or put a commission thru the adventurer guild

tbhhh now that i say that, that could be how u end up drawing in Benny’s Adventure Team even more, bc they just take all ur quests for collecting ingredients around Mond!!

(u have to actively sneak behind their back and whisper to Katheryne that you want to put in other food quests in other guilds tho, silly kids will absolutely go running around Liyue and crazy shit just to have an adventure and do smth for you + eat ur banger food lol)

omfg the first time u barbecue smth???

the wolves, Razor, and Andrius??? Go feral.

Fischl and Benny who were already on their way to u guys to hang out again start booking it thru the woods, dodging hilichurl camps (thatve since settled down and been v peaceful to the wolves + anyone in the woods of Wolvendom after u started living there)

they knowww ur cookin smth fucking amazing

(and u even have some hilichurls and mitachurl that wander close to Andrius’ edge of the woods to shyly beg for scraps,, u give them a portion)

Razor was actually lookin at u like u hung the stars just for him when u gave him a homemade barbecue sauce to put on his food

(u acc may have done that to Teyvatians according to Andrius + the stories u overheard from Springvale…)

ok but the amount of begging u get for desserts like-

No, Razor u cannot have chocolate cake/cupcakes after every meal, u need to take care of ur teeth

(u use ur collection of mora-monster-donations for comms for more ingredients and living supplies like fabric + furniture, u cant afford dental on top of that for ur boy)

Fischl dutifully declares you the “best chef in the kingdom” and writes down all ur recipes (u have them auto-stored in ur settings obv but it cant hurt to have a physical copy, and they look so happy doing it, u don't have the heart to tell them its not necessary-)

Benny insists on both giving u extra ingredients when he takes ur commissions, and giving u handmade trinkets or weapons for the meals!!

No!! He will not take “im good” for an answer!! ur sharing ur home-cave with him, taking care of his best friend Razor, and now feeding him food better than Liuli Pavilion!!! There’s no way he can just take all that and give nothing back!!!!

and theyre not the only ones getting some food tbh

when the knights begin patroling near Wolvendom and slowly all of Mondstadt to search for their “All God”, u break up the beginnings of a fight between 2 confused knights and the now peaceful hilichurl camp at the edge of Wolvendom

U offer some snacks u were going to give Benny’s Adventure Team when they got back (u made little triangle sandwiches, rice balls, etc. finger foods, and u made plenty extra bc u kno their teenage appetites lol)

the knights and hilichurls nearly cried with appreciation, which made for a hilarious sight when the teens actually showed up lmao

ur wearing ur cloak, bc u dont wanna take on that whole “creator of worlds�� title just yet, and the kids helped verify u werent anyone suspicious (Benny + Fischl keep ur godly secret, theyre the best like that 🥰)

the knights just swing by for snacks occasionally (they also either pay u in trade or with mora, theyre not bullies)

another person who gets flavored food privileges is the lazy librarian witch herself

u also sometimes pick Razor up from Lisa’s tutoring and bring “the best tea and tea snacks in the world” along with to share with Lisa and him

(she is also fully aware after awhile of meeting u of what u are, and fully believes this is why the food must be enchanted to be so good, but u dont want to be treated super reverently she can tell, so she keeps ur secret too and is just extra flirty when u come by lol)

(Razor refuses to let his pare- Lupical move out of ur cozy cave to the library, so he sometimes hauls u away when Lisa flirts too much LMAO)

…and the moment you've been waiting for.

Yes, Diluc got to try ur food that night he was searching Wolvendom for signs of the god of Teyvat

tbh Diluc was half-convinced that shit was a fever dream.

a bunch of sleepy wolves, a coffee table in the stone colosseum, a giant spirit wolf licking a big plate clean, the wolf-kid glaring at him, and you.

you with gold eyes, staring right thru his soul, like you already know everything there is to know about him, (like the way Kaeya looked at him that night),

like he doesnt even have to introduce himself

and he doesnt, u just lightly smack Razor’s hands until he gets rid of his claymore w/a pout, since Diluc had long since dropped his,

and grab a plate, piling on what leftovers u could, and turn back around from the coffee table to smile at him, patting the cushion-seat beside u for him to join

The giant glowing wolf licks his lips and watches him, the wolf-kid’s creepily watches him, and you, with eyes gold in teh light of a simmering bonfire just past the table, watch him

he just sits down and begins to eat.

its the best food he’s ever had, its his dad’s favorite dish, but not realistically, but the way memory embellishes a dish so much it can never be tasted again, except its right here. in front of him. u pour some wolfhook juice for him, and offer him a napkin to wipe his mouth and eyes

Diluc visits often after that, obviously.

u give him snacks too, and when he lets the staff try some, Adeline will not stop harassing him abt gettin ur recipes/ingredeints so u get him to pay Fischl to get a copy of their recipe book :)

including blank pages for future entries, and Fischl is literally glowing with happiness, would not stop monologuing abt ur food for weeks (send help Oz wants some peace and quiet sometimes)

Oh Diluc absolutely told the Favonius knights he found you. But he’s not saying where LMAO

Jean is actually begging him, Diluc ik u hate the knights but this is an international investigation-

this is the closest Diluc has ever gotten to getting under Venti’s skin.

when he told him this at Angel’s while bartending, he just casually ofc said this, just his smug little smirk, and the anemo god cracked a glass and everything- esp when he said he tried ur cooking??

he's gotta start looking over his shoulder in the city bc not only is Venti stalking him, the entirety of Mondstadt’s citizens are glaring at him in envy everywhere he goes LMAOO

(Venti now has a bar glass or too on his tab to pay off as well)

mans is literally paying u in weapon/artifact materials/mora to make him lunch one day and Venti nearly lunges over the counter

(Diluc purposefully ate it in front of him 💀)

ur food is the ultimate, “u could make a religion out of this!” /ref

like Diluc fully gives u offerings of ingredients he can pay for shipping from other countries + along with regular materials after grinding in domains

does the rest of Mondstadt + the world find out where u are?

only if Diluc lets them tbh. LMFAO

☆

bk trashfire my beloved <3 love ur ideas and stuff, goes without even saying im so sorry i took actually forever to respond :’(

hope u have a great weekend and i did this little side story justice for you

Safe Travels BK Trashfire,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡my beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit / @chinuneko / @silvers-tongue

@kiyomi-uchiha777

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juneberrie · 1 year ago

Text

ೃ⁀➷ dating benny weir

let me just say this before anything else: HE IS WHIPPED FOR U

he thinks ur the greatest thing since video games

constantly looking at you

sometimes people call him out on it and then he's like "oh no!! not in a creepy way!! im her boyfriend!!" and then he gets all giddy because he's like "i'm her boyfriend!!!!"

he likes it when u sit on his lap <3 not in a dirty way ofc he just likes being able to wrap his arms around u & look up at u <3

ur camera roll is mostly him. like stupid pictures of him

he rarely uses instagram other than liking ur posts, commenting on ur posts, and posting you <3 he's only ever posted five pictures and theyre of you. and one of ethan looking really stupid asleep

has that kind of "only *I* can bully my partner"

yeahhhh he makes fun of you

but its all light hearted

if you get hurt by one of his comments please for the love of god tell him. he would hate to know that you've been hurt by one of his jokes and that your bottling it up

hes kind of a bad listener when you vent to him but he's really good at cuddles and hugs <3

calls you things like babe, angel, sweetheart, baby

half of the nicknames are said jokingly ("did you miss me, sweetheart?" kinda vibes) but theres always a touch of sincereness <3

uses his magic sparingly around you?? actually??

like he sometimes does little spells. like pulling a bouquet of flowers out of his pocket, filling you up a glass of water, simple things like that.

but never big things. and he never, EVER, tries new spells on you or around you because he doesnt ever wanna risk you getting hurt

he loooooves youuuuuuuuuuu :(

#magic man (liz's version)#liz’s writing ♡#benny weir x fem!reader #benny weir x reader #benny mbav #benny weir #mbav x reader #mbav #mbav fanfic #my babysitters a vampire x reader #my babysitter's a vampire

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year ago

Text

Feelings

Media The Queens Gambit

Character Benny Watts

Couple Benny X Reader

Rating Sweet + SMut

Requested:

Hey fiction witch, if u can see this I have a request, in the show Beth leaves New York and goes back to her house and when Beth and Benny r on the phone Benny gets upset and tells Beth to not call him, after that happens can u plz make y/n find out that Beth hurt Benny and y/n being her sweet and empathetic self, goes to comfort Benny in his house and yk wtv happens next 🤭 if u can make that story asap that would be amazing thank u 🙏

I shifted my hips from side to side humming along with the tune coming from my record player speaker, My hands in the hot water washing up the dishes and pots from dinner. I jumped as I heard my phone begin its blaring. So I left the last pot to soak trying off my hands on my apron as I scampered my shoes across the floor of my little townhouse I quickly turned down the volume on my record player as I passed the shelf, I lost my footing a little on the rug's stupid curled corner and went tumbling onto my sofa on my back, luckily just beside my phone table so I picked up the red rotary phone from the table bringing it to my ear.

"Y/l/n Residence." I smiled

"Hi y/n" Beth smiled

"Ohh, My my to what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Harmon?"

"Oh you know, nothing unusual. How's queens?"

"Boring. But finally unpacked my last few boxes so shaping up nicely. How's kentuky?"

"Much the same" she smiled "So, I had a question."

"ahh there is the point of your call, of course, ask away"

"You've been to Moscow correct?"

"Yes, I have. I assume there is a follow-up question."

"Yeah, I'm doing a bit of packing. I know everyone says Moscow is cold but... exactly how cold?"

"When they say cold they mean cold beth. It's freezing in Moscow. The snow came up to my knees. I was so cold I ripped stuffing out of the hotel pillow to shove in my bra because I was convinced my nipples would freeze off. and that's coming from a New York girl" I laughed "Pack for ice. Pack for snow. Pack for seeing your breath inside buildings."

"Really?"

"If you're too hot you can always take layers off," I explained

"Fair enough,"

"That all?"

"I had something else to ask too"

"Sure, fire away."

"Did you... Like to fuck Benny?"

"That's a bold question for six pm"

"But did you, when you two were... together?"

I laughed "My darling Elizabeth. Me and Benny never have been... together. Not officially anyway."

"But when you did. Did you like to?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"You can say every time you've had sex you liked it? sometimes stuff's just shit"

"But other than those times"

"I did. Course I did. Benny... is a complicated man"

"How so?"

"Because he's Benny" I laugh "He's weird, he thinks fifteen steps ahead at any one moment, he's passionate and dedicated with an ego big enough to fly himself to Moscow and back, but he's also... you know a man. so he's blunt and simple, and can't see a hint five inches in front of his face." I explained, "Why?"

"I think. it might be over."

"Over? Did it ever begin?"

"I mean... kinda. sort of. It's complicated."

"Beth. What happened?"

"So you know how Benny's been bugging me to come to New York"

"Yes. Because he misses you. That's his way of saying that."

"Yeah he even told me"

"He told you he missed you?"

"Yes"

"And you did what?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing!"

"Yeah I mean we called a little more but not much else. and I kinda... pissed him off"

"What did you do?"

"I gave the church the money back. I tried to ask him for money. if he wants to come he can help me pay for it right? he flipped out and told me not to call him again. That was... two days ago and he won't answer the phone. Guess I'm just kinda..."

"You're serious?" I sighed

"Yeah."

"Okay... I have not got time to deal with you" I sighed sitting up normally "All I'm gonna say is you've fucked up Beth. And I am going to clean this up, not because I want to help you. But because I care too much about Benny. I will call you later and we will have a chat" I told her before hanging up the phone

"Fuck..." I sighed "Harmon, you do make my life difficult" I grabbed the phone again and dialled the number for the Brooklyn basement listening to it ring but no answer, I tried again but still no answer, I gave it one more try but still no answer.

I gave up setting the phone back on the receiver and I got to my feet untieing my apron throwing it on the kitchen table grabbing my handbag making sure to grab my spare key. changing my shoes and slipping on my gloves before rushing out locking up my front door as I scampered down the steps of the stoop I unlocked the door on my little red mini threw my bag on the passenger seat quickly started the car up and scampered through the New York streets using all the little cut thoughts I knew to travel the six miles from my townhouse in queens to the basement in Brooklyn. I pulled my mini up behind the little blue Beatle parked and grabbed my bag climbing out of the car and heading down the little foul-smelling stairwells until I finally reached the metal door giving it a firm few taps. No answer came. but I could hear noises from within. I knocked much louder but still no answer came.

I rolled my eyes grabbed the spare key from my handbag forced it into the lock and opened the door shutting it behind me immediately I could tell things weren't good.

This apartment was dark, gloomy and damp as usual, bottles littered his table enough you could use them as pieces in a chess game, and things haphazardly moved around the apartment. And Benny amongst it all. Barefoot. Black jeans tight to his body, his belt gone, his black turtleneck on with his sleeves rolled up, frustration across his face, a beer in hand that he finished and there across his apartment smashing it on the wall.

“Benny?”

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced up at me “Hey y/n.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine” he snapped grabbing a cigarette from his table setting it in his mouth and lighting it up with his old Zippo

“Benny.” I glared

“I'm fine.” He snapped

“Beth called me.”

“Did she now? You come down to tell me I'm an asshole”

“I don't make judgements till I hear both sides” I answered “So, tell me what happened.”

“So it fucking -”

“Calmly.”

“It's over. I'm done with her. I have put up with so much shit from her. She treats me like a doormat, and only calls me when she needs something. Well she can go fuck herself” he says pacing around his apartment

“Okay, what exactly happened?”

“She gave the money back. Asked me to pay for us. She ignored everything I told her. All because she didn't want to sign some worthless bit of paper. Now I can't go to Moscow with her. Fine, she clearly didn't want me with her anyway.”

“Alright, and you told her?”

“I told her not to call me again. She wants to do this on her own fine. She can. She won't hear a word from me, but she can fuck off if she wants anything.”

“You've been ignoring calls?”

“I didn't exactly feel like talking right now”

“Alright, go get changed and I'll make you some tea”

“I don't -”

“Benny. Don't make me bonk you with a spoon”

“Fine I will get changed” he sighed going to his room “and make coffee.”

“No tea. Coffee will keep you up and you do not need more energy right now” I explained going and making some nice tea one for me and one for Benny taking and sitting them both on the small table in the centre of the living space, as well as a glass of water I took a small dustpan and brush from the cabinet and cleaned up the broken glass from the bottle as well as any other little mess that littered the apartment. I went to the small record player beside the chair and for a moment flipped through his small collection grabbing a nice album of some gentle swing music adding it to the player letting it spin and turning it down to almost nothing, and I took a seat on the pile of pillows he used as a sofa. Soon enough he returned with a fresh set of clothes, some new jeans, a black T-shirt and his green button-down

“There you feel a little better now?”

“It is nice to have some fresh clothes on” he grunted back

“Come on” I offered patting the pillow beside me

“I'm not in the mood y/n”

“Benny. Come here.”

He rolled his eyes but came and sat beside me still as angry and frustrated as before leaning his head against the exposed bricks

“Good, now when did you last drink something?”

“I'm not thirsty”

“Did I ask that?”

“No”

“When did you last drink something? You're only going to give yourself a headache” I told him, offering him the water but he turned away “Hydrate. Or I will hit you with a spoon”

He took the glass and had a sizable sip

“Thank you, now come here and talk it out”

“Y/n I know you mean well but I’m-”

“I will get the spoon in a minute.” I warn “Come” I demanded patting my thigh

He rolled his eyes but leant over so I wrapped my arms around him letting him lay his head in my lap “I don't see how this is going to help”

“You need to acknowledge and work through your feelings”

“I don't have feelings. I'm a man.”

“Ohh no you don't have feelings. That's why you've been spending your days in a dark basement drinking like a fish and frustrated smoking. No feelings at all” I smiled gently petting his soft fluffy hair

“I don't need to work through my feelings.”

“Yes, you do. Otherwise, you're just going to be angry forever. And god knows I can't deal with that” I laughed

“Fine” he sighed

“Take a moment just to clear the brain” I smiled playing with his hair in all the usual spots he liked me too

“My brain doesn’t clear.”

“Then hyperfocus. On the ticking of the clock, the nice gentle music, clear the mind of all other things and just exist for a moment”

We sat for a few moments just enjoying the quiet of his basement, the gentle hum of the music and the rhythm of our breaths

“Okay” He nods sounding far calmer than before

“That help?”

“A little”

“Okay do a Big breath in.”

“Why do I-”

“Benny” I warned so he did as I asked “Big breath in. And back out. Another one in… and another out. Okay? Feel a little better?” I smiled walking him through it a few times

“A bit”

“Are you calmer?”

“Somewhat”

“So, tell me what happened”

“You going to tell me when I’m wrong?”

“No. I'm not going to say anything you just explain and I will listen.”

“I try asking her for months to come up to New York, actually spend some time together, no she's busy she needs to do this, she needs to do that, she ghosts me for six months, okay I try asking to go to Paris with her support her with the tournament, no she's going on her own, she can't afford to take me too, so fine she goes on her own only when she's fucked herself up so bad she looses her tournament and has headlines everywhere she was drunk as a sailor then! I got a call. I try to be supportive and offer to pick her up from the airport. No, she wants to be alone. I try to talk her through everything and offer her a safe space, so we can be together and work stuff out, no she wants to be alone. She wants to drink. Fine, I try! I try and say she can drink so long as she came here no she wants to go and get drunk. She goes home to Kentucky and ghosts me again. She calls me finally because she wants my advice and again I try to get her to come here, I try and be nice hell I told her I fucking missed her nope she wants to stay on her own meaning she wants to fucking drink. And again I'm ghosted. She completely ignores what I tell her to do. She gives the church their money and calls me up like I'm the problem! Like I haven't spent the last year waiting for your phone calls like some abandoned puppy! Says she's paying her own way to Moscow and can't afford to take me with her, if I wanna come I need to pay, when she knows full well I don't have two thousand dollars laying around to jet off to Moscow. Accused me of gambling it all away. So fuck it. Fuck her. She wants to go and her drunk and fuck her life up that's her decision she's not taking me down with her. I'm not staying as her fucking doormat fuck to treat her how she wants. If she'd rather get drunk than be with me fine I hope she and her bottle are happy”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Like shit.”

“Benny, feelings are not shit. use your words. Not just your swears.”

“Like… why should I bother you know? Like I'm trying so so much and you're giving absolutely nothing back. And that makes me feel like I'm the asshole for wanting anything”

“You're not an asshole for wanting acknowledgement Benny. You've done a lot for Beth and it's not easy for you to be emotionally numerable”

“Exactly! It's like you bare your fucking soul to someone and their response is okay cool. What else? Like I don't know what more you want from me. Am I being a dick? Asking for too much or something?”

“I don't think so, I do think you also need to respect Beth is also not an emotional person. The two of you aren't going to have a great emotional conversation because neither of you are good emotional communicators and that's fine some people aren't, but it would seem you are putting a lot of effort in, now Beth may not see it as a lot of effort in her mind and may not be seeing how much effort that Is for you and not appreciate it as much or it could be that she just expects more. and if you can't give her that then you can't there's nothing wrong with that Benny”

“Do you think I'm an emotionally distant person?”

“You can be. You're… very practical Benny. You're emotional to the extent of practically, when emotions aren't useful you don't bother to express them. But I do think you not in the wrong here you've made a lot of moves to be more outwardly expressive and it was clear you were upset long before this” I explained “I think, and of course, you don't need to take my advice. But I think you and Beth need time apart I think you both need to not see one another, not speak to one another, for a couple of weeks I think you both need to separately decide the kind of relationship you want together. If you want to have the kind of relationship where you call every other day and talk or if you want a relationship where you talk every six months how much emotional investment you each have needs to be equal and it clearly isn't so I think spend time apart to think and when she gets back from Moscow you two need to talk and see where you go from here.”

“... Your right.” He sighed sitting up “Where did you learn all this stuff anyway?” He asks having some tea

“Therapy. You know that thing I keep telling you to go to”

“I don't need therapy”

“Everyone needs therapy, Benny.”

“I don’t”

“Yes, you do.” I told him “You have a lot of untapped emotional issues rattling around in that big head of yours” I told him having some tea “And I’m boarder line convinced you have… some type of-”

“No I don’t” he snapped

“Benny you hyperfocus on chess, don’t understand your own emotions, freak out when someone tries to touch your skin, and use your rings like fidget toys… and you don’t think there might be a possibility you could have some form of -”

“No.”

“Fine, fine. I’m not going to argue with you” I giggled “You should go to therapy though Benny.”

“Ohh what because I have ‘emotional trauma’?”

“Yes. you do.” I told him “Even if it's just having someone to talk to, to rant about your problems”

“That's why I have you”

“I'm not your therapist Benny”

“Sorry”

“It's fine” I smiled pressing a kiss to the top of his head “You really liked her didn't you?”

“I did. I kinda thought we were the same. Maybe we're too much alike”

“Do you think maybe… you're seeing the bad things in Beth that you see in yourself?”

“Kinda. I think it's … made me realize how bad it is to be on that side of it. To be the one waiting by the phone on the promise of a call that never comes. I think I'm .. trying though. I can see how bad it is and in trying to fix it but just feels like bailing a bucket out a lake”

“Well, baby steps. Just the fact you see it and are making steps is still better. You're never going to bail the lake if you don't start with a bucket”

“I guess so. It makes me wonder… how she sees me. I know officially we didn't label anything but, I kinda think she just saw me as a chessboard that could make her cum”

“What did you want her to be?”

“....I don't know. Guess I wanted someone to call. Someone to spend time with. Someone who wants to talk to me. Listens to me. Makes me feel like what I say makes a difference. Like I Matter to them. Someone who gets excited about spending time with me, who wants to be with me not because we might play chess or we might have sex but just because we like being together”

“You ever tell her that?”

“No.”

“Then … you can't expect her to give you that Benny. She's not a mind reader. She doesn't know that's what you want same as you don't know what she wants. You two are both people not great at emotions be the best course is to straight forward sit her down and say that's what you want and if that's not what she wants you can either try to find a middle ground or that can be it”

“Your right. But I don't want to see her. Or talk to her. I don't completely want to think about her but there's no getting out of that” he explained lighting another cigarette “But I'm done. Unless she's willing to try I don't want anything more than to be her friend”

“If that's what you want. That's what you want” I smiled taking the cigarette from him putting it out in the table’s ashtray “You’re not smoking because you want it you smoking because your frustrated.” I laughed

“Your therapist tell you that too?”

“No. I just know you, Benny. Besides you’ve been doing really good. Don’t destroy all your progress just because you’re mad” I told him

“You rather I drink?”

“I’d rather you have healthy coping mechanisms but you know… baby steps.” I smiled “You feel a bit better? Got all that off your chest?”

“Yeah. Thanks y/n.”

“Your welcome” I smirked having some tea “It's kinda funny”

“What is?”

“That's exactly what I wanted. Back when we …”

“Really?” He asks

“Yeah. I'd have killed for you to want to spend time with me without it seeming like I was dragging you away from something you wanted to do more”

“.... Fuck. I was a dick.”

“You kinda were.” I laughed “But we wanted different things that's okay”

“I feel like shit. Maybe things would be different if I figured out this is what I wanted”

“Maybe” I shrug “But you didn’t want that then that’s fine you can change your mind as life changes, that wasn’t the sort of thing you wanted then”

“You’re a very emotional person. I think I struggled with that”

“I can be… overly emotional. In working on it. Trying not to overthink everything so much.” I said “How do you think it felt for me sitting here miles deep in overthinking as to why you weren’t talking to me, that you were mad, that I did something wrong, all the while you just sat there playing chess completely unaware I was even upset being quiet because… you like to sit quietly.”

“I saw you were upset… when it was too late. By the time I picked up on it you crying so far down an emotional rabbit hole even if I did know How to deal with it, it was kinda too late”

“And yes that is on you for not noticing my emotions but also on me for not being clearer with them, literally could have fixed all my overthinking with, Benny are you mad at me? But no I wanted to sit there pouting getting more and more anxious waiting for you to figure out that I was worried.”

“I always felt like a dick for asking you what was wrong,”

“Because I wanted you to pick up on it. I didn’t want to tell you I just wanted you to pick up and fix it. And that's on me. That was my issue and I’m getting better. Can’t expect people to know everything. But you're getting better too, learning when people are upset being more outwardly emotional if you need a little coaxing.”

“Or threatening”

“Everyone is different Benny. The sooner you realize that the easier life is. Everyone you speak to, and everyone you see is completely different we all think differently, behave differently, and have different responses to things, and no one can read minds. We all need to give each other a little more slack because we don't know what's going on in their head and they'll never know what's happening in ours. Some people can read emotions across your face like a book, some people need to be told or they'll never learn. I was an emotionally overthinking young woman craving emotional intimacy without having to ask for it. While being in a non-official relationship with a man who can't read emotions, has a hard time expressing his feelings and craves reassurance. On top of the very basic one, what's to fuck one wants to love problem. You surprised it went south?”

“I crave reassurance?”

“Benny. You're a chess player who dresses like a goth pirate.”

“Point taken”

“It's fine people grow and change neither of us are the people we were then”

“That's true” he nods ��Can I get the number for your therapist?”

“Why?”

“He sounds good. The fact you rattled all that off is pretty impressive”

“Find your own therapist. Don't want conflicts of interest”

For a moment he was puzzled “You talk about me in therapy?”

“Yeah”

“God was I that much of a cunt?”

“No. You’re my friend. Our lives are very intertwined is all” I laughed leaning on his shoulder

“that’s fair” he laughed “... Do you think I ask for too much? With Beth?”

“I think… you ask for more than she's comfortable with. Let's face it Benny your fighting against an addiction. You might have an ego and you might love chess but you're not physically addicted to it”

“I just feel like in trying so hard, pushing myself so far beyond what I'd normally be comfortable with the least she can do is try”

“if that's how you feel. Then I think she should respond to that”

“I'm not a dick?”

“I don't think so” I smiled

“Thanks y/n. I'm really thankful you came over”

“Well I can't just leave you someone has to try and get you through these gross… feelings you're not used to”

“Can you stay?”

“What?”

“Can you stay? I don't think I wanna be on my own tonight”

“Of course Benny”

We stayed up a little long chatting about things but soon it came time for bed he put up the air bed for himself and I took his bed even if I argued but he let me have it.

I changed borrowing one of his shirts for the night getting cosy in the warm bed.

The lights out the only sound the occasional sound of the New York cars above the basement.

I was about to drift off when I perked up hearing the creek of the door and soon enough the covers moved and Benny crawled in with me

“Hi”

“Did you want your own bed back?”

“No, I just… I don't wanna be alone right now” he says slowly wrapping his arms around me and pulling me tight to his body my hips to his my back to his chest squeezing me almost like I was his teddy bear

“Okay Benny, you don't need to worry I'll be right here,” I reassured letting him squeeze me tightly to his body, he held me tight pressing his lips to my shoulder

“Can I get my anger out?” He asked

“Alright” I nodded

He moved and pushed me down on my back “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” I nodded

He nodded and leant down to nibble and kiss my neck, before he pulled down his boxers and tugged off my panties, he started off gently slipping himself inside me he held my hips firmly digging his nails into my skin as he aggressively thrusted, often bitting his lips and gritting his teeth letting out his frustration and anger though the movement of his hips. He began to slow so I smiled and held his hips gently turning us so he laid on his back and I sat on top of him gently moving my hips slowly “Reveling in your anger is not going to make you feel better” I smiled stroking his stomach as I moved

“I know. I just wanted to get the anger out” he sighed moving his hips with me

“Wouldn’t this be nicer?”

“It is much nicer.” he smiled “Nice and calming” He cooed sitting up a little and wrapping his arms around me to pull me into his chest for an intense kiss I smiled into the kiss as I moved my hips faster trying to match his own speed getting more and more intense the longer it went on I knew I was close starting to nibble on his neck as I began to slow getting close to my edge he noticed and smirked making sure to work as hard as he could letting out the last of his frustration until I reached my peak biting his neck as I did which in turn got him to his own edge burying himself deep inside me and riding it out before he collapsed against the bed and I basically fell off onto the other side

“Feel better now Benny?”

“Yeah” he nods between gasps “That is way better than therapy”

“They're not mutually exclusive Benny.”

“I still think this is better”

“You can’t just ignore your feelings and deal with your frustrations through sex” I told him

He smirked and turned over to spoon me “Did it work?”

“...yes but?”

“Did it work?”

“Yes.”

“Then I'm gonna do it” he shrugs

“Alright Benny, if that’s how you wanna deal with your feelings” I laughed “Come on, let's get some sleep”

“Alright, Night”

“Night” I smiled giving him a little kiss before we cuddled up and drifted off to sleep.

I yawned as I woke up I gently pushed Benny’s arms off me climbed out the bed and headed across the apartment, I went to the kitchen and began to make coffee humming to myself a little.

“Morning,” Benny spoke up from the bedroom door

“Morning, How are you feeling today?”

“Better. Much better” he smiled coming and wrapping his arms around me giving my neck some kisses “You always make me feel better”

“I do?”

“You do. I’m sorry”

“For what?”

“For being a dick, when we…” he began “I realize it and I’m sorry”

“That's very sweet. Apology accepted. I’m sorry for how I was too”

“Apology accepted” he smiled

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the shit from Beth”

“It’s fine. I know how to deal with it”

“Oh?”

“She can find another doormat. She wants to drink and wants to go on her own she can. I don’t want that. We can be friends if she wants but nothing more than that. I don’t feel like I want anything more”

“Okay. I’m proud of you, for expressing your feelings” I smiled

“Did you wanna stay for a while? Spend some time together?”

“Is that also part of you dealing with this?” I giggled turning to face him

“Kinda. But Now I know what you wanted. And I want that too. Maybe now we're a little older we’ll be better, more communicative, better with our feelings. So? Did you wanna try again?”

“On one condition.”

“Oh?”

“Go to therapy, Benny.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“How much therapy?”

“How about one session, one date.”

“Three dates one session”

“Two.” “Deal” he smiled pulling me into a sweet kiss “Will you help me find one?”

“Yes, I will.” I giggled “Come on we’ll have coffee and a cuddle”

“Sounds perfect”

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