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coweye · 3 months

Text

Commitment Issues - rewrite (part 1/2)

Pairing: Benny Miller x Reader

Words: 33k

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

Warning: Smut, Unprotected Sex, Choking, Angst, Fuck Boy Benny.

AN: Hey Ya'll - So I feel my writing has come a long way since I started this fic all those years ago. So I took the liberty of compiling all 10 parts into 2 handy dandy easy to find parts.

If you want just the ending chapter or prefer the old fic, I respect that and will post and include a link to the masterpost here✨

I love you all so much and thank you for your support over the years.💖

Lets end this bitch out.

“Fuck- you’re tight… baby, how are you always so fucking tight?” Benny Miller croons into your neck leaning over your half clothed body as his large calloused hands eat at the flesh of your hips giving him leverage to thrust himself even deeper inside of you.

Your eyes roll back into your head on his next stroke, somewhere in the back of your mind you hear the clang of his head hitting the metal roof of the pickup truck as he repositions himself to get a better hold on your hips but he doesn’t seem to care as he instantly resumes losing himself in your body. Skin slapping against skin and a cocktail of your groans is all that can be heard as you both chase your pleasure.

Benny and yourself had been engaging in a mutually beneficial relationship for around two years now. The two of you would make late night calls, summoning the other to your bedroom, living room or truck, apparently.

Before you knew it you had irritatingly started yearning for the man for more than the relief he provided; things like stupid fucking memes he sent you at all hours of the day or his irritating commentary that supplemented movie nights (they almost always turned into sex).

However, Benny was always resolute in his one and only rule of sleeping over. Sleep overs were off the table, unequivocally and indiscriminately banned.

Never once had he stayed in your bed, basking in post coital bliss with your body wrapped around his own as the two of you fell into a restful slumber.

For all intents and purposes your two relationships were separate entities; You were friends and then you were lovers.

Though it felt sometimes that Benny only really saw you as the former - despite the amount of times he had painted your inner walls with his seed.

Your hands gripped at the headrest in front of you as you pushed back against him, managing to take him even deeper inside of you until it felt like he was going to hit the opening of your womb. Benny pulled your t-shirt clad spine back to his chest, his hot tongue began trailing along your ear, down to your neck as he whispered filthy praise to you and ‘your tight little pussy’.

Your eyes rolled back as his hand wrapped around your throat and his other palm left its iron grip on your hips to find your clit, he rubbed slow lazy circles, causing a steady pressure to build inside of you.

“Come for me, baby.”

“Fuck-Ungh.” Your pleasure explodes, shutting down any and all brain function, killing your ability to worry about boundaries.

Your head locks backwards into his chest, as his hold on your throat keeps you upright against him as his thick cock scrapes against your walls in a now thundering pace as he chases his own release inside of you.

Once, twice, three times before he grunts and his hands abandon their individual tasks to hold your hips and push deep inside of you as he comes. His head is buried in your shoulder blade as yours finds the plush fabric of the backseat. Bare ass in the air with his softening cock inside you on the backseat of his pick-up truck nearly passed out from exertion is surprisingly not the least dignified way the two of you had ever finished.

Barely a moment has passed before the soldier is pulling his shirt over his head and mopping his seed from your thighs.

Ever the gentleman as he then wipes his own release from the fabric of the back seat. You try to push away the snide observation that he puts more effort to clean his upholstery than your body as you begin to redress.

This hadn’t been apart of your grand plan for the evening, when you’d called him and asked him to come over. Tonight was the night. It was either the day you and Benjamin Miller were going to go steady - or the last time you’d grant him the privilege of doing those wonderful things to your body.

Do or die, so to speak.

Finally he pulled up in front of your apartment building.

“You wanna come up?”

“Can’t sorry, Darlin’- told Will I’d come over to watch the game.” The lack of an invite was obvious to even your rose tinted glasses.

“Ah, don’t worry - I mean this isn’t how I wanted to do this… but I guess…” You trailed off, you were hesitant because you were pretty sure you knew how this conversation was about to go and the second those words left your mouth, they couldn’t be unsaid.

“Y/N?” Ben’s head tilted as he brushed his hand against your jean clad thigh.

“Look - I can’t - It’s just… This isn’t enough for me anymore Ben.” You finally gasp out frustrated. The car is silent for a moment as you stare at your hands currently gripped anxiously in your lap, after a moment you glance up and Benny is looking ahead, eyes boring into the windshield.

He says nothing, the hand that was on your thigh has slid to the seat, the warmth of it is still there but he somehow feels a million miles away.

“I lo-like the time we spend together doing this, but this has been going on since we were deployed. We’re home now and honestly, I need more; I want try and -”

“Y/N. You know I’m not looking for anything serious like that right now. I can’t… give you that at the moment.” His voice is stretched and sounds almost painful.

For a moment you almost break, a lifetime spent trying to ease pain as a medic had made you soft, but this was something you could no longer compromise on.

Benjamin Miller had been somewhat of a problem for you longer than you cared to admit and this was the make or break.

The nut up or shut up.

Colloquialisms aside you needed closure, if Ben was going to go back to just being your friend then so be it, but you couldn’t waste another moment in his shadow.

“I’m not asking for serious Ben, but I just need a little more, I can’t wait around forever.”

“I’m not asking you to.” You couldn’t help the swing of your head at his words, Benny wasn’t even fighting you on this, his face was blank as he stared you down.

This was the worst version of the Benny’s you’d faced over the course of your friendship, the bull headed one - though it had never been directed at you before - He had convinced himself of what he needed to do and was an image of icy resolve; deaf to everything around him and blind to reason.

“Ben…”

“I can’t give you what you need, but I’ll always be your friend, Y/N.” You blanch, in all your fantasies it had never gone this way, the worst of them had all included some kind of fight.

An argument would be preferable to this, this felt like you’d meant nothing to him.

Perhaps that was true.

As you attempt to pull yourself together and pick up the pieces of your ego, you bite at your top lip to stop any shameful tears from falling.

“Friends.” You nod and pull at the door before the words fall out of your lips, you can’t bring yourself to look at him as you exit the vehicle. “Just give me a couple of days, okay?”

A few days morphed into a full week before you could even think of responding to the text messages from the guys and that was only because Catfish threatened to turn up at your place if you didn’t.

In order to deter, or in the very least, delay him you’d spouted some fictitious bullshit about a break up, you’d received a few awkward words of consolation from your brother in arms - promising you your continued privacy and a shoulder to cry on should you need it.

William however, made no such promise and your period of convalescence came to a swift end on the eleventh day when Ironhead turned up at your front door.

Admittedly it was poor timing on your part as ‘All Too Well’ was blasting from your speakers and you were in pajamas at around 5pm.

The hammering on the door had interrupted your session of self reflection as you were sprawled on the couch.

You could only imagine the figure he was presented with when you angrily whipped open the door, ready to give your neighbor a piece of your mind - three day old sushi pajamas, a glass of rosé in your clutches and severely unwashed hair.

♫ Well, maybe we got lost in translation, Maybe I asked for too much, But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'Til you tore it all up♫

The man who had for all intents and purposes been a brother to you for as long as you could remember - your secret coital acts with his own brother were not a factor in the bond you shared - stood on your doorstep with an unimpressed edge to his jaw.

“Turn this depressing crap off.” He huffed whilst pushing past you to turn the knob on the speaker to zero himself. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“Didn’t Francisco tell you? I got dumped.” You sigh dramatically and fall back onto the sofa after downing your glass of wine.

Will takes a seat in the arm chair opposite, his keen eyes surveying every detail of your disarray. You’d think he was checking you out if he wasn’t so delightfully Ironhead - or if you’d at least showered in the past three days.

“Over a guy? You? Come on Y/N, Buck up. You’re made of stronger stuff than this.” You can’t help the glare you send his way as your eyes rove his face finding the similar features to the man who had crushed your heart, you have no control over the ugly bile of resentment that rose.

“I just needed a bit of self care. A few days to sort myself out.” You know the second the words leave your mouth you’ve played your cards wrong, that would’ve scared Frankie or Santi off but Will, no, William Miller was like a dog with a bone. It was far better to rip the band-aid off and find out exactly what it was he wanted.

The raised single eyebrow as he picked up one of your old discarded wine bottles from the floor by his feet tells you exactly what he thinks of that statement. He sets it on the side table before he continues. “We’re all meeting down at Flanagan’s. Come on down with the guys, it’ll be good for you.”

“You’re saying that like I’ve got a choice… Why can’t you just let me sleep.” You whine burying your face in your dressing gown, exaggerating the very real exhaustion you felt in your bones.

“Oh yeah, there’s no choice here.”

“Dick.”

He nods your way and swipes the remote control from your coffee table. Switching the television on and flicking through until he lands on some boring documentary before he finally gives you his attention. “Go and get ready, I’ll wait.”

There was no way to know if Benny was going to be there tonight.

One of the many downsides to your sordid rendezvous with the youngest Miller was the secrecy, Will didn’t know he was walking you into a nightmare.

Fuck it, better to get it over with, you decided finally despite your tired bones.

You and Benny were friends first and foremost - you couldn’t let this get in the way.

Somewhat cowardly, you took your time as you began to shower trying to wash the last week of self-pity down the drain taking the layers of sweat and grease with it.

It didn’t take you long to feel human again, a bit of makeup and a brush through your hair had worked miracles and before you knew any better you were walking into the Irish bar, you and your closest friends had always frequented.

It turned out you and Will were the last to arrive and much to your relief Benny was in the bathroom - his leather jacket hung off the back of one the chairs and in front of it was a half drank beer.

You took your seat to the side of Valerie Morales, it just so happened it was the furthest you could get away from Benny without sitting on a different table.

“Frankie mentioned there was a guy…” She trailed off sympathetically once you took your seat.

“Cariño! We’re taking her mind off of him!” Frankie reminded his wife with faux annoyance at her prying. “Where the hell’s Ben? Cheap Bastard… disappears when it’s his round.”

Your eyes searched the room for the man of the hour until you spot him leaning lazily against the bar smirking like the cat who got the cream, deep in conversation with a remarkably busty blonde woman.

You can’t help the drop of your stomach or the narrowing of your eyes at the discovery, though the latter gives you away as Will follows your sights.

“Looks like he found himself a friend.” He mutters with an eye roll at his brother’s slutty antics. You try for a conspiratorial smirk but it lands somewhere between a grimace and a flash of teeth.

You’re annoyed at yourself for being so weak; you might as well have ‘BENNY’S THE GUY’ painted on your forehead.

So, in a display of sheer strength and will. You pull yourself together, you can be okay for three hours, you decide. Three hours and then you feign tiredness and leave.

Three measly hours - hell, you’d been pinned down being shot at for longer - you could totally sit in a bar with your not-quite-ex for three, maybe two hours. No problem.

“You get the first round in Will. You dragged me away from a great nap for this!” Your jesting tone doesn’t sound quite right even to your ears but you try your best to ignore it and persevere. The others grant you the same favor, though they believe it is a generalized agony in response to your dumping, rather than the conduit sitting at the bar currently flirting with your replacement.

Will holds his hands up in surrender, you assume he’s just glad that you’re trying for an air of normalcy and the next hour goes on with casual small talk, all dancing around the subject of your elusive suitor until you’re suddenly two drinks in and Ben hasn’t returned to the table.

He’s now running those stupidly long fingers up and down the woman’s bare arm, sitting on the barstool whispering what was no doubt filthy sweet nothings into her ears - you should know, he’d done it to you in secret more times than you could count.

This was textbook Benny before the two of you had begun your indiscretions. He never hit on other women in your presence as a sign of what you assumed was respect.

This meant that this behavior wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary for him, as such nobody so much as raised an eyebrow when he returned to the table in passing to grab his jacket before the two of them left.

“You don’t come over to say Hi?- What would Ma say?” Will berates him jokingly as they embrace.

“Ma, would kick our asses for drinking in a dump like this! … Y/N.” He nods in your direction finally acknowledging you with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, the action in itself is strange and you know he’s caught Valerie’s attention with it.

“Hey, Ben.” Your voice has a relaxed edge to it and you impress yourself, appearing unaffected.

He breaks eye contact and fixes his sights on Catfish before the easy smirk rises “I’m heading out, boys.”

Catfish makes an awful catcall which both Will and Valerie thankfully ignore. The latter glaring at her husband before turning your way, trying to piece together the information she had gathered in your brief interaction with Benjamin. If the sympathetic eyes are anything to go by, she’s guessed correctly.

Two years of secrecy taken out with one idiotic greeting.

A sudden wave of nausea overtakes you.

You don’t know how you even manage to find the toilet after giving a quick ‘Excuse me’ to the table but you quickly find yourself revisiting the beers and Nachos you’d ordered.

When finally your stomach seizes its spasming, you lean back against the stall. You can’t help but close your eyes and focus on the buzzing of the harsh bathroom lights. Your eyes well with unshed tears half from the gagging, half from the constant weight in your chest you just seem to carry around with you these days.

Your throat clenches, though not in the urge to regurgitate but to hold back emotions you knew were about to flood you.

“You okay?” You hear Val’s muted voice through the door and see her trainers through the gap in the bottom of the stall.

“I’m good.” You manage brokenly despite the constriction in your throat, taking a strip of toilet roll you wipe under your eyes and then your mouth, attempting to make yourself semi-presentable.

You barely have time to look up at the mirror before she’s on you like a flash.

“You and Benny…” Val doesn’t quite question, leaving it open ended. Your eyes meet her own in the mirror as they scan your form.

You don’t have any fight left in you, not to lie to Valerie, besides who cared anymore, it was over. What was the point in keeping up the lies, you had no face left to save.

“eh … yes?”

It’s somewhat freeing as the truth hangs in the air between the two of you. You and Valerie weren't what you’d call particularly close, at parties and functions you’d stick together and talk but beyond that you simply didn’t have much contact with her, you were Catfish’s friend first and foremost.

Don’t misunderstand, you liked Frankie’s wife. She was the perfect fit for him, she bought him out of his shell, she made him happy, gave him their beautiful daughter and she stood by him whilst he had his… struggles. Though tonight Valerie is the apparent key to your liberation.

She’s stunned into silence for only a moment, before bombarding you with question after question.

Where, when, how long?

For the first time you let yourself talk to another person about the intricacies of yours and Bennys situation. It's easy to talk to Valerie, she is a step above an acquaintance, whilst she knows most things about you, they have been presented to her through the eyes of Catfish. A man who loves you like a big brother. Whilst you’re initially hesitant, you find yourself divulging details that make you blush.

You unloaded the heavy weight you’d been carrying around for nearly two years and it was almost cathartic.

A secret shared is a burden halved, that’s what grandma always used to say and to her credit, the old woman had a point; your stomach felt lighter than it had in years.

Valerie listened with sympathetic eyes, never interrupting or asking for more than you were willing to give. Just taking it all in and nodding from time to time and when you’d told her all you could, she wrapped you in a hug; one so comforting it could only be from a mother.

Fat warm Tears ran down your cheeks uncontrollably and in that moment you despised the man; you’d never been much of a crier before Benjamin Miller.

“Enough with the pity party.” You huffed through your tears. “Damn, I haven’t been able to stop crying. I’m turning into such a pussy-.”

Valerie chortled heartily “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were pregnant!”

That single word brought your world to a crashing stop.

The comfort you’d found in sharing, well that metaphorical rug was ripped from beneath your feet as your internal bells tolled.

Frantic mathematics and tracking of your periods began.

Vomiting, crying, exhaustion - All reasonable symptoms of heartbreak and copious alcohol consumption.

As Valerie took in your widened calculating eyes her laughter died off with one last snort of disbelief “You’re not right? Of course you’re not. You couldn’t be…”

The whites of her eyes slowly exposed themselves until the two of you stare at one another through matching sets of saucers.

A baby.

A real life crying, vomiting, crapping baby that was half you and half Benny Miller.

As you sat on the floor of the bathroom in the Morales family home waiting for the four pregnancy tests on the counter to declare your fate you couldn’t help the sense of irony that had descended over you.

When you’d told him you wanted something more you had meant a few activities beyond sex - maybe mini golf or breakfast on saturdays and to be allowed to fall asleep after sex at his apartment. Not a full blown fucking kid and white picket fence!

The panic hits you hard.

You scrape your hair back from your face and put your head between your knees, Val spares you a concerned look from where she stood with the timer on her phone counting down five minutes.

Your heart was beating in your ears and a funny realization descended upon you; you’d never felt this level of stress in the service.

Not whilst your fellow soldier bled out beneath your palms as you waited for the promised medevac that was hours late to arrive. Everything was easier in the field, you sometimes wish you’d joined Santiago after the Columbia debacle that had claimed Redfly’s life, however third wheeling Santi, your persistent tremor in your dominant hand and your entanglement with Ben had all combined forces to keep you firmly planted in Colorado.

Leaning back you looked up at Valerie, your eyes catching her own before you finally spoke “How long?”

“It’s only been one minute, thirty six seconds, hon.”

“Fuck.” You grunt and resume your staring at the black and white tiled linoleum flooring.

“Would it be so bad if you are?”

“Valerie.” You huff “I’m a fucking school nurse; I barely scrape by as it is and Ben - well, Ben gets the shit beat out of him for a living, how are we gonna afford a kid? That’s even if he’s gonna be around for the baby- who am I kidding it’s Ben. Of course he’ll accept the kid. He’ll ask me to marry him out of a sense of duty and we’ll all live miserably because if he’s honest with himself he doesn’t want to be with me, then we’ll end up resenting each other and divorcing the second the kid turns eighteen-”

“-Holy Shit. Y/N. Y/N. You’ve skipped like a million steps there. You need to stop spiraling, there’s every chance it’ll be negative.” Valerie is kneeling in front of you now, a comforting hand on your knee. “Besides, even if it’s not, there are a million different solutions to your problem. You’re trying to guess the answer before you’ve even finished asking the question!”

Valerie, the beautiful Valerie, how were the two of you not closer when she had the power to stop your infamous anxiety attack in their tracks.

You took her hand in your own and the two of you sat on the cold bathroom floor, side by side for what felt like hours as you watched the timer move painstakingly slowly.

There was a knock at the door.

“Cariño, you two still in there?” You hear Catfish’s muffled voice through the door.

“Yeah Frank, use the downstairs toilet.”

“The hallway bathroom is-”

“Use the downstairs bathroom, Francisco.” Valerie’s voice was harsh and left no room for argument; clearly Francisco had not yet been forgiven for the encouragement he’d given Benny and his lady friend.

The guys were confused initially at your insistence to leave the bar after disappearing for 20 minutes and later returning with a puffy face though the rush to the Morales bathroom where Valerie had apparently stockpiled pregnancy tests since the beautiful unexpected but not unwelcome surprise that was Marianna.

“You know, if you are, it won’t be the worst thing in the world.” Valerie mumbles bringing you back into the moment despite she, herself, sounding somewhat distracted, you turn to look at her in disbelief. “Your cheekbones, his nose - ooh! his eyes but definitely your Jawline.”

“I like his jawline” You huff defensively before you correct yourself. “Sorry … liked his dumb fucking jawline.”

“All I’m saying is-”

The shrill ringing of the alarm cuts your newfound friend off.

Valerie placed her phone on the floor and turns to you, taking both of your hands in hers. “No matter what happens. I’m here now and I’ll be here every step of the way.”

You nod, squeezing her hand in thanks, the words can’t get through the clench in your throat as you once again fight tears. You release her hands and reach behind you pulling them from the counter in one swipe.

You place them in your lap and breathe deeply before you look down.

The definitive results knock the air out of you.

Positive, all of them.

Every single one.

You fall back against the counter, eyes wide and mind racing a mile per minute.

Valerie is talking to you but you don’t hear the words.

A baby.

Benny’s baby.

Your breathing is heavy now, your heartbeat is back in your ears and you can’t quite catch your breath. Valerie is stroking your shoulders with what you assume is kind, calming words but it does little to help as your ears ring; realizing this, she swipes the tests from your lap to preserve your privacy and calls for the guys in the lounge.

This isn’t your first panic attack by far, but this is time you can’t get a handle on it.

You’d had plenty since arriving back after your honorable discharge caused by your fun little tremor and little by little they had gotten easier to manage, though the catalyst had never been an unwelcome squatter in your uterus, so your usual mantra simply wasn’t working.

It didn’t matter that you were home, it didn’t matter that you were safe because the perceived danger had taken up residence inside of you.

Will rounded the corner and instantly kneeled before you.

“Breathe,” You hear him but it’s like you’re underwater. You look up into his eyes, as he takes your face in his hands.

Blue eyes, Benny’s eyes stare back at you. Though they’re not quite right, Will’s are guarded and calculating, but Ben’s are pools of emotion, they allow every thought that crosses through his brain to reflect it. Will does let some slip by his defense as worry not quite verging on panic, plays across his face.

Slowly you begin copying his breathing, all whilst staring into the circular oceans so similar to the man whose baby is inhabiting your womb and that alone felt like torture.

That was about three hours ago now and you were now in your own bed; completely and utterly exhausted. After much reassurance and many promises to call them all tomorrow you had been reluctantly dropped at your apartment.

Despite your exhaustion it was about three in the morning and you couldn’t sleep.

Benny’s baby.

You repeated for the tenth time this evening.

You weren’t stupid, there was a lot to iron out and the thought of a termination had been on the table. You didn’t have the money for a child and you weren’t with its father, you’d be lying to say the thought hadn’t crossed your mind.

Though ultimately you had dismissed the thought after much careful consideration, you were Pro-choice; a woman’s right to choose was important but at some point in the hours staring up at the dark ceiling you’d admitted to yourself you wanted this baby.

This time the thought didn’t cause you to panic or bring you to tears.

Instead, you imagined a blonde little boy with big kind blue eyes, your nose, his jawline and a huge irreverent grin that was entirely Ben as he played with his Father and Uncles in the garden at a barbeque.

Things like a big house with a goddamn golden retriever were suddenly something you wanted. Things that up until three hours ago would have caused you to break out in a cold sweat, the thought of becoming a soccer mom was never something you’d wanted for yourself.

Hell you’d never had a boyfriend that lasted more than 4-months, you’d never said those 3-words in a romantic way. Benny was your longest relationship by far and you could barely even that shit show a relationship!

You were cut out of your day dreams or rather just dream dreams, by a pounding knock at the front door.

Sitting up with a gasp you hurried through the apartment, treading lightly so as not to alert your intruder, you lifted to your tiptoes to peek through the peephole not before a quick glance to the safe by your bed where your firearm lived.

There stood in all his not-so glory the haggard looking father of your child.

The gun wasn’t completely ruled out as you whipped the door open, furious at his presence.

Refusing to speak, you stared at him. He could do the talking now, he could explain exactly why he was on your doorstep in the middle of the night reeking of alcohol.

“I miss you, Y/N/N.” Suddenly he advanced and clumsily cupped your cheek in his palm, his eyes were glassy and not quite focused. “I keep going to message you and every time I remember you hate me.”

“Ben… This isn’t fair.” You feel those tortured baby blues dousing the fire raging inside of you.

“I don’t want you to get over me,” With the grip he has on your face he surges forward and joins your lips, it’s sloppy and erratic in his drunkenness. It’s like a bourbon distillery has opened up shop on his tongue as he breaks away for only a moment to groan. “I want to fuck you so bad, baby.”

“Ben. Ben - BEN! Stop. You’re drunk.”

“I know, but it’s so good.” He’s kissing down your neck in the way he used to do when he was trying to make something up to you, this usually ended in copious amounts of pussy eating. Goddamn, you missed that. You felt your resolve waiver if only for a second as your lower stomach pulsed remembering just how many times he could make you cum on his tongue. (Five - if you’re wondering.)

Only, in the past you didn’t have a fetus depending on you for sound and responsible decisions, in an instant you pushed him away.

“You need to go home now. How did you get here? Christ, Benny you better not have driven.” He shrugs as he stumbles away to your kitchen and begins pouring himself a glass of water.

He was a selfish dick and you were furious with him - you briefly considered sending him on his way. Your rage, hormones and tiredness render you too exhausted for anymore antics after the day you’d had.

Your eyes are drawn involuntarily to the polaroid picture of the two of you in khaki grinning at a camera in a country you barely remember now. When things were simpler and you were still just friends.

Despite it all, he still was your friend and when time healed your pride, you would accept that maybe you didn’t want him to die in a drunk driving accident. After all he had been the one who had never underestimated you when you first met, not like the rest of the men in your unit.

Benny, your senior, who had picked you for a special op, introducing you to Pope and Catfish, then later Ironhead and Redfly. He had given you a chance when no one else would, when you were completely alone in the world, and it was long before you even thought of sleeping together; he did it because he was a good man.

It was for that reason and that reason alone, that after the shit he had pulled you withered and let him stay.

“You can stay here… to sleep, Miller. Nothing else.”

Benny grabbed at you in desperation, you readied your knee ready to rupture his family jewels if this was another ill-advised attempt at seduction, but instead he just … held you. All six foot of him wrapped around your body, dwarfing you in an all encompassing embrace.

His nose buried itself in your neck, inhaling the collar of the pajamas you wore. Finally after what felt like an hour of forcing your arms to remain at your sides and reminding yourself on an almost constant basis that you were beyond furious with this man, he relinquished his hold on you.

The two of you stood there for a moment or three. Awkwardly unmoving, unspeaking as you refused to look him in the eyes.

Neither one of you were quite sure how to break the silence - in Ben’s defense he’d most likely drank an entire liquor store on his way over here, if the sway in his knees was any give away.

For the second time this evening and rather altruistically of you, you take pity on the swaying man and you give him a “Let’s get you into bed!” with an enthusiastic pat on the back. It was only as he turned towards your bedroom that you realize your mistake in phrasing.

By ‘bed’ you meant ‘sofa’ and by ‘Let’s’ you meant ‘get your dumb drunk ass onto the sofa before you vomit on my rug’.

Though as Benny was currently making himself comfy on your pillows as if time hadn’t passed you found your resolve wavering for the second time of the night.

Now, it was entirely self-indulgent and so incredibly stupid of you, but after a milisecond of consideration you vetoed the sofa for yourself.

The sacrifices would be sure to come, but this didn’t have to be one of them. Sharing a bed with a man you may have complicated feelings for, undoing all the work of the two-weeks spent mourning, you could allow this ridiculousness for a moment of peace in his arms.

You could deal with it tomorrow.

In a decision you didn’t entirely make before your lips began molding the words you spoke out into darkness. “Benny?”

Only silence answered.

“I’m having your baby.”

For a moment nothing. Then in the darkness an arm wrapped around your stomach. Your heart dropped. How was he going to react? Why did you do that? Why would you ruin this small moment of peace? Why, why, why?

Before Benny tiredly mumbled into your hair, “I missed you too, baby.”

Silence made way to the rumbles of snores, you lay there waiting for your heart to slow back to its regular rhythm staring into the darkness with your stomach in your throat, disbelieving at your sheer luck.

You don’t know what time you fell asleep, though when it finally claimed you it was with the singular promise to the life growing inside you; Good decisions, they begin tomorrow.

The good decision policy, whilst great in theory, was not so easy in reality. You lasted all of thirteen hours before you were back to making poor decisions left and right.

Sometime during the night of sin, as you and Valerie had dubbed it.

As you lay in the arms of the man who didn’t want you, God had been watching and God had to be a woman, up there utterly furious at your flamboyantly anti-feminist display.

This wasn’t hyperbole as your world was slowly crumbling around you and you couldn’t keep up with it.

First, Benny being Benny and incapable of complicated adult emotions had dipped out before you woke up.

You’d awoken disappointed, furious and alone.

You’d tried his phone a grand total of seven times before you left him a voicemail saying you needed to talk.

A voicemail, he felt was appropriate to ignore.

For six whole days he dodged your calls, wasn’t at his apartment when you turned up and actively pretended not to see you in the fucking 7/11 parking lot.

It quickly became clear that you were having a child with a child.

On the eighth day of his avoidance, you sat in the Morales family kitchen - your visits much more regular since Valerie became your only confidante; your keeper of secrets.

It was as you were perched at the breakfast bar with the only person able to cheer you up these days that the second cataclysmic event of your week occurred.

Said person; Marianna Elvira Balmaceda Morales - was currently multitasking with one eye on the iPad infront of her and the other on her mission of placing as many Cheerios as humanly possible on your exposed neck as you rested your head on the cold counter top.

Needless to say the baby reveal brainstorming sesh was not going well. When she turned to face you both her mother huffed “Ay mija, no. Don’t do that to your tía.”

Valerie swiped the wheat circlets from your hair as you raised your head to grin at the child. She was 20% cute, 80% pure unadulterated evil.

At five years old you already feared her. She was a born and bred weapon, with all the charm of her father and confidence of her mother.

The loud clatter of keys in the door signaled Frankie was home. The man of the hour came around the corner and fixed you with a grin. You don’t know how Val explained your increased presence in their home, but he wasn’t surprised anymore when he rounded the corner and he always seemed pleased to see you. Though from time to time he did express jealousy that you didn’t come to see him, as by all rights you were his friend first.

This time however, his brown calculating eyes darted the room scanning for other presences before he pulled out a bag from inside of his coat. He planted a strong kiss on Valerie’s lips and a matching one on Mari’s head as he passed, you couldn’t help the jealousy that flamed in your stomach at their little family unit.

He made his way to you placing one on the crown of your head as he had done to the child beside you.

“Just the lady I wanted to see!” You eyed him suspiciously at his words. “These are for you!”

He placed a CVS bag in front of you that rattled upon impact with the island. This did nothing to combat your suspicion, so, hesitantly, you pulled apart the handles of the plastic bag in front of you before picking up the plastic container in the bag. You spun the bottle in your hands to read the label and dropped them on instinct.

Prenatal Vitamins.

“You told him?!” You gasped in betrayal at your new friend.

“In my defense I lasted like fi-no-six days! - He found the tests and he thought they were mine!”

“Y/N/N.” Drawing your glare from his wife. “I want to be here for you, just like you’ve always been for me. You’re one of the most important people in my life and damn it, I want to say congratulations! - And if the B- A- B- Y- S- Dad won’t step up then I will. Me and Val, we’ll be here for anything you need, Gordita.”

Your eyes welled at your friend’s words. He had been with you on some of the worst and best days of your life and his words were everything, they were words you hadn’t even known you needed to hear.

You stood up abruptly, the stool screeching under you as you pulled him into a hug. You couldn’t help yet another sniffle as you whispered in his ear “I love you so so much, Frank - but if you ever call me fat again I’ll make her a widow, Pendejo.”

Frankie hugged you back with equal vigor laughing at your words, you think he may have a tear or two in his eyes which he’d no doubt vehemently deny.

“You tell me who this punk is, I’ll take Benny and Ironhead and we’ll kick this freeloaders ass.” Everything in your body wanted to send a look of gratitude and apology Val’s way, every goddamn cell, but you held steady. She hadn’t given you up completely, you owed her a hug.

Catfish knowing about your baby was a problem waiting to happen but the addition of him knowing Ben was the father, well, that was a grenade you didn’t currently feel like jumping on especially when the asshole was currently screening your calls.

“Can you keep this to yourself? The father doesn’t know and I don’t want him to find out like that. Plus, you know Ben and Will can’t keep a secret to save their lives.”

With a huge jet-black lie, the second ball was in the air.

The juggling began when the third ball entered into play, in the shape of William Miller.

For the third time in as many weeks, you found yourself looking through your peephole to spot a Miller on the other side and quite frankly, you were over it, those blonde haired, blue eyed, chiseled adonises bought nothing but trouble with them.

“Hello, William, what another great unannounced surprise.” You snark, grinning at the older man fondly.

“We need to talk, Y/N - Ben told me.” You blanch from your position holding the door ajar, you can’t quite find the right words, so instead you simply move out of the way.

You severely doubt this is a conversation to be had on your doorstep.

It’s in the moment or two of recess you have making your way to the living room that you rediscover your ability to speak.

“Told you? About what?” You aim for easy-breezy but it comes across pained and guttural.

“The two of you. And the … activities you get up to.”

“Ah - what a lovely violation of my privacy, the asshole.”

“You’re angry at him.”

“Great deduction.”

“He told me he hurt you, that he regrets it and that he wants to fix it.”

“Does he now? Do you know what might help? If he answers any one of my calls or y’know turns around whilst he’s sprinting to his car.”

Will sighs and rubs at his face, it’s not the first time he’s had to put out one of Ben’s fires and you doubt it’ll be the last.

“Will - It’s not your fault, but please don’t come here pleading his case. He’s a big boy now, he needs to grow up and fix his own messes.”

“What I mean is - I need you to promise me, you’ll still show up. No matter what happens between you two. That you’re not gonna be the divorced parents who can’t stand to be in the same room.”

“I’ll show up - I won’t do that to Ben, everyone knows the kids always wanna go with Mom.” You light your face up with all the bravado of a smirk, it’s false but these days you’ve had more than enough practice.

Instantly Will pins you with a look that screams ‘Cut the shit’.

“I’ll show up, Will. I’ll always show up, but please keep it to yourself, I can’t stand any more sympathetic looks from Frankie.”

He answers with a nod and genuine smile of his own, it isn’t quite as cheeky as the grin Benny would fix you with, but it’s charming in its own way.

“Pizza?”

“Thought you’d never ask” He mutters as he pulls off his coat and gets comfy.

Three measly days, is all you managed to juggle the various combinations of half truths and point-blank lies.

It was all going so damn well, the guys both kept their word and kept their pieces of the puzzle separate, nobody beside Valerie had enough information to connect the dots and that was the way you wanted it.

It was Christmas Eve and with your parents being away, renewing their connection on a god forsaken tantric cruise, for the love of God don't ask, you’d promised you’d spend it at the Morales.

Festivities were just starting up when you arrived promptly at Five o’clock, you were showing up, just like you promised Will, despite knowing Ben would be here.

You were completely thrown when none other than Pope opened the door to greet you. You should’ve called time of death on your secret right there and then.

You see, whilst Benny was your oldest and closest friend, Santiago was your favorite. He made you laugh more than anyone, he was your platonic soulmate and you cherished him.

“Santi!” You all but squealed like a child given a present on Christmas morning. You grabbed him pulling him to your chest as he lifted you from the ground somehow he already had alcohol seeping from his pores.

“Y/N/N!” You chuckled as he placed you back on your feet.

“Jesus, Pope. Have you been pregaming Christmas Eve?”

“Guilty, come on, vamos, I’ve bought some Whiskey from down under.” He grabs your hand and pulls you through the door.

You’re undoing your coat preparing one of the many excuses for your sudden aversion to alcohol that you’d cooked up. In the moment you decide on; “I’ve been having migraines again, I’m not feeling like drinking tonight.”

You’re practically minding your own business hanging your coat on the rack when he grabs your arm and pulls you into the downstairs bathroom.

“Maldito mentiroso! I had an interesting conversation with Frank - turns out someone got herself knocked up.” You gasp at his accusation.

“You bitches… gossip like… like… bitches!”

“You get pregnant and you don’t call? You were just gonna wait until the baby pops out and phones me itself?”

“Hey! You’re the one that left me!”

“I didn’t leave-” He pauses for a moment and takes in a calming breath. “- That’s not what we’re talking about. Who’s the fuckin’ father? Why isn’t this cabrón taking care of you?!”

“Santi… taking care of me? It’s not the 60’s I’m a grown ass woman!”

“Look, you tell me who it is. Me and Frank can beat the shit out of him. My knee’s are fucked and Fishes back isn’t great but we’ll give as good as I get!”

“Nothings gonna get fixed by you and Frankie getting your asses kicked, Pope.”

“Fine then - you marry me.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head at his suggestion “Christ, Santi. I’m not going to marry you. I’m not a teen mother in crisis, I’m in my 30’s with a stable income. We’re going to be fine!” After a pause, you sigh and hug him once more, as if the marriage proposal wasn’t an indication, he is very intoxicated if the smell of booze is anything to go by. “But, I appreciate the sentiment all the same, dummy.”

“Well, offer stands.” He shrugs and continues onto another topic about your baby. Your mind is racing as the two of you exit the bathroom at the exact wrong moment, as Valerie opens the front door to the Miller boys and a very blonde, very beautiful plus one.

For a dark second you fix the woman with all the scrutiny of the hot sun, your eyes must burn a path in hers before you realize she’s hand in hand with Will.

Instantly you’re ashamed of yourself; that wasn’t very ‘Girls Support Girls’ of you.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you got here!” Val is positively cheery with a little sympathy laced in there for the unfortunate timing.

Though the tension is cut as Pope rushes them, the surprise and joy on their faces at the presence of their old friend is enough for even you to begin doling out hugs and ‘Merry Christmases’ to the new guests, yours aren’t quite as hearty as your drunk counterpart’s but you like to think it still counts.

It’s slightly awkward as you and Ben linger for a moment too long before you move onto the newest of Will’s girlfriends, who you have to physically shoo Santiago off of as he’s being far too friendly, far too soon.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Jennifer!” You grin at her, a hearty genuine grin; all the relief at her being Will’s plus one rather than Bens shining through, before you follow the troupe through to the lounge.

Marianna rushes you all, hugging her uncles and welcoming the newbie, all too happy to take the gifts from their hands.

Watching the way Ben picks her up, kissing her cheeks and placing the bag in her hands makes your heart swell about two sizes, he might actually make a great father, y’know once the terror makes way.

From over his shoulder Marianna fixes you with her sly grin and you were all too happy to place the wrapped box of the barbie she had specifically pointed out to you on Amazon.

“I wonder what Aunt Y/N got you.” Ben over exaggerates his voice, grabbing at her sides whilst she squeals manically before she is placed on the floor.

“I don’t!” She grins and gives you a poorly executed conspiratorial wink which turns out to be more of a strong blink.

“Shh, don’t let your Mama hear, get out of here!” She places a finger over her lips and nods before returning to her fathers arm chair where the two of them were watching The Grinch on the big screen.

Gloriana, Valerie’s mother was present for the holidays, a very chatty older woman, just what you needed.

Please note the sarcasm.

“Y/N! Hermosa Y/N!” She calls your name before pulling you into a hug. You know it’s a trap but you embrace the older woman all the same.

She catches your left hand on her retreat. “No husband! No babies! Your mother will want to be a Grandma! A gorgeous woman like you, should have no trouble finding a handsome man!”

You’d promised both Will and Valerie you’d be nice to Ben, but a week of ignoring you couldn’t go unpunished, so with the Miller party at your side you begin reparations.

“You’d think, Mrs Balmaceda, but it turns out men don’t like to settle down, they prefer to sleep with random women at bars and then turn up at your-” You don’t quite finish your sentence as Benny hugs the older woman and begins charming her with all that Benny panache.

Will chuckles from his place beside you. “Low blow.”

“I could’ve gone lower.” You snigger behind your wine glass of orange juice, which had been placed in your hand by a smiling Val.

Santi then grabs your attention by pulling Valerie's mother into a hug doting on how beautiful she’s gotten despite spending the better half of a day with her.

This fearless weathered ex special forces soldier is well and truly wasted. He’s a complete mess as the two of them converse in Spanish. Too quick, for your beginner ears to follow.

Mrs Balmaceda’s hand has slowly snaked around his lower back, it occurs to you that perhaps Valerie’s mother might take advantage of the young man's state, that’d certainly be a sobering experience - hard to come back from, you think with a chuckle - but, you make a note to intervene if it went too far.

“They’ve been drinking since this afternoon.” Val nodded her head to where Frankie had already sat back down with a fresh glass of whiskey in his palm and is currently stroking Marianna’s head like a cat.

You snickered at their flushed cheeks whilst nodding to the Miller boys you mutter “Why not, It’s Christmas and there’s plenty of time for you guys to catch up!”

Benny returns to your side before looking around the room and nodding at his brother as he grabs your arm pulling you into the hallway.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“What the fuck was that? ” You mimic his deep voice for a moment “What the fuck was avoiding my calls for a week. A-and get your hand off me.” You slap lightly at the hand that is still wrapped around your jumpered arm.

“I needed to get my shit together.”

“Oh, do you have a spare eternity?”

“Dick.”

“I’m the dick? You’re the dick!” You whisper shouted at him, poking him in the chest and narrowing your eyes.

You told yourself good decisions. Y/N. Good decisions.

The two of you stared one another down, he stepped forward until your noses were practically touching, you’re ashamed to admit, you did absolutely nothing to stop it.

Pregnancy hormones, desperate longing?

Horrified with yourself, you pull back.

Only, he doesn’t allow it, he grabs the back of your neck in his strong palm and pulls you back to him and devours your mouth.

This time he doesn’t taste entirely of whisky, it’s there in the undertones; a quick drink for courage before leaving the house, maybe? The taste of him is all Benny as you lock your fingers in his long hair and his tongue explores your mouth as if no time at all has passed.

You hear a cough behind you, bringing you back to reality.

You turn, utterly dreading seeing Santiago lurking in the doorway, however it’s Valerie and Jennifer, the former showing the other lady to the toilet.

“Don’t mind us!” Valerie is a glass of wine or two in as the chuckle in her voice is quite distinct and she makes no attempt to cover it.

You look at Benny who is basically a deer in headlights as you’ve trapped him against the wall. To Valerie who is barrelling past and then to Jennifer who looks like she’d rather piss in the kitchen sink than have to deal with her new boyfriend’s dysfunctional family.

“This … uh … it isn’t good.” You whisper to him before rearranging your skirt and reentering the living room with what you hope is a smile.

“Y/N! Where’s your drink?!” Santi shouted from across the room. Then, the smile became real, Pope was home for Christmas, this didn’t happen every day.

You decided to focus on that, rather than Benny and the fact you couldn’t drink that whiskey to forget the weight in your stomach.

It was cocky, when you look back now, to have underestimated the impact Santiago would have on your juggling. He was a nosey motherfucker who, deny as he may, loved gossip, of course he was going to disturb the peace.

It started with an olive branch of an offer from Benny for a glass of wine at the dinner table, which you politely declined. In your current state you of course couldn’t drink, you weren’t actually trying to make a subtle dig across the dinner table.

To which he retaliated by slamming the wine down on the table - much like a petulant 10 year old.

“Don’t take it so personally, Benjamin!” Catfish hollered obnoxiously.

“Shh - That’s a secret!” Pope hissed at his equally drunk partner in crime.

Valerie looked down at the table as if she wanted it to swallow her and Will’s girlfriend, Jennifer, looked as if she would happily go with her.

Marianna, however was unphased, currently showing a distracted Ironhead her school book, sparing annoyed looks at the loud adults.

“You told everyone?!” Benny all but shouts in disbelief across the dinner table. Gloriana to your left looks utterly lost, ready to question you.

Your worst nightmare is unfolding before your eyes, your dirty laundry is being exposed by people that didn’t even fucking know it!

“I didn’t tell anybody.” You hiss in annoyance, the whites of his eyes expose at the realization of his mistake.

It’s then, everyone decides to speak over one another, with the exception of poor Jennifer, the girl Will is currently holding hostage.

“Can everyone be quiet! It’s Christmas for christ sake!” Valerie shouts, trying to get everyone under control for your sake.

“I want to know! What are you not telling anybody?!” Santiago points his blunt knife your way in suspicion.

You’re about to tell him something much to this effect when a school book slams on the dinner table.

“Uncle Will can’t hear me whilst everyone's talking about Uncle Benny and Aunty Y/N’s stupid baby!”

Nobody needs to be told to be quiet anymore as the entire room is stunned into silence, Marianna’s abuela included for fucking once in her life.

You look across to the man who’s just had a life changing secret dropped on him by a five year old and if you had to estimate how that was going for him internally, you’d guess, probably not well.

Once the grenade had been dropped Marianna was forcibly removed by her Abuela and sent to her room, you had half a mind to rip the head off of that Barbie you’d bought her for Christmas, the little asshole.

The hell that broke loose once the young ears were removed was exactly what you had expected but not from Benny.

He sat there staring at you or more accurately, your belly motionless. All systems shutting down as the commotion raged on around you.

Valerie was defending you best she could, though Frankie was furious she’d kept Benny’s involvement from him.

Will was outraged at you for hiding his niece or nephew from him, poor Jennifer was sat in between him and Benny staring at her plate hoping this would all be over soon and Santiago, well, Santiago was just angry at the world - it was hard to pin down exactly his complaint as he spoke too rapidly in Spanish though if were to hazard a guess he was a teensy bit let down at not being told the whole truth after forgiving you for hiding the pregnancy initially.

“I appreci- I appreciate you’re all upset but this is between me and Ben.”

“The hell it is-”

“Santi. I’m tired, I’m angry and I’ve just been outed by a five year old. Don’t. Test. Me.” Your strained tone was enough to stop the drunk man in his tracks.

In fact it was enough for everyone as blessed silence returned to the room.

“We’ll give you some time.” Frankie muttered, his voice still layered with betrayal as he pushed his seat back.

Poor Jennifer morphed into Usain Bolt and was out of the room before you could blink.

There were general mumbles of protest but all followed suit except for Will, who was looking between you and his brother. He stood after his initial hesitation and followed suit, though somewhat reluctantly.

Once the room had emptied, you cleared your throat.

Benny was acting very … un-Benny like.

He was a hot-head through and through, always quick to react.

The man hadn’t given a single measured response in all the years you’d known him. Perhaps the only exception to that rule was when he was in the field where he’d give his train of thought an extra moment or two before it left the station.

And yet, he had yet to speak. Not a single syllable to help you navigate his feelings about the child.

So you had no choice but to go in blind.

“Ben?” His eyes shifted to meet yours but they were hollow; the lights were on but nobody was home.

You sighed, not quite encouraged but relieved he was at least semi-responsive. “I’m pregnant, it’s yours and I’m going to keep it. I don’t expect anything from you and it’s your choice if you want to be it’s father.”

He processes this for a second and when he speaks his voice catches in his throat “W-We used protection, you’re on the pill.”

“Remember that morning, when you bought me my antibiotics, on the sofa? - they can make it less effective.”

“You’re a doctor, how the hell-”

“I told you we needed to be careful!”

“I thought you meant my technique! Not-”

“I said that-” You huff in a calming breath before resuming “It doesn’t matter now anyway.”

“I guess not…” He mumbles, he’s abandoned his chair and pacing now, his hands are crossed in front of his chest, assessing the problem in his head.

The silence stretches out for a moment or two longer.

“I’m in.” You look up in surprise as his despondent tone betray his words, but there could be no doubt in what was said.

He had slowly begun pacing back and forth like a caged tiger prowling a tiny zoo enclosure. “This kid, I’m in. But right now, I need to … not be here … in this room.”

The ‘with you’ was silent.

You stared at his back as he retreated, on any other day the way your eavesdropping loved ones dispersed as he opened the door would’ve made you chuckle but the punch to your gut had you bowled over, leaning your weight on the dinner table as you watched him leave.

BENNY’S POV✨

Benny disappeared into the darkness of the backyard and sighed heavily as he pulled the door closed behind him, utterly thankful for the cold breeze that brought him back to earth, it eased the pressure behind his eyes that made his head felt like it was about to explode.

He took a careful seat on one of the tiny chair’s from Marianna’s summer set, the plastic creaked underneath him unsure, but ultimately bore his weight.

A fucking kid.

He was about to be someone’s dad when he could barely remember to eat dinner some days. His life was a fucking mess.

A baby with Y/N.

If he was less fucked up this would be a dream, but this was real life and he had little to offer a baby or her.

Only Fights, training and recovery scheduled around bottle feeds and sleepless nights.

He’d been trying to get his shit together, to be a better man for her. To try and get to the point where the thought of a relationship, of being tied to another person for life didn’t make him feel like he wasn’t able to catch his breath.

It was proving to be easier said than done. That night at Flanagans that you’d turned up unexpectedly, he’d been trying to fuck you out of his system.

Only it had left him feeling hollow and burning harder for you, that blonde was a nice enough girl. Pretty and sweet, but she didn’t laugh like you, with that goofy little snort and that pinch in your eyes.

He put his head in his hands and rubbed at his eyes, hoping to ease the pressure to no avail and this was how Will found him.

“You alright?” He asks as he takes the equally small and pink seat opposite. He takes a moment to get comfy on the groaning plastic before he pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “Frankie’s. Don’t know how old they are - found them in the kitchen drawer.”

“Those things will kill you,” Benny mutters, his voice all gravel in his despair. “Gimme’ one.”

The two brothers sat on the ikea kids chair set in the pitch black of Christmas Eve night, smoking and contemplating life in complete silence for a few moments.

“So… a kid…” Will starts with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.

“Honestly … I want to chuck … and it's not cause’ of these shitty menthols.”

“You’re a good man Ben and you’re gonna’ be a great dad.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Are you ever gonna leave the kid?”

“No.”

“Are you ever gonna do anything to hurt Y/N?”

“My track record in that department ain’t so great.”

Frankie’s voice joined from the darkness as he leaned on the building watching the two men talk with his arms crossed. “At the end of the day, you and Y/N, you’re gonna screw things up - but half of being a good Dad is just showing up for the kid and if you’ve got that down, the rest will come. You’re a good guy Benjamin, underneath the stupidity, don’t sell yourself short.”

“What he said,” Will muttered with a smoke between his pink lips. He reached up and took it from his mouth holding it between his fingers before throwing the rest of the pack back to Frank. “That being said, if you don’t get your ass in there and talk to that woman who’s chain you’ve been jerking for the better part of the past two years, brother or no, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

“Honestly, Ben - Keeping Y/N a secret. She’s a catch!” Frankie huffed, sounding every bit the scolding father. “You need to make it right. For the two of you, not just the kid! But, honestly, you fuck about with her again - I’ll be right next to Will beating the shit out of you.”

Benny stubbed out his cigarette “Great pep talk, Gentleman. Some mixed messages towards the end there, but overall strong.”

For a single moment you despised every well meaning meddler, every annoying relative. Every person in your life was suddenly too much.

Your ears were ringing; you were furious.

Always it was about Benny’s feelings, Benny’s incapability to deal with everything, yes, he was going to be a father, but right now you were carrying another human being inside of you.

Your hormones were through the roof, you had vomited for the majority of the morning and your boobs were fucking killing!

So, much like he had, you left.

It was your turn to have a dramatic strop.

You went straight out the way you’d come in and you were seated in your truck long before anyone was the wiser.

You were done - so fucking done, with everything and everyone in your life.

Santi and Frankie’s drunken looks of disbelief and betrayal.

Will’s eyes filled with abject rage.

And Benny. Fucking Benny.

Everyone could mind their own business as far as you were concerned, this baby was yours. If Ben didn’t want to be around 100% then he didn’t need to be, you and this baby weren’t a ball and chain, you weren’t anyone’s problem.

That’s what you told yourself as you sat in your truck in the 7/11 car park, a half drank slushie in your hands and the heating on full blast.

You could do this alone.

Leaning back against your headrest, your eyes clouded with tears and your throat constricted almost painfully as you fought the urge to breakdown, you blamed this entirely on hormones, fucking Benny.

You were a battle hardened soldier, you hadn’t cried in years - you couldn’t. You had fought tirelessly to prove yourself amongst men who believed you had no place amongst the elite. Even when comrades died in your care, you mourned them silently with a tough upper lip.

You mourned their loss in your heart but you carried on. Not a tear shed.

And then that beautiful blue eyed bastard had dug his claws in and destroyed you, completely ruined you. There hadn’t been a day in the last two weeks you hadn’t cried.

Taking a few calming breaths, you closed your eyes. You felt exhausted; both emotionally and physically drained by the day’s events.

Your eyes were flooded with tears as you finally allowed yourself to feel all your feelings.

The melodies of Olivia Rodrigo and Taylor Swift were a backing track transporting you all the way back to your teenage angst. Allowing yourself to break down was almost cathartic.

You’d held all these difficult emotions inside of you for weeks. It was like lancing the infection out of the wound. It was regenerative and eased the pressure in your chest.

You couldn’t say how long you were in that parking lot, whether it was an hour or three, perhaps it was 10 minutes but the busted analogue clock on your dashboard currently read that it was mid afternoon. Judging from the night sky, you could safely say that was incorrect.

Finally, deciding that crying in your car on Christmas Eve probably wasn’t the healthiest choice.

You wiped at your cheeks and took a breath or two to calm yourself.

You started your engine and began your completely uneventful drive back to your apartment. It wasn’t until you rounded the corner fantasizing about peeling this dress off and putting on some pajamas that anything gave you pause.

There sat the father of your child, leaning against the main door to your apartment block, his arms crossed and eyes closed as if it was a summer’s day and he hadn’t a care in the world as he bathed in the sun.

You couldn’t begin to guess how long he’d been here out in the biting cold.

Anger flared deep within you, maybe just maybe, if this had been three days ago it’d have melted your icy heart but it was quite frankly too little too late.

Instead, it pissed you off something rotten; he thought this worked on his timeline.

When he was ready.

When he could deal with it.

Melancholy gave way to her sister; fury.

Thrusting your key fob over the door scanner in one jerked swipe, the lock gave way. Allowing the door to open and jarring the man awake. Somehow he caught himself before he hit the thinly carpeted concrete, that in itself annoyed you a little.

Ever the soldier, he shook the grogginess of sleep from his mind and his eyes focused on you.

“…Y/N.” His voice was gruff with sleep whilst he dusted off his jeans.

Forgoing the lift that would slow you down, you childishly took the steps two at a time, kicking off the heels along the way until two flights of stairs were behind you and you stood before your front door.

Out of breath, you huffed to realize he was right behind you, your heels under his arm.

Benny was fitter than you on a good day but three going on four months pregnant, you hadn’t stood a chance of losing him.

After unlocking the door, you stepped in and went to close the door behind you, but his boot caught it a centimeter from closing.

“Move.” You hissed.

The surprise was evident on his face; he’d never seen you like this, not with him as the subject of your ire.

All you wanted was to take off your dress and get into bed, you weren’t in the head space to weather his self destructive, idiotic tendencies right now.

However, the size 11 currently stopping your door in its tracks clearly felt differently. So you fixed its owner with a glare that would stop any sane human in their tracks.

The thing about Benjamin Miller was, he wasn’t completely sane.

So he placed a palm on the door, not pushing but not conceding to you just yet.

“Y/N, Please.” Those baby blues weren’t going to melt you, not this time. He’d pushed you too far and this fury was too fresh. So in a moment of pure pettiness, you pulled back the door, his eyes lit up at what he thought was your surrender.

Alas, when you used the momentum to swing it closed on his foot, well, Benjamin should just be thanking his lucky stars that he wore his work boots.

You on the other hand were cursing whatever foresight he possessed, as the lack of pain meant that your plan had been severely underwhelming and his foot remained in the door jam, only now he was pissed off.

So like the children you apparently both were, you struggled against one another, him pushing; not quite with his full strength, but just enough to slowly slide you back with the door.

Just as he nearly had enough space to slide his shoulders through the gap you gave in.

Suddenly moving out of the way of the slab of wood, the shoulder he’d been using to push it open gave way quickly, his only saving grace had been the measured force with which he pushed against the door as he had been unwilling to hurt you. This gave him enough control to stop himself in his tracks as he barreled towards your living room floor.

If he wanted to be a child, you could be too.

“Really?!” He huffed in disbelief throwing your heels onto the floor, his eyes wide as he stared at you as if you were a feral creature who’s next move he was attempting to predict. You quite simply weren’t acting like yourself, you were always calm and measured.

Always thinking before acting and look at where that has gotten you.

So, to bring this infantile act to its crescendo you turned on your heel with a shrug and began phase two; Blanking him.

As it turned out, quite fantastically, that was kryptonite for Benny.

He tried over and over to get you to engage, but you carried on as if he wasn’t there getting ready for bed.

“Really, you’re not talking to me?” He sighed whilst he leaned against the doorframe of your bedroom. “You?”

“You call me immature, whilst you’re pulling this shi-” You pull your dress over your head and you assume it's your newly rounded belly that has captured his attention bringing his sentence to a swift end.

He had seen you naked more times than he could probably count, though your swollen belly gave him pause.

He came forward as you stepped into your pajama bottoms, it wasn’t until he went to place a hand on your tummy that you reacted.

“Don’t touch me.” It held half of the venom of the last words you’d hissed but it was enough to make him heed your words.

Reaching into your drawer, you pulled out a large tee and pulled it over, concealing your bump from those prying baby blues.

“So what, you’re never gonna talk to me? Not gonna let me see my kid.”

You ignored him.

It was difficult to ignore the bait, but you managed somehow.

So you got into bed.

As your head lay on the cotton pillow in the dark room, you heard Benny moving around your apartment.

He didn’t leave.

No, you heard him settle on the sofa and turn on the TV.

Even that made your blood boil.

“…just needed some time… acts like an asshole…” You hear him brokenly mutter under his breath.

Suddenly blanking him just didn’t seem like a punishment, smashing the Television over his head however, much moreso.

“I’m sorry? I’m the asshole?” Benny’s head swings around and searches for you in darkness, you know he’s suddenly cursing your studio apartment. You’re sure the regret would be clear as day in his eyes, but it’s not enough to give you pause.

“I-”

“-No, actually. You’ve had your turn to speak… you… fucking… fuck… prick. I have tried reasonable, I’ve tried nice, hell, I’ve even tried understanding, but I am done babying you Ben.” You take a few steps to stand before him. You’ve stunned him into silence so you continue your tirade, letting out all the weeks of heartache. “Me… Asshole… You’re the fucking asshole, Miller! Maybe if you could act like an adult for once in your fucking life, you’d be able to see I don’t want anything from you. Nothing, not anymore. Running from me at the 7/11 - What are you 8?! Fucking face me like a fucking - .” You can’t help the heavy breath that escapes you at the stabbing pain that lances your ribs.

Ben’s out of his shock, over the back of the sofa and at your side in a matter of moments, his eyes wide and filled with fear.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t Call Me -” The sensation takes your breath away again “Its the baby, I’m not sure - I’ve not felt this before, I haven’t read that stupid fucking book yet.” You huff pointing to the pregnancy guide on the coffee table, the pain returns again and you can’t help yourself as you grab at the sleeve of his shirt to ground yourself. It feels like a bad stitch, but instead of breathing causing the pain it’s sporadic and twice as painful.

“Hospital now.” He says sternly.

“I don’t need-” You gasp in a breath of air at the sharp pain - it’s not the worst you’ve ever felt but the risk it poses to your child terrifies you, finally your fear outweighs your rage “Okay, hospital, now.”

“Have you been under alot of stress recently?”

“No more than usual.” It’s an involuntary response, almost a defense mechanism - You don’t want Doctor Clarke to think you’re already a bad mother to a fetus.

“Y/N… What?.. Yes. She’s been under alot of stress recently.” Benny huffs, stood by your shoulder with his arms crossed watching as the Doctor takes your blood pressure, the snitch in question hadn’t left your side since your pains had started.

The blood pressure cuff currently cutting off your blood supply in your arm was bound to give you away anyway making your attempt at deceit futile, but you were still annoyed with him - so blame was firmly placed at his door.

Your Doctor said nothing, just fixed you with a knowing pointed look as she listened to the baby’s heartbeat with a stethoscope. Moving from point to point for a moment before she found it. “You’re growing a person Y/N. You need rest, a balanced diet and maybe some more rest for good measure”

Ben was nodding along like he was receiving orders from a CO. He had yet to look you in the eyes, but you imagined it was going to be hard to escape the idiot for the foreseeable future.

The BP machine beeped twice and of course, much as you expected Doctor Clarke sighed. “I’m not happy with these numbers.”

After a urine test and then a blood test. It had already been fifteen minutes of uncomfortable silence between you and your baby daddy as you waited for her to return with your prognosis.

You stared at the wall devoted to the shrine of Mothers hugging their babies, their names written beneath them, babies that you assumed Doctor Clarke had personally delivered.

“If you had to?” You questioned suggestively gesturing your head to the wall of Moms. Boredom finally getting you to break the heavy silence, that you had no doubt that Ben was too scared to.

Ben snorted from sheer surprise, the first words you’d uttered to him since arriving at this nauseatingly warm hell hole almost three hours ago were a lewd game.

He said nothing for a few moments, you couldn’t tell if he was just picking or still angry with you and ignoring your attempt to draw him in to conversation.

When finally, his voice gruff from lack of use he uttered. “Y/H/C one, third from the right; Carly. Got a thing for Y/H/C.” You ignored the butterflies his words inspired as you looked at the photo of a woman giving her child a piggy back. It’d take more than a few honeyed words to forgive him, but it was a nice start. “-Plus she’s got a dump truck, look at that kid hanging off of it.”

You couldn’t help your own snigger at his completely unexpected comment. Emboldened by your chuckle, he extended the truce “How about you?”

Taking a moment, you observed your fellow Mothers.

There was one with three kids at her legs, beaming. “Top Left; Trisha. I respect a woman who can have three gremlins and still smile - not to mention she's got a great set on her.”

Ben was still chuckling when Doctor Clarke wheeled in an Ultrasound Machine and settled on the stool next to it.

“How bad?” You grit your teeth preparing for the worst, you were a combat medic turned school nurse, prenatal medicine wasn’t your forte but you remembered the very basics at least. “Preeclampsia?”

“I was worried about it - your blood pressure and proteins in your urine weren’t great signs and you’re at risk being around 20 weeks but your blood tests showed high levels of PIGF - it’s most likely stress causing the cramps; your body’s way of telling you to slow down - which isn’t good but it is manageable.” She smiled reassuringly at you both, Benny placed a hand on your shoulder in relief. “To be safe I’m going to do an ultrasound to check the blood flow through the placenta and make sure all is well with the baby’s growth - we’ll have you out of here before you know it.”

Nodding as she begins to prepare the machine, you pull up your shirt to expose your rounded belly, Benny’s eyes follow your movement, his gaze almost reverent as he stares at your swollen midsection.

Closing your eyes you lean back against the reclined chair, your nerves get the better of you. You’d come a long way from the Morales bathroom. You couldn’t see a life without this baby now, it had taken almost losing him or her to realize that.

A warm hand gripped at your own, you knew the calluses better than you knew your own palms. Instead of pushing him away, you allowed yourself this comfort.

It wasn’t forgiveness but it was a truce; a ceasefire for your baby’s sake. Hostilities were suspended as you both held on for dear life to the other’s hands.

A steady heartbeat filled the room.

Badom, Badom, Badom. Badom.

Slowly tears tracked their way down your cheeks as Benny’s hand gripped yours tighter, he leaned down to a kneel as you both stared at the monitor in disbelief.

You couldn’t help it, you looked his way, trying to find the fault in something he’d done to ruin the moment, but you came up empty.

In that moment Ben looked like he was trying his hardest to school his face, to suck up the tears and stop them falling, but as he lost the war his eyes welled with unrestrained emotion.

Carefully he leaned forward, part of you braced for the awful mistake that was coming, but those plump lips instead, met your brow, as he wrapped his unencumbered arm around your shoulders in an embrace.

Those rosy lips remained there for a moment, your hands still intertwined before he lifted them to his mouth and placed a kiss on the back of your hand.

It was the most tame kiss the two of you had shared and yet somehow it was your most intimate moment.

The smell of him was everywhere, it was intoxicating. The aftershave he wore and a smell that was distinctly Benny; the piney smell of the outdoors, mixed with whatever drugstore deodorant he favored this month.

The two of you waited in tense silence as Doctor Clarke took images on the ultrasound. She was at it for about fifteen minutes, yet neither of you said a word. You merely sat there clutching one another’s hands, terrified the axe was about to drop.

Finally, when it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the too warm room she spoke up, her voice distracted as she stared at the screen in front of her, analyzing her findings.

“Everything… looks… good!” She smiled, taking her glasses off and focusing on the two of you “Your Baby looks healthy and the placenta is getting plenty of blood flow. I’m going to send these away for a second opinion to be sure, but you’ve got a healthy little … one.”

Benny squeezed your hand and placed yet another kiss on your forehead as he gave out a gruff hollar of relief.

Once again, your eyes began to pour as you sniffled. You couldn’t help the thought that popped into your head.

“You know the gender?”

“I do, I can say with about 80% assurity. Would you like to know?”

“YES”

“NO” Both you and Benny utter in sync. It seemed the two of you couldn’t agree on anything.

“I mean… you’re the one who’s had to deal with everything these last few months… if you want to know.” He trailed off rubbing the back of his neck, you knew he wanted to fight his corner but didn’t have the footing for an argument.

“Why wouldn’t we? It’d keep me up all night not knowing, plus I can paint the nursery and buy tiny little clothes… I want to know Doc.”

Doctor Clarke spared Benny a quick look to which he nodded his concession, she looked troubled for a moment before she fixed her smile.

“You’re having a girl!”

The noise you made was somewhere between a gasp and squeak of joy.

“A little girl … a daughter.” Benny mumbled almost reverently before giving a small laugh, a grin fixed on his face as he got lost in his thoughts. “Hell of a Christmas present, Y/N.”

The chuckle you gave him was nowhere near what his joke deserved but it was one of relief and elation, as you readjusted your hand around his own, you thought maybe, just maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.

And so, you made your way home, you weren’t quite ready to face Christmas at the Morales’ house, so you and Ben were going to go to your home, order whichever takeout was available and sleep for the foreseeable. (Sleep. Just Sleep.) However you needn’t have bothered with your plan as two distinct cars were parked in front of your building.

“Judas. You told them!” You slapped at his arm, your eyes narrowed in betrayal.

“You need to stop hitting me woman and yes - I told Will, didn’t tell him we’re having a girl though.” His voice lifted in pride at the end, whether it was of the daughter you were soon going to share or his resilience in the face of his brothers prodding, you couldn’t tell.

“Let’s get the guilt party over with then.” You huff pulling open your door.

Your key is barely in the lock before it’s whipped open and a worried Santi is on the other side. “Are you and the kid okay?” He asks forgoing any and all welcome, his eyes are bloodshot and he looks like he’s had better mornings.

“We’re fine, completely fine!” He hugs you, still stinking of liquor from last night, at your words and there’s a collective cheer from the other squatters in your apartment. Your arms can’t help but rise to meet his embrace, it’s Santi. He was drunk and you had technically betrayed him.

“I’m sorry - I was belligerent and just a bad friend all round.”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for lying to you-” You turn and fix them all one by one with a stare “-to you all. Keeping her as my secret, it made this whole situation not real for me, so I didn’t need to deal with it.”

“Her?” Will ever the observant pain in the ass, called out.

It had been a genuine slip of the tongue, you turned to Ben to give him a silent look of apology, to which he nodded. It wasn’t exactly like he could reprimand you for anything short of murder these days - and even then you imagine it’d be an internal dilemma for him.

“We’re having a girl.” Ben announced, his arm wrapping around your shoulder, the weight of the limb was heavy and spoke of all the things the two of you had yet to discuss. But it was Christmas, your dysfunctional family was all here; dinner cooking in the oven and cartoons blaring out from your Television.

You were exhausted from a sleepless night spent in the emergency room, but as you sat on the sofa, ushered there by an incredibly hungover Frankie and Will, a mocktail in hand (Val’s ever tireless effort to be thoughtful) you couldn’t help but feel warm inside.

Ben came and sat opposite you in the armchair his brother had frequented weeks ago and rubbed at his eyes, clearly exhausted to his core also, though rallied to spare you a tired smile when he noticed your glance. It was a gesture of peace and one you were happy to return.

With your loved ones around you and this foreign contentment deep in your soul, you couldn’t help yourself.

“So, what time’s Jen getting here?”

NEXT PART✨

#benny miller x reader #benny miller #benjamin miller #commitment issues #triple froniter #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic

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mushroomnoodles · 10 months

Text

its no problem at all- i quite love your comments! this does, however, make me want to go into some further detail on simon's journey and emotional state and just.. events during his pregnancy with morrigan. granted, i'm no writer- i'm much more of an artist, but i guess this kinda stuff has me thinking a lot? so sorry if it's weird.

tw for the sfw and non kink mpreg talk ofc, also i touch on simon being depressed and feeling like a burden again. but there's fluff in there too i swear! not tagging this under art because.. i didn't actually draw anything but myself. lol

i think something i find really fascinating, especially from personal experience, is how hard it is to change your frame of mind. it takes long, consistent effort, and you generally have to want to do it. simon becomes pregnant with morrigan, oh.. i don't know, 6-10 months after the events of F + C? he's 60 years old, physically at least. he's going to therapy and staying away from the bar, he's going outside for walks to get that sunlight and appreciate nature.

then GOLBetty dumps a baby in him. simon isn't instantly attached to the baby yet- this whole thing is sudden and terrifying. his mind is racing with thoughts of some terrifying chaos entity inside him, because god knows it's not a normal child with the way pb's equipment has been literally blown to smithereens at the mere attempt to monitor the fetus.

but he's refusing to terminate the pregnancy, because betty had to have wanted this for him if she did it. they wanted kids before everything happened, and she did so much for him- gave up her ambitions, her body, her humanity- she was asking this one thing from him, and it was the absolute least he could do in return.

also.. betty's not coming back. ever. not as his betty. this is a piece of her she's given to him. a parting gift. how could he ever let that go?

even at risk of death or worse, he couldn't bring himself to do it. and simon starts to struggle again, even if he tries to resume his life- he's so hyperaware of this thing growing inside him, and because of its mother he doesn't dare say or announce anything. he agrees with pb on that part- carrying a child of GOLB(etty) is definitely not something any of them want to make public.

he refuses minervabot's therapy in fear she'll detect his pregnancy, or worse, fucking explode.

simon's so guilty and yet so determined by his sense of duty to betty- betty wouldn't do this if she knew it would destroy ooo, he rationalizes, she wouldn't do this if it would kill him, surely? (golbaby, aware unbeknownst to simon, hears his fretting and decides to take a form that closely resembles his own, because they don't want to scare him.)

but simon's a dad at heart. of course he's going to warm up to the baby. and subconsciously, constantly defending betty's decision (to the girls and in his mind) slowly wears down his apprehension, too. and then he finally feels golbaby kick and it's scary because it's new but it's nothing like he thought it was going to be if he was carrying some.. inherently evil chaos entity his deepest fears (and pb, gently) were telling him it was. (not that he wouldn't have loved it in some degree anyway. look at him.) it was more.. just like a gentle reminder that the thing in him is, y'know, alive. like.. alive. it's just a little guy. huh.

and suddenly it's not really about betty's wish as much, it's about.. like.. getting ready to be a parent to this little guy inside him! and there is so much to do and prepare for. even with golbaby's powers sparking up and effecting the world around him in bizarre ways, simon is more and more convinced that it's just.. a baby. a baby what, he had no clue, but it was a baby, and it was going to be his.

but simon is still shutting down his life around him, because he has to. he's getting bigger and he can't really hide his pregnancy constantly anymore. he shuts down his exhibit and has to go out hunched over in his big ass bulky coat, and it's not too long before he simply leaves the human city altogether, because golbaby is fucking with any machine he passes by. and he's not about to be like, "oh no, i'm not trying to break your stuff, i'm just pregnant with the offspring of the most powerful cosmic entity known and it's an unfortunate side effect. sorry"

being alone is hard! especially when the pregnancy symptoms got worse he just found himself missing betty, not just in the normal way but the, yknow, you knocked me up and i could really use some emotional support way. but also in the please god i just wanna be a little spoon rn way. marceline was there for him (assured him he could call her anytime, too) but he wasn't calling her as much as he should. he didn't want to bug her too much. he knew the whole ordeal was freaking her out anyway, and he tended to keep his innermost thoughts to himself when she'd take him out to see pb. pb wasn't helping either, and neither was constantly seeing the effect the baby had on her equipment.

seeing yourself as something other than a burden and an outcast is a hard thing to get rid of, and sometimes he'd just cling to that idea of pushing onwards because somebody is relying on him now- even when the depression had its really bad point simon was pushing himself to take care of himself because golbaby was depending on him to. he still dragged himself to the store to buy groceries and shit, just for his kiddo. this idealogy didn't last- that he was simply going on because his baby needed him to, but it was a good way to keep his head above the water. simon feeling as though he has a purpose keeps him going through extremely difficult times.

things look up again when unexpectedly fionna and cake pay a visit to his new place in the woods. he tries to hide that he's pregnant- he has been since the start, but it doesn't work in person. he kinda breaks down and has a heart to heart with fionna, and they just sort of end up having tv dinners while sitting on the kitchen floor with cake as a pillow.

it gives him some time out of his head. helps him remember all that stuff minerva told him about handling his feelings and coping with them. he goes back to his walks (and getting that sweet sunshine) and i particularly enjoy imagining him awkwardly asking marceline if she wants to come over for dinner.. he has this board game he wants to try and he needs two people..

he finally says yes to the clothes shopping offer too after a while, and fionna keeps in close touch with him to make sure he's doing ok! simon loves listening to her stories and whatever is happening in his little brain universe. plus, he actually goes out and eats or shops sometimes! wow! he bought a lava lamp! cool!

and even when pb ends up placing that seal on him, he keeps his head up and focuses on those things to keep his mood and social life up because he's not about to let himself go back to that state of being again. you got this dr petrikov.

plus, when pb finally builds a machine that can handle golbaby's power and he finally, finally gets to hear their little, very much human heartbeat? he is over the fucking moon. getting to see that ever so fuzzy outline of the baby on the sonogram? serotonin +10000. there it is! simon doesn't happy cry often but he was happy bawling holding that little picture like a lifeline.

(side note, fionna is very entertained by how sassy he gets during the last few months of his pregnancy when golbaby is sealed. simon's filter is slacking. marceline's pretty amused, too.)

he feels like he can hold his own again, sort of, i guess? and golbaby is very much still his purpose, but he knows just being alive is good enough. maybe he still doesn't entirely believe it yet, but he keeps saying it aloud and in his brain so eventually he will.

uh, i was a human being who also felt like i had to have purpose to justify living. soo.. the ups and downs of the journey are important to me, cause i had them too! i'm still growing and learning (and i have a lot of work to do, i'm pretty young) but. idk. shakes simon around like a chew toy

#sona reveal?#prismocore lowkey #cw mpreg #hc moment #nothin but words #little nervous about posting this idk why #looks at floor

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insomaniacat · 17 days

Note

Asking you all of them from 1 to 20 ^^

OMG GLADLY

1. whos your favourite character

Kim Dokja 🫶 (fragment behavior)

2. what was your favourite arc?

Revolutionary arc my beloved

3. do you have a favourite quote?

Out of context would probably be "Even if there is an insurmountable wall between me and them, even if it isn't heard by the person beyond that wall, I can write something on the wall and at the very lease, the wall will change" from Jang Hayoung

In context would be when Jung Heewon said "I don't know anything about the future. However, I do know this. You said that you want to save this world? It's the same for me, too... That man is the world I wish to save" (that gave me goosebumps when I read that lol)

4. do you have any characters you wished interacted more?

Jung Heewon and Han Sooyoung! Han Sooyoung's relationship was basically the opposite of Yoo Sangah's with Jung Heewon. They developed quite a bit of beef with each other during the 3 year time skip while Kim Dokja was away, and it was really interesting seeing it get resolved due the Proof of the Stars scenario

5. if you could ask the authors any question, what would you ask them?

Probably if there's any experiences they've had that's contributed to orv's development

6. whats a headcanon you have that you absolutely believe is canon?

Han Sooyoung would've either a) gotten multiple degrees or b) attended lectures in various unrelated fields understand a topic before writing if the epilogues hadn't happened

7. conversely, whats a headcanon that youre just pulling out of your ass but you love anyway?

Not a very wild heacannon but Kim Dokja would've gotten into watching esports when he was a teenager but maybe after like two weeks of looking around at the major streamers he would've dropped it entirely because none of them looked like how he imagined Yoo Joonghyuk to look like

But he keeps up with esports news in a very casual way (probably the random news article here and there 💀)

8. whats your least favourite arc?

Peaceland arc 💀 I like all the arcs in orv but I felt like it dragged a lot. To be fair, I think a bunch of orv arcs drag on a bit, but Peaceland was so early on that it made me stop reading for a long time during my first read of orv

9. any popular thing in the fandom you love?

Not really a popular thing but more like a popular idea - that you can only take out as much meaning in a story as you are willing to. You can glean as little as you want from a piece of media or give it more meaning than what the author may have originally intended

10. any popular thing in the fandom you cant stand?

Not really

11. any character you wish we saw more of?

Lee Seolhwa or Jang Hayoung! They have so much relevance in twsa but not too much in orv, so I’m curious about them!

12. are you more of a reader, writer or protagonist?

I’m more of a reader. This kind of ties back to my kinship to Kim Dokja, because he lived to see the next chapter update of his favorite novel, which is something I did, too

13. if you could meet any character, which would you pick and what would you say?

Yoo Sangah. I’d just like to have a normal conversation with her tbh.

14. favourite theme in orv?

The broad theme has gotta be love. It’s been said before but you step into orv thinking its an isekai powercreep fantasy and it is quite literally Han Sooyoung with a metal chair LMAO

15. any characters you didnt love at first but grew to adore?

Jung Heewon. It's less of 'didn't like' and more 'neutral' at first. It was only during my reread that I came to appreciate her a lot more :)

16. what part in orv made you realise it was gonna be a favourite?

Honestly, everything going on in the Demon World.

17. any controversial takes?

Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung would've been fleshed out better if they had a relationship that foiled Kim Dokja's and Yoo Joonghyuk's (Life and Death companions, but where kdj and yjh lean more towards the 'death' part and jhw and lhs lean more towards the 'life' part) instead of romance

18. who would you choose as your sponser?

Probably Prisoner of the Golden Headband. I'd like to see more about his powers

19. whats your favourite duo?

Han Sooyoung + Kim Dokja

20. be honest - are you making it to the epilogue?

Absolutely not lol

#orv #asks #ask game #this was fun but took a long time to answer lol #when writing this i realized i have very little headcannons lol

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heliads · 8 months

Text

everything is blue • conrisa space au • Chapter Nineteen: Call Up the Cavalry

Risa Ward escaped a shuttle destined for her certain, painful death. Connor Lassiter ran away from home before it was too late. Lev Calder was kidnapped. All of them were supposed to be dissected for parts, used to advance a declining galaxy, but as of right now, all of them are whole. Life will not stay the same way forever.

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Connor fears that this might be the moment at which he finally goes mad.

He’s undergone enough to make the snap happen, at least. How much bending can a mind take before it breaks? How many separations, how much running, how much death and chaos can one teenage boy undergo before he starts to lose himself? Connor wouldn’t be surprised if this is all a hallucination cooked up by a brain that doesn’t want to separate itself from its familiar skull.

However, just why Connor would hallucinate this tithe of all people, he can’t understand. He stands there, blinking at the blond kid, until the figure of Lev Calder sighs, cracks a grin, and says, “Hey, Connor. Long time, no see.”

This, truly, is how Connor knows this has got to be fake. “Since when have you been friendly?” Connor asks doubtfully.

One of the teenagers next to Connor chokes out a laugh. “Lev, I thought you said you were friends with this guy.”

“I am,” Lev says, flashing the stranger a dour glare so severe that Connor is immediately thrust into more than a year of memories. Yes, that’s Lev alright. No one can cast judgment quite like a boy who’s worn tithing whites all his life.

Lev clears his throat pretentiously and motions for Connor to continue into the house. “Surprised to see me?”

“Surprised would be an understatement,” Connor remarks. “Do I have a concussion or something?”

Lev grins again. “I would make a terrible figment of your imagination, but that’s beside the point. No, Connor, you’re not dreaming. I should hope not, it’s taken ages to track you down. Hasn’t anyone told you to stop moving around all the time?”

“Yeah, the Proactive Citizenry,” Connor says wryly. “The two of you can argue over custody claims for me.”

Lev’s face tightens. “Trust me, there’s nothing I’d like to do more than poke a fight with the PC. They’re no friends of ours.”

Connor arches a disbelieving brow. “Really? Because the last time I saw you, you couldn’t get to a harvest colony fast enough. I seem to remember you arguing with Risa and I in an effort to turn the ship around when we saved your ungrateful ass.”

It’s difficult to keep the bite out of his words. Even though it’s been more than a year, Connor still hasn’t forgiven the kid for the stunt he pulled back in the boundary checkpoint leaving the OH-10 sector. When Lev had sounded the alarm, Connor and Risa had been forced to go on the run again, requiring the help of a sympathetic checkpoint worker for them to escape undetected. Even so, they’d barely made it out alive, and no thanks to Lev.

One of Lev’s friends doesn’t seem to take kindly to Connor’s hostility. He starts to move towards Connor, but Lev waves him off with a small gesture of his hand. Connor watches all this with faint curiosity– since when has the short tithe been able to inspire this kind of loyalty– but doesn’t say a word.

Lev picks up on his lingering irritation. “I wouldn’t blame you for being annoyed with me for how things ended in OH-10. None of us do,” he says smoothly, aiming a pointed glare at his vocal friend before carrying on. “I was a different kid back then. I didn’t know the importance of staying alive. I thought distribution was saving the world. Then I learned otherwise.”

Connor sits forward in his seat, unable to disguise his curiosity. “What changed your mind?”

Lev smiles softly. “Actually, I started having second thoughts the moment I turned you guys in. I couldn’t shake the guilt I felt, thinking that I had sent you guys to your deaths. I slipped away in the chaos when the checkpoint cops were trying to find you, and ended up hitching a ride on a mass transit shuttle. It was going to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, which I figured would be a good way to start clearing my head. Along the way, I met up with these guys. They call themselves the Chancefolk.”

Connor glances at the assembled group. None of them seem to be from the same place, all different heights and builds, different complexions, but the same haunted look in their eyes. Whatever they’ve been through, it’s been just as long and winding a road to walk as Connor’s.

“The Chancefolk?” Connor repeats. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

“I would be surprised if you had,” Lev tells him. “The Chancefolk are the native people of the galaxy. The group you see before you is only a small fraction of their true number.”

Connor turns to face him, startled. “I thought the Collective wiped out all of the native species from the worlds they conquered. People, plants, animals, everything.”

“Think again,” says a woman from the back. “The Collective would love you to believe that they’re the supreme authority on everything, but they couldn’t be more wrong. They miscalculated and mishandled the galaxy, but we’ve been maintaining the worlds all along. There are pockets of us in every system if you know where to look. We may keep our heads low, but that doesn’t mean we can’t look around and see where we need to be.”

Connor nods slowly. “I can’t believe none of us ever knew about you.”

“The Collective’s got a pretty good propaganda blanket across the galaxy, but I have a feeling that times are changing,” Lev tells him. “For one thing, you’ve got a friend who’s pushing that boundary.”

Connor breaks into a grin despite himself. “Don’t tell me you’ve been tuning in to Radio Free Hayden? Even in your outer rim hideaway?”

Lev chuckles. For a moment, he looks younger again, more like the boy Connor remembers meeting, and then promptly abducting, all that time ago at the beginning of it all. “Of course we did. That’s how I knew you and Risa were still alive, actually. I turned to his frequency one day and heard the three of you joking around like you’d never had a care in the world.”

The smile lingers on Lev’s face for a moment longer, but then his expression sobers again. “Speaking of Risa, where is she? From the way you two used to talk on that radio show, I thought you were joined at the hip, but you showed up here by yourself. Did something happen?”

A wave of grief washes over Connor again, even stronger from its absence. “Something bad. We were ambushed by the PC. She sacrificed herself so I could get away.”

Lev closes his eyes momentarily in grief. “I’ll pray for her. In the meantime, what do you say we break her out of there? We were planning a raid anyway. I think it’s time to show the PC that they’re not nearly as strong as they think they are.”

Connor nods excitedly. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do. In the meantime, there are a few things you guys should know about the PC before we draft a plan.”

The Chancefolk draw closer as Connor tells them about Dorian Heartland. He sees the outrage in their expressions, the pain and agony of knowing that their centuries-old foe is still alive. Judging by the steely resolve in their eyes, though, Heartland’s over-extended life may not continue for that much longer. Not if Connor has anything to say about it.

In the end, they walk away from that meeting with a plan. To take on Heartland and the PC, they’ll need an army. However, between the Chancefolk scattered across the galaxy and a fair number of personal friends that Connor and Risa have made along the way, they’re halfway there, and that’s not a bad start. First, though, they’ll need someone capable of uniting the worlds behind their cause, and he’s imprisoned in a harvest colony waiting to die.

“You’re certain this is going to work?” Connor asks for the tenth time. They’re approaching the exterior of the harvest complex now, nearing a service entrance at the back with weapons drawn, but even though they’ve been through the plan many times, all Connor can imagine are possible avenues of error.

“It’ll be fine,” Lev assures him yet again. “Listen, you saved my life when we first met, even if I didn’t appreciate it then. Let me help you out now. I’ve been owing you that favor for a while.”

“Don’t I know it,” Connor mutters under his breath, but he shuts up and lets himself believe in the idea that this might work.

Una Jacali, one of Lev’s closest friends among the Chancefolk, is leading the expedition. She looks as if she might be ready to assassinate Dorian Heartland herself using nothing more than her bare hands and raw anger should they accidentally cross paths. Connor never thought he’d say this, but he actually feels bad for the guy. Having someone as unbreakable as Una on your tail can’t be good.

Una signals to them, counting down from three with a free hand. When she lowers her hand, the explosives they’ve placed on the far side of the harvest complex go up in a fiery rage, drawing the attention of all nearby cops far away from them. The group sneaks through the service entrance and into the shadowy halls. Una and Connor fire at guards when they need to, but their path to the harvest colony is surprisingly clear, likely thanks to the inferno distraction still sending wailing klaxons through the complex.

“They’ll all be in the dorms thanks to the alarm,” Lev tells them. “We should head there now.”

“Remember, Hayden is our first priority,” Connor urges them. “Get everyone out, of course, but we have to make sure he’s safe.”

“Or at least his voice box,” Una supplies. “He can be shot in the leg and be fine.”

Connor shoots her a dour look. “The whole body needs to be fine, Una. He’s our friend.”

Una doesn’t acknowledge this with anything more than a raised eyebrow, which makes Lev clap a hand to his mouth in an attempt to silence his bout of laughter. “We hear you, Connor,” the former tithe says when he manages to get himself under control. “Hayden Upchurch won’t be harmed.”

Connor would appreciate a little more confidence on that front than just the word of Lev, but then again, the boy’s done this well in getting them thus far, he might as well have a little more faith. If anything, the religious upbringing in the younger boy would appreciate some good honest hope.

The group of rescuers breaks into the central portion of the harvest complex when the service corridor ends. Immediately, shots break out as several guards notice them. Evidently not every soldier had been sent to check out the disturbance.

“Go on,” Una urges Connor and Lev. “We’ll hold them off.”

Connor shouts his thanks, then takes off towards the dorms, Lev just behind them. Surprisingly, Lev manages to keep up, even despite his shorter stature. “Since when did you learn to run this quickly?” Connor asks, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

Lev chuckles. “A lot happened in the Outer Rim. I’ll have to tell you sometime, but the stories would take a while.”

There’s a dark glint in Lev’s eyes, one Connor doesn’t quite recognize from the short window of time they’d spent together a lifetime ago on the stolen shuttle of a Juvey-cop. Connor makes a mental note to sit Lev down once they get out of here and ask him just what in sunfire happened in the year since they last saw each other.

That is, of course, assuming they do get out of here. It is not lost on Connor that Heartland brought all the AWOLs from the Graveyard here to trap Connor once and for all. Although Connor and Risa already sprung that trap in the synth-park, there’s no telling if Heartland had a backup scheme that could be playing out right now. All Connor can do is keep running, and hope to all the heavenly bodies that this, at last, is something the immortal murderer didn’t see coming.

The two of them reach the door to the dorms. A quick blast from Connor’s gun sears through the lock, and he kicks it open. The door surges forward on its hinges, and hasn’t even opened all the way before Connor sprints through it. Kids are everywhere inside– sitting in the corner, talking in quiet voices, poking their heads out of doors, all of them staring at Connor with these wide eyes. It occurs to him that they might be afraid of him. When did he become something worth their terror?

Then a girl near him stands up with a start. “Connor?”

He recognizes her vaguely from the Graveyard, and although they never personally met, Connor seizes this opportunity to get back control of the situation. “Yes,” he says as loudly as he can, “It’s me, Connor Lassiter. From the Graveyard. I’m here to get you guys to safety. There are some men and women outside, they’ll help you to our shuttle.”

Too afraid to believe their good luck, no one moves at first. Connor takes a few more steps inside. “Come on, hurry. Unless you guys want to wait around and get distributed?”

That does it. The girl who’d spoken to Connor earlier hastens to the door, pokes her head out, then quickly waves to the rest of the distributes to get going. “He’s right, none of the guards can get us. Hurry, everybody.”

The teenagers follow the girl, pouring out of the dorms in a shouting, cheering wave of kids. Connor can’t help a smile as he watches the life spark back into their eyes. They’ve got a shot again, and he helped to give it to them. Maybe, just maybe, he can finally make up for what he’s done. He can reverse the tides. Little by little, Connor Lassiter can get back into the good graces of the universe.

Connor pushes further into the crowd, checking each face as he passes for Hayden or, with pitifully shrinking hope, Risa. He doesn’t really think Risa will be here, if he was in the mood for being honest with himself. She’s too important a prisoner for Heartland to just toss her in here with the rest. Still, it would make his rescue attempt very efficient if he could get both Risa and Hayden out of here in only one shot. He’ll have to suggest to Heartland that he re-organize his method of exterminating teenagers so Connor is best served by it.

The ridiculousness of that thought makes Connor smirk to himself as he wades further inside. It’s a little difficult to get through as everyone inside does their damndest to get out as fast as they can. Painfully, it reminds Connor of the mass stampede inside the doomed Graveyard when they had been found out.

Just like back then, too, Connor looks up across the crowd to find someone lingering on the outskirts, someone blond and tall who makes eye contact with Connor and breaks into this wild, bright grin that Connor hasn’t seen except in his nightmares in a very long time.

Immediately, Connor throws himself against the crowd until he’s in front of the boy. For a moment, he just stares, and then he wraps his arms around his friend, squeezing him until he almost thinks he’s forced the air from the other boy’s lungs.

“Hayden,” he says emphatically.

Hayden Upchurch, because of course it is he, hugs Connor back so hard that he picks Connor off of the ground entirely before letting him back down again. “Connor! Suns, I heard a few of the religious kids talking about how they got guardian angels when they died, but I didn’t think I’d get such a heroic one. I’ve got a poster of you up on my wall, do you want to see it?”

Connor chokes out a laugh, eliciting a proud grin from Hayden when they finally break apart. “Yeah, I totally believe that the PC let you have an Akron AWOL poster in their harvest colony. That’s such a bad joke, man.”

Hayden snorts. “They only allowed me to put it up because I promised I’d get them a signed copy. Do you carry a pen with you, or should I get one of my own? You know I have to honor my promises.”

Connor just grins. “How about you keep your promise to shoot those starspawn in the legs if you ever saw them again?”

“That sounds good to me, too,” Hayden assures him. “Now come on, I want to get out of here. I don't fancy the idea of spending any more time, even in these fine living conditions.”

Connor casts one last glance over Hayden’s shoulder, but the throngs of AWOLs have already started to disperse, and he doesn’t see a particular brunette girl anywhere. “Hayden– you haven’t seen–”

He can’t quite get the words out, but Hayden, careful as ever, figures out what he’s trying to say. He puts a sympathetic hand on Connor’s shoulder, gently but firmly steering him out of the dorms. “No, Connor. Risa isn’t here. I’ve been looking out for both of you in case either of you turned up, you know that, but she never showed. I’m sorry, man.”

“No problem,” Connor says with a heavy heart. “I didn’t really think she’d end up here, anyway.”

“The two of you split?” Hayden asks, surprised. “I thought you were together forever.”

Connor shoots him a questionable frown. “What in the stars are you talking about?”

Hayden chuckles, even as stray gunfire from the cops rakes towards them. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. The two of you were practically joined at the hip. It used to drive me crazy in the Graveyard, actually. Jeevan and I had a bet going on how long it would take the two of you to finally spill your lovesick little guts. Speaking of which, how long did it take?”

Hayden spares one quick glance at Connor’s face as the two of them run towards the exit and winces. “Don’t tell me you never said a thing. Connor, you’ve been leading that poor girl on for months.”

“It’s not that,” Connor protests. “And come on, seriously? A bet? I didn’t even realize I liked her until just recently.”

At the entrance to the service hallway, Lev joins them just early enough to hear the end of the conversation. “You’re talking about Risa, right? How they act like they’re supposed to be together forever?”

“Yes,” Hayden says emphatically. “Thank you.”

Connor sputters. “That’s absurd. Lev, Risa and I were arguing like crazy when you were there. Don’t join Hayden’s side, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You should absolutely join Hayden’s side,” Hayden says. “Hayden is always right.”

“He’s right about this,” Lev says as they race down the corridor. Then, to Hayden, “It’s the way they look at each other, right? They can’t stop staring. At first, I thought he had an eye problem or something.”

“Hey,” Connor complains, but Hayden just throws up his arms in victory.

“Exactly! The staring thing! Suns, they were hopeless. You’d think they got married years ago.”

“Can we please focus on getting out of here without dying?” Connor begs.

Were they anywhere but here, he’s certain he would have been ignored, but the rapid gunfire of Juvey-cops can derail any conversation. “Fine, but we’re definitely talking about this later,” Hayden warns.

“I’ll do my best to miss it,” Connor grumbles under his breath. Maybe he should have insisted that Lev stay back at the house, or told him that he wouldn’t ever get along with Hayden so he shouldn’t bother trying. Anything to avoid whatever surreal hell this is.

It takes a while to get all of the Graveyard AWOLs back to the house Lev’s friends are using as their hideout. The journey isn’t totally smooth, either: two Chancefolk and three distributes get shot as they’re running. Although the wounds aren’t life-threatening, every person with an injury is out of the final rescue, and Connor needs every single soul he can get so they’re not totally outnumbered.

Once back inside, Connor and Lev sit Hayden down to explain their plan. At the end, Hayden stares at both of them, obviously baffled. “I’m sorry, you want me to do another radio show? And that’s going to save the galaxy?”

Lev nods. “You would be surprised how many people can be saved just by hearing one voice. Or how many already have. You’re well known in the groups of people protecting AWOLs. What you need is to reach everybody else. Sound the alarm so they know it’s time to come out of hiding.”

Hayden shakes his head in disbelief. “This plan makes no sense. If the galaxy can hear me, so can the Proactive Citizenry. They’ll know we’re coming, and they way outnumber us, especially if we tell them when and where we’re attacking.”

“They already know we’re going to attack,” Connor assures him. “They knew that the second they took Risa. The only thing they’re not expecting is how many people are going to show up. If they hear your broadcast, fine. Heartland is assuming that everyone is going to brush it off again like they have all this time.”

“And we’re sure that they won’t just brush it off again?” Hayden asks, clearly dubious.

“I’m sure,” Lev answers. “I’ve been traveling all over the world since Connor convinced me to abandon my tithing. I’ve seen a lot of people in a lot of places, but everywhere, they’re starting to wonder if distribution is really the right way to go. We’ve got a serious chance now of changing their minds.”

Connor nods in agreement. “That’s the problem with Heartland, he’s gotten overconfident. He assumes that things will be the same way they’ve always been, but that’s not the case anymore. Times are changing, even if he hasn’t realized it yet. The time of distribution is over. We get to live again.”

Hayden whistles under his breath. “Damn, nice speech. Are we sure you’re not the one who should be making this broadcast?”

Connor chuckles. “Trust me, man, you’re the one with the star power. It’s your show, we’re all just along for the ride.”

Hayden’s bright spark of a grin shines again. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a better thing. Out of curiosity, how in sunfire is my broadcast reaching the entire galaxy? I mean, my old signal barely made it a few star systems over. There’s no way I can reach everybody on my old tech, plus it was all blown up when the Graveyard went nuclear. Unless the two of you went scavenger hunting around that wreck, we need more comms equipment.”

“Consider that settled,” Lev says. “I’ve got some stuff from an anonymous donor, really nice gear. They’ll be able to hear you from Centerworld all the way to the outer reaches.”

Hayden rubs his hands together excitedly. “In that case, I think it’s time for a show.”

Lev takes the two of them to the room where they’ve been storing the comms gear. He informs them that the Chancefolk have been using this place as a home base for technology and missions operations, hence why so much equipment has been stored up. Hayden’s eyes light up when he sees the new gear, and can’t contain his excitement as he rattles off all the specs of this top-notch equipment. Several times, he has to be reminded that he’s not just here to sightsee, but actually record something.

At last, after some quick tune-ups and test runs, Hayden finds his old frequency and starts to talk. He planned out a loose script with them beforehand, mainly just a few talking points, but they’re more than happy to let Hayden run wild with whatever he comes up with. So long as it gets to the main conclusion in the end, of course.

“I’m not dead,” Hayden announces dramatically to the microphone, “That may come as a surprise to some of you, given the recent lapse in broadcasts, but Radio Free Hayden is still alive, and so am I. So are runaway distributes across the galaxy, or so I hear. Personally, I have Connor Lassiter to thank for my survival. We’re still alive. AWOLs, if you’re listening, I hope you’re still out there, still whole. I’m glad to be back, but I need something from you.”

Hayden takes a deep breath before continuing. “The Collective wants your pieces. All we did was live, and yet total strangers are perfectly willing to tear us apart just because our parents and State Homes gave the say-so. I know this is wrong, and so do you, listeners. However, for once we’ve got a chance to fight back. I need you all to come to Dandrich-IV. Yes, in Centerworld. We’re making a stand against the Collective, and that means we have to go to their home base. I’ll relay the coordinates in time, but I need everyone to show up and be willing to fight. I’m sure all of you remember Risa Ward, a good friend of mine and Connor’s. We need to save her life, listeners, just as she saved your lives by proving that AWOLs could exist out there in the open sky. She’s our friend, and she’s your friend. Let’s get her back.”

Hayden sends a nervous glance Connor’s way, but Connor just responds with a single thumbs up. Hayden’s doing great, now he has to send it home. “We were never meant to survive for long, you know. The Graveyard proved otherwise. Connor and Risa and I, we did our best to show you that we’re real kids, worthy of living even if someone decided otherwise. I know that we deserve to live. We all know it. The Collective is trying to make you think that the fate of the galaxy depends on all of us dying for the cause, but that’s not true.”

“There is nothing any of us can do. We are children. We are kids. As a species, it takes us years to be able to tie our own shoelaces. We’re not even able to drive a hovercar until almost a fifth of our life has gone by. Why, then, is it that the burden of fixing an entire society falls to us? Maybe it’s because we’re the only ones left to care. We’re going to die anyway, listeners. We might as well die doing something worthwhile. Follow me to Dandrich-IV. We’re going to make a stand. We will be heard. And if we lose our lives out there, at least it’s more living than we would have done if we’d been distributed at the start.”

Connor’s heart is pounding in his chest. Surrounded by his equipment, Hayden’s lip curls. “Besides, our enemy won’t understand what it’s like to fear for his life. Did you know that the head of the Proactive Citizenry hasn’t been honoring his promise to only give distributed parts back to the galaxy? The CEO of the PC is a man named Dorian Heartland. If that name sounds familiar, it’s because he’s been around since old-Earth days. He’s been cheating death by swapping out his own rotting parts with fresh ones from kids. To all the adult listeners out there, do you think your children deserve to die so some rich guy out there can have eternal life? To the new generation, do you want your life to go to some man who’s already had more than his fair share of lifetimes?”

“We’re taking back our lives, listeners. We’re winning the war. I want to see you at the gates of the PC. I want you to make a change that generations after us will remember. I’m sending you the coordinates now. If you believe in life, I’ll meet you there. One last time, I’m signing off with everyone’s favorite tune. And remember– the truth will keep you whole.”

With that, Hayden decisively presses the button to end his recording. The grainy beats of some old-Earth song fills the room. Hayden closes his eyes, basking in the sound, his chest rising and falling dramatically. Connor, too, feels as if he’s undergone some great physical exertion, and all he was doing was listening.

When the last bars of the song fade from Connor’s ears, he breathes out unsteadily, not sure what to do in the face of this sudden stillness. “That was incredible,” he says.

Hayden cracks a tired grin. “Thanks. Good to know I haven’t lost my touch.”

Lev shakes his head in awe. “Not a chance. Man, if you hadn’t been slated for distribution– if you could have lived a normal life– you would have made a killing as an actor or something. You’ve got a knack for speeches.”

Hayden’s face twists. “A lot would have happened if we’d had normal lives. You’d still be with your families. I’d be with mine. They had a lot of rich actor friends. Maybe they would have sent me into that life. Who knows.”

Connor’s heart sinks at the grief plainly written on Hayden’s face. “A lot would have changed if we were never supposed to be distributed. We probably never would have met. I’d be a completely different person.”

“So would I,” Lev echoes hollowly.

“So would I,” Hayden repeats, his voice distant and toneless. All of a sudden, his head snaps up, and he makes eye contact with both of them in a row, quick and fierce. “I’m glad we met. I didn’t want to die, obviously, but I’m glad to have you guys. And Risa, and Jeevan, and everybody else. I wouldn’t trade this life for anything, but I do want to end the circumstances that brought us together. It doesn’t mean I like you guys any less, just that–”

His voice breaks off unevenly, but Connor can fill in the gaps. “Just that no one else should have to die even though we lived.”

“Exactly,” Hayden says.

Lev nods slowly. “We’ve got a chance to turn things around. All we have to do is wait and see how many people heard your signal.”

Although he hates to break the tentative peace that’s settled over them, Connor still has to ask: “What if nobody comes?”

Lev looks at him with grim determination. “Then we go in alone, and save Risa or die trying. We won’t hide in the shadows anymore. And if we die in there, then our blood is on the hands of everyone who didn’t participate. Maybe that’ll move them even more than Hayden’s speech.”

The back of Connor’s throat is raw like acid, but he makes a sound of agreement. Lev is right. Whatever happens from here on out, Connor will still go into Dorian Heartland’s center, and he will find Risa. Maybe he’ll have an army at his back, maybe he’ll only have a couple of friends. But Risa will be found, and for once, Heartland won’t have the last laugh. That, at least, he can guarantee.

They allow themselves a couple of standard hours for everyone to show up. As it turns out, they don’t have to wait that long. Within half an hour, ships are already starting to tune up. Voices are popping up on Hayden’s frequency, different people chartering trips together or announcing that they’ll be meeting Hayden on Dandrich-IV. It occurs to Connor, listening to all of these strangers he’s never met saying that they’ll follow him to death or salvation, that he may have started a revolution, or at least helped build a spark into a blaze.

If this inferno consumes them all, at least Connor’s last hours will have been something bright, something beautiful. He’s had an awful lot of time to run and hide. At some point, he has to turn that restless energy into a fight. Now is the time.

He’s interrupted from his reverie by Lev running into the room. The younger boy can hardly manage a word, too excited by something outside. He gestures for Connor to follow, and Connor doesn’t need any extra encouragement, breaking into a run as the two boys hurry from the room.

Lev leads Connor to the door of the house, then pushes it open. Connor stands for a moment on the threshold, blinking in the light, staring in abject astonishment at all of the faces looking expectantly at him. Some are strangers. There are adults and children, bodies young and old. Some bear the wounds of previous fights. Others wear clothes so nice Connor is certain that they must have come from Centerworld itself. All in all, there are dozens of people scattered around the road leading to their hideout, maybe even hundreds, and more arrive by the minute.

“So many people,” he chokes out in a daze.

Hayden emerges from the house by his side, holding up a hand to wave to the gathered crowds with a dazzling grin. “Turns out a lot more people believe in the cause than you think. Still having trouble believing that we’ll win?”

“Not anymore,” Connor manages. “I mean, I didn’t even know that many strangers knew who I was.”

“They’re not just strangers,” Lev corrects.

And, looking out at the throngs of people, Connor realizes that he’s right. Shading his eyes from the sun, he recognizes Bam, Mai, Diego, and the rest of the group that had saved him when Heartland first tried to get to Connor. He leaves his friends at the doorstep, weaving through the crowds until he’s in front of them.

“You guys came,” he says in a daze.

Bam nods impatiently, although she can’t seem to hide a proud grin. “You kept your promise.”

“Plus, someone wanted to meet her hero,” Mai adds. Bam elbows her in the ribs, but the embarrassment on the girl’s face shows some truth to the statement.

“Go talk to him,” Connor encourages. “Hayden always likes meeting new people.”

He doesn’t stick around to see if Bam goes or not, distracted by another face in the crowds.

At first, he can’t quite place the old woman in the security uniform, but then she sighs deeply at the confusion on his face and the name instantly comes back to him. “Sonia?” Connor asks in astonishment. It’s the woman who rescued him and Risa at the OH-10 boundary checkpoint.

“Don’t look so surprised, boy,” Sonia says irritably. “I saved you once before, I assumed I’d have to do it again. Didn’t expect this sort of support, though.”

For once, the perpetual glower on her face lightens into a half smile. “I’m proud, Connor Lassiter. This change is a long time coming.”

“It is,” Connor agrees. Another figure emerging from the crowd calls his attention yet again, and he heads past Sonia to come to a stop in front of one particular cyborg that Connor never thought he’d see again.

At first, all of Connor’s systems go on high alert. Then, before Connor can even ask what in sunfire he’s doing here, Cam holds up a mechanical hand and answers the unspoken question, “I’m here for Risa, not for you. Trust me. She saved my life by getting me off the planet. I need to return the favor, and for real this time. In all honesty. To be completely genuine.”

Connor chuckles. “I think we’re in agreement there.”

He spins in a slow circle, still surprised by all of these faces smiling at him, ready to go to war so that he and every other teenager there can live. When he stops moving, another person has replaced Cam.

Connor’s heart lurches in his throat. “Grace,” he says. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Grace Skinner taps her fingers together, her expression as practical as ever. “I didn’t know either,” she answers honestly. “I think it’s good, though. That man has to pay for what he did to Argie. He killed my brother. I want to be part of the group that kills him. It’s only fair.”

“That sounds good to me,” Connor admits. “And Grace– I’m sorry. Even still.”

“I know,” she tells him. “Let’s get our revenge, then.”

A careful smile rises to Connor’s lips. This emotion coasting over him in waves isn’t happiness, not exactly, but it feels pretty damn good, too. Looking around at all of these people, the Chancefolk talking to Lev, the crowds of old friends from the Graveyard, the AWOLs and adults who have united under this one banner, Connor realizes that he’s finally got his army. The only thing left, then, is to get his girl.

Dorian Heartland has no idea what’s about to hit him.

unwind tag list: @locke-writes, @reinekes-fox, @sirofreak

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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graciegoeskrazy · 1 year

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Sharper (rewrite) - Chapter 1 - i feel the earth move

Warnings: Language, mention of rape, mentions of kidnaping, mentions of sexual assault, Mentions of CPS, social workers, bars, New York City (lol), mentions of sex workers, mentions of drugs and drinking

Word Count: ~3,000

A/N: READ THE WARNINGS. Its me hi I’m the fucking writer thats always missing its me. Okay we have a series yay! I know this seems really fucking crazy but I’ve had this idea for a really long time and I’m really excited for y’all to read. So far i have the first chapter (duh) and last chapter done along with some bits in between and I’m really excited for y’all too read. Okay thats all ill say now okay i love u byeeeee

The streets of New York City were never friendly. Especially to 16 year olds like you. Rain poured and mixed into the dirty snow that had fallen earlier that day, creating a rotten and thick atmosphere surrounding the city. You thought about other families on Christmas Eve. Kids getting ready for bed, awaiting the arrival of Santa and the presents he’ll bring. Families walking home from church, admiring the lights that covered the city. You should be experiencing things like that - joy, cheer, happiness. However, it all seemed to be the exact opposite.

After your mom died you were immediately thrown at CPS who sent you straight into foster care. You had no family except your mom. Your grandparents might have been alive but you had no fucking clue because they turned their backs on your mom and you the second they found out she was pregnant. With no support and no money, your broke single money turned to being a sex worker. And even though there were friends she made along the way at work and they treated you like you were their niece, all of them knew that living with them in the midst of their line of work was no place for a kid. They cared too much to let you be around that, and you understood. So, foster care it was.

Your foster parents honestly didn’t give a shit, so you offered a deal to them - give you a share of the money they get monthly from the state, and you will be out of their hair and will never ask for anything from them. Not surprisingly at all, they said yes. When your social worker found out, she didn’t care, she just wanted a cut of your money. For awhile, you would stay in and out of shelters throughout the city, eventually leaving after a little while to avoid the risk of anyone getting suspicious and calling CPS. When that didn’t work, you would bounce between the couches of your friends, slowly but surely giving up hope of ever finding a permanent home. Even with your cut from your foster parents and money at your shitty job at Starbucks your social worker set you up with, it still definitely wasn’t enough to pay rent of anything. But it was enough to pay for your own food, your own clothes, and a ticket from point a to point b. So that was how you lived. For 10 whole months. And that’s what its looked like for the past week. Couch hopping, working, still going to fucking school, and all the while not having a single moment to grieve the loss of your mom.

You were on the way to a bar to have your annual meeting with your social worker. You had an informal meeting with your social worker at least every other week. Even though they were brief, they were still a constant pain in your ass. You wanted life to keep moving. Move away from the pain and heartache of your mom’s death, and all the other pain and suffering that came along with it, but these meetings always seemed to drag you back under. It always felt like a constant reminder of what you went through and how you got here.

You immediately spotted her. You sat down across from her at a table. She continued writing down whatever it was she was doing as you walked in. She acknowledged your presence, but never looked up once.

“You’re late.” She said.

“Yeah. I know. I couldn’t get a cab. It’s fucking Christmas Eve.” You said as you sat.

She finally met your gaze, “What have I said about cursing?”

You just shrugged, “Last time I checked I don’t get in trouble for language.”

Jenny sighed again, “It’s still not classy.”

“Meeting at a bar at nearly midnight with your 16 year old client isn’t classy either.”

“It's a restaurant too.” She said, matter of factly.

You rolled your eyes and Jenny let out a smirk, knowing she had gotten under your skin already. She straightened up at an attempt to reset. “How’s life been treating you Mazie?”

“Pretty Shitily.”

Jenny continued to write in her files. “I can imagine. Where were you tonight?”

You took a seat, “Out with a friend from work. Caroline.”

“A friend from work at Starbucks?”

You looked anywhere but her, already tired of her fake niceties “Yeah.”

“How’s the Job you like it?”

You signed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Working hard? Putting in the hours?”

“Yeah.”

Jenny finally looked up. “Hmm. That’s really interesting because I checked in on the Starbucks you’re working at and they said you got fired 2 weeks ago.”

You were caught.

For a moment you thought about keeping up with the lie. But you very quickly came to the conclusion that it would only make things worse. “Okay listen, I can explain.”

“Strike one.” She said, as she went back to write in her files, probable making note of your job status.

“Listen to me, My boss, Samuel...he was being a real perv-“

“To you or others?”

You paused and shrugged, eyes never leaving her. “What do you think?”

Jenny looked down. She wouldn’t wish what you had been through on anybody, But she wasn’t gonna let you off the hook. Job or no job, someone would find out sooner or later and it would end up getting herself in trouble

“it’s apart of your agreement.”

“You taking a cut from my foster parents isn't a part of the agreement?!”

“Quiet down, will you? Look, I'm trying to help you. I know it’s been rough since you lost your Mom, and all i’m trying to do is help you maintain a life. A life your mom would’ve wanted.”

“My mom wouldn’t want me in a fucking foster system or working shifts at starbucks for less than minimum wage.”

“Look, I don’t really give a shit. I’m just trying to do my job.”

“That’s a first-”

“Cut it out.” She said Sharply. “Can we carry on with the questions?”

You nodded.

Jenny continued, “Last time you did drugs?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ve told you, since I went into the system.”

“So a couple months, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“So let me ask you this. If I get a drug test from my car, it’s gonna come back negative, right? Because you haven’t done anything tonight?”

“Yeah.” You said hesitantly.

“Are you sure about that? Because im gonna be really fucking pissed if I have to go all the way to my car and back to get a drug test just to prove that you’ve been lying to me.”

You knew that she knew. There was no getting out of it. “Ok so I may have done a little tonight. But it wasn’t a lot! It was barely any!”

“Strike 2.”

“C’mon man!”

“Do you want me to bring you in right now? Is that what you want? Cause I’d be happy to hand you over to another couple who don’t give a single shit about you.”

“You’re a fucking monster.”

“No. I’m just doing my job.”

“And you’re pretty fucking bad at it.” A new voice spoke. Your eyes caught sight of a man with dark hair and a long black trench coat. You looked slightly familiar, but Jenny continued to speak before you had the chance to fully question his familiarity.

“Excuse me?” She said,

“I’m just saying, If there’s a reason she’s acting like this then maybe you’re doing something wrong.”

Confusion made itself apparent on your face as you looked at the two as the continued to speak.

“Sir, can I help you?”

“Yeah.” He said with a smile before it morphed into a blank stare. “No.” he said.

He must be drunk as hell.

He cleared his throat before continuing. “Look, let me pay you to walk away.

Jenny’s unimpressed expression never changed as she spoke. “You must be drunk.”

The man laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”

Knew it.

——-

Jenny and the man continued to talk quietly, coming up with some sort of price. You were absolutely speechless. Maybe I can make a run for it now? That would definitely lead to trouble once Jenny inevitably found you again. What about when she leaves? When it’s just me and that dude? That could work. Throughout all the questions filling up your brain, the most frequent one was equally simple and terrifying… What the hell did he want with me?

Before you could fully think about that one, Jenny came back, seemingly packing up her files and folders Not saying a word to you. So, you spoke up.

“You really gonna let him do this?!”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll be fine. He’ll probably let you walk away, your record will stay spotless, and I won't have to deal with your bullshit-”

“Are you fucking insane?! Look at him he’s probably gonna assault me or rape me or something sketchy as hell.!”

“Not my problem.”

“Yes, it’s your problem. That's your fucking job!”

She turned to give you one last cold glare. “Well…nothing you haven't dealt with before.”

You were speechless. All you wanted to do was punch her across the face until she was out cold, but nothing would come out.

She made her way out the door but turned out to give you one last glare. “Happy Holidays motherfucker.” she said.

You were slouched in your seat, arms crossed, eyes looking down in disbelief. From the second you got a good look at his guy, you knew he was bad news. You had yet to learn what would happen or where you would end up next. You snapped out of your thoughts when a certain voice appeared.

“Hi.” He said, sounding almost chipper.

You didn’t respond, just stared at him, arms still crossed. He took another sip of his drink before continuing. “What’s your name?”

“...Mazie.” You said hesitantly.

He sucked in a breath. You weren't sure what that meant, but you had no time to think about it before he continued talking.

“How old are you Mazie?”

You hesitated. What kind of creepy ass shit was he into?

“16.” You said sharply. You couldn’t let down your guard for one second. You were tough and not to be messed with, and this guy needed to know that.

You noticed how he hesitated again. He took one last sip of his drink before standing up off the stool and making his way towards you,but still giving you some space.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

“Not really, no.” You quickly said.

He hummed. “May I?” he said, gesturing to the seat across from you in the booth you were still sitting in.

“It's a free country isn't it?” You said. He took that as a yes.

“I’m Max.” He reached out his hand as an offering. You pondered for a moment, then shook his hand.

“What do you want with me, Max?”

He let out a slight dry chuckle. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Mazie. If that's what your thinking”

“Soooo…you just gonna let me go? Pay a random woman 7.000 cash to let a random 16-year-old free out of what…the goodness of your heart?”

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Come with me.”

He led you outside. Waiting for you both was a sleek, black, sports car you presumed was Max’s. He opened the door for you and gestured for you to get in.

“Fuck no.” You spat.

“I told you I’m not gonna hurt you-”

“And why should I believe you?”

He was about to open his mouth but stopped himself.

“You can’t really I guess.”

That caught you off guard. For some reason it made you trust him a tiny bit more. For whatever reason, you were definitely interested in whatever skeam he had planned.

He reached into the car and pulled out a wad of cash. “Here,” he said, throwing it to you.

You caught it and took a look. $1,000 dollars cash was sitting in the palm of your hand. You tried to remain natural and chill. “What’s this for?” you asked.

“That’s your cut.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking and driving.”

“And you shouldn’t be alone on the streets of New York.”

“I shouldn’t be talking to strangers ethier. Let alone getting in the car with them.”

“Let’s not be strangers then, huh?”

The car ride was quiet. He put on some sort of Christmas music on low volume as he drove. The city was alive and bright. People and families crowding the streets, once again making you think of your family and what you used to have. Those thoughts came to a halt as he pulled into a large parking garage next to what you assumed to be Max’s apartment building. A doorman created the two of you as he led you to the elevator. The both of you still hadn’t said a word since the bar.

He opened the door and motioned for you to go inside.

“You think I'm dumb or something? I’m not going in there.”

He rolled his eyes before looking at you. “This entire apartment complex is filled head to toe with multiple alarm systems, 4 Security guards only a couple floors down, one of which you met and knows your face, and constantly servailed cameras in every corner.”

You just stared at him, trying to think of something to say. He beat you to it.

“And if you wanted to leave, I would let you leave.”

You nodded, and walked in.

His apartment was smaller than you expected, but you were mainly surprised about how clean it was.

“Cool Place.” You said.

He took his jacket off and put his keys down.

“You can sleep on the couch, or leave if you want. No drugs. No coming into my room.”

He slammed the door, not giving you another look. “Coolio.”

This is gonna be interesting.

——-

The clanging of pots and pans startled you. You turned to see max preparing some kind of breakfast.

“Morning.” He said.

You didn’t reply, just stood still. Taking in and remembering all of the events that took place the night before. He continued.

“What’s your favorite movie?”

Out of everything he could’ve said, you didn’t expect those word to come out of her mouth. “What’s my favorite movie?”

He nodded.

“Interstellar.” You said without taking your eyes off him, trying to keep up the tough exterior.

“Really? Why?”

“I like space and I have daddy issues.” You said bluntly. He made a mental note to check in on that later. He continued, “I think it's a classic.”

“You like that one?” You said surprised as you took a sip of the coffee he gave you.

“Yeah. It's always been a favorite of mine.”

“Damn, I can’t believe you’ve actually seen that film.”

“I haven’t.” He said, giving you a glare.

“What?”

“I lied.”

“Why?”

“To trick you.”

“Okay?” You were thoroughly confused.

Max got up. “That’s what I’m gonna teach you to do.”

You sat in silence as he grabbed a stack of newspapers and but the on the coffee table in front of you. “Read those. Front to back.”

You scoffed and picked up the papers. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Where’s that money I gave you?”

“In my jacket.”

He grabbed it and turned to you. From now on, every time you curse I get 100 back.”

“Fuck that, that’s my money!”

He pulled it away before you could grab it back from him.

“Another 100 gone. 800 left.” He put the remaining money back on the table and you immediately put it into your pants pocket.

“Where are you going?” You said.

“Out. I’ll be back later. Read those or leave.”

He slammed the door.

You just stood there.

How did the fuck did I get here?

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x daughter!reader #max x teen!reader #sharper #Sebastian San x teen!reader #sebastian stan x teen!daughter!reader #sebastian stan x child!reader

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ryansjane · 7 months

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Why do you think cooking crush kinda flopped? OG are still pretty popular no? Or is it that the show is kinda basic, like something we’ve seen before? I also don’t remember seeing too much promotion but maybe I just missed it.

Also did u see off and gun saying they want to be doing what they’re doing now 10 years from now? I think that’s a good indicator that a “break up” isn’t on the way :)

I'm actually thinking of making a video on the topic on my channel lol, but to summarize I think there's so many elements:

1) cooking crush is a more basic show, and those tend to gather success only if they have a new ship attached to them that gathered attention (ex: 2gether, msp, etc.) also I think the trailers & promos did a bad job hooking people onto it.

2) the bl genre is now saturated. if cooking crush was released in 2019 or 2020 it would've been huge simply for having offgun's name attached to it. but now there's 100+ bl shows released every year, and statistically only like 5-10% will be a huge success.

3) offgun were never a "viral" ship. off mentioned it himself in an interview, and it's definitely what has kept them together for 8+ years, but it also means they've never had the kind of hype attached to them brightwin, fourthgemini or even kristsingto have had.

4) offgun are the oldest thai bl ship still together, so in this highly saturated bl market where there's a new ship popping up quite literally every week, they're likely seen as old & has-been by many. bc of their age they're also unlikely to touch new younger audiences of bl, which are the most outspoken & passionate types of fans. 14 years old are more likely to stan the 18/19 years old at gmmtv instead of the 30+ grown ass men for sure. also, even if that seems sad & mean to say, in this current bl economy, I feel like fans get tired of seeing the same faces for so long, which is why now the lasting of ships is shorter & shorter and just used to launch a solo career.

5) the marketing. imo the biggest issue is the show in itself that doesn't meet the demands of the bl fandom at the moment (either innovative or at least hypersexual shows, apart for the new ships having basic shows exception that I talked about (and that works only at gmmtv too)), but the marketing could've definitely helped. imo they should've added a lot more fanservice in the trailer to hook the fetishizing fans in if they wanted more viewers. the social media marketing was also quite poor but not the actual worst.

however, even though cooking crush "flopped" in terms of being a gmmtv show & an offgun show, imo it was successful in its own way. it still trended number 1 on X every week if that still means anything, and it was also a very good show. like... not every show can be life-changing, in fact romcoms very rarely are. the show did what it set out to do & was well executed until the end, which for me is a success in itself. so flop? maybe not. success? maybe not either lol.

and yes, off has been talking about babiis sticking with him for 30 more years back in 2019, so we still have a good few decades ahead :) what I do really want to see from offgun is a new innovative show from them bc atp this is the only thing that will be a success (and their age & experience will still likely be a baggage in our hyperconsumerist bl market). I'm even less confident that the trainee will even get as much attention as cooking crush did, so what I want to see is a show where offgun are dads navigating being queer parents, or as I said before a dark psychological thriller. not only could they pull it off, but they would absolutely BODY a more heavy show with more innovative aspects. bc atm cooking crush & the trainee are only catering to their fanbase, gmmtv's & the rare ones who enjoy more basic romcoms. they need something so uncommon & original it will rally the bl fandom behind them, bc sadly atp their name alone will not do it. however, I'm not confident in gmmtv at all, especially since they have 15 other ships they gotta give shows to. the dad show, though? if it ever happens, it NEEDS to be offgun 100000%!!!

xxx

#answers #offgun #cooking crush #cooking crush the series

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fagbearentertainment · 1 year

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Ok last post about this comic (for now)

Obligatory don’t harass the artist, I have nothing against him or this comic. I’m just very autistic about William Aftons character, his downfall, need to rant, and this is basically my fnaf side blog so I’m posting it here lol

This page on its own is actually pretty good character wise like William would definitely say that, he’s self centered enough to think that his victims should just “let it go” and “leave him alone already” because he’s sick of having to suffer, and Cassidy would make deals with him just to change her mind last minute and keep him trapped there bc she fucking hates him (and she canonically does the last part in ucn!) All around some solid lore accurate characterization!

The problem is, however, this is being used to vilify Cassidy. We’re supposed to think she’s being unfair to poor William who has been suffering for soo long, never mind that he killed her when she was what 10 years old? No HE’S the victim here, not the children he killed! If it’s not supposed to be read that way it was NOT made clear enough bc that’s how it seems to be being portrayed to me

Her, completely reasonable, anger at Henry and CC for protecting William later is vilified too, at least that’s how it seems to me. Like William KILLED HER and they’re DEFENDING HIM I’d get their asses too! They fucking deserve it!

Anyway yeah I’m not a fan of this comic. All the ableism and infantilization with CC (the creator of the comic called him an infant who doesn’t know better he’s 10 fucking years old come on 😭😭😭) Cassidy villainization, and William apologism is unbearable.

Also Cassidy’s skin color being so grey and washed out is just… no. None of her other colors are washed out and grey, none of the other ghosts are washed out and grey, I shouldn’t have to explain why this is bad.

Quick edits for a better comparison (note I made this skin tones and edits in like 5 seconds so they could be slightly off)

#might delete this later idk #sorry I’m very passionate about fnaf characters #it’s the tism #not a poll #fnaf #five nights at freddy’s

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scribhneoirtuirseach · 1 year

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I'll Let the Seasons Change My Mind (5/10)

featuring: Mama Mario, Papa Mario, Luigi, Bowser

wordcount: 1361

It's another normal day in Brooklyn.

The streets are lined with brownstones and bustling with energy, blue skies littered with few clouds, and sun shining proudly above it. As close as one can get to Heaven, now that the Mario brothers have found their calling both here and in another world.

The Mario parents on the other hand, well… While they don't entirely understand the situation and what their sons get up to when they're gone, they're happy to hear of their success, so long as they remember to visit once in a while.

They do understand, however, that a now familiar trembling of the city means someone is on the way.

"I'll get food ready!" Mama calls over her shoulder, hands clapping excitedly as she rushes about the kitchen to put something together. "I wonder if they're bringin' that lovely princess again— Now there's a woman with confidence!"

"There's a cocky woman." Her husband argues from where he's been cruelly interrupted standing watching the TV. "Least she's takin' care of 'em."

"Mannaggia!" Mama scolds, checking out of the window and raising her brows at what she sees— Luigi, happily chatting away to Bowser from where he's perched on the King's shoulder. "It's the lizard…"

Papa huffs his confusion at that, making his way over. "We have plenty of lizards, Maria," One look out the window, though, and he's grabbing a pan to throw at the damned thing's head.

Luigi hears the whistle through the air and raises a hand, catching the handle before the impromptu weapon can meet its target. "Hah, must be cleaning out the place…"

Bowser grumbles, unconvinced. Luigi isn't the best liar. "We should go," He decides, eyeing the manhole they've just emerged from. "They don't want me here."

"Hey," The plumber frowns, tucking the pan under his arm so he can gently turn Bowser's head his way again. "I want you here. And it's only for a while— Promise. Then we can go back."

Turning his attention up to the window, he snickers at the sight of Mama holding Papa's ear, very sternly whisper-shouting at him.

"She might give you a chance, see?" Luigi encourages, ruffling that red fur. Sighing, Bowser raises his gaze to follow where his companion's looking, brows knit together tight. "She's the one that really matters, I wouldn't mind too much about Papa. He's, eh…" Grimacing, he makes a so-so gesture with his hand. Not the worst father, but certainly not the best.

"An ass?"

"Just don't say it to his face and you'll be great! You've got this." He winks, before grabbing holding of the pan's handle and waving up towards the window. "Hey-o!"

"Hey-o!" Mama calls in return, very subtly shoving Papa out of view. "I'll bring the food out to you guys, don't fuss yourselves comin' in!" Good choice, until there's an appropriate entrance for Bowser.

Within minutes, they're all gathered around a table outside, Mama and Papa by each other's side and Luigi contentedly settled on Bowser's lap as he splits the offered food between two plates— Mostly fruits and greens, easy to snack on as they approach springtime.

"So," Papa begins, brow raising as he leans back in his chair. "Y'not destroyin' things anymore, eh?"

"Pa!" Luigi hisses, coupled with a light smack on the arm from Mama. "He's workin' on himself! Can't just be asking that…"

Bowser clears his throat, shifting awkwardly. "Kamek has been giving me therapy."

"You hear that? He's going to—" Pausing, Luigi hums as he looks back to the King, impressed. "That's a big move!" That… could have been made a long time ago.

"It's been offered over the years, I've only accepted recently." Bowser admits, head drooping a touch.

"Better late than never, there's always time to improve." Mama nods sagely as she eats. "Our Lou used to be in therapy!"

"That was counselling, Ma. And it was school counselling, way different." Luigi shrugs, waving a hand as he focuses back on their plates and offers the fuller one to his companion. "They're more focused on gettin' you productive again, really, that's all they care about."

Papa snorts. "Stopped all the phone calls home, so they did their job either way!"

"You didn't want to hear about your son?" Bowser asks, slow and purposeful.

Mama and Luigi share a tense glance, but for now, let whatever's about to happen go ahead. Even grown men need to hear the truth sometimes.

Papa splutters at that. "Of course! But not when it's all bad news—"

"So, you'd prefer not to hear of his struggles, and refuse the chance to help him with them as he's growing?" The King corrects himself, nodding. "I understand."

"Agh, he knows he can come to me if anythin's bad!"

"I don't and I didn't." Luigi retorts, gesturing with an unpeeled banana. "The talk with you was always to put my head down and focus on work— I did that, and you know how hard it is to focus when you've got people screamin' in your ears on both sides because you're every teacher's behaviour buffer, Pa?"

Bowser grimaces at the mere thought of such a punishment for being well-behaved. Human life truly isn't as simple as he thought…

"Ma was good, though, Ma said they don't know any better. She was right, they didn't, and that also took the blame off-a me. I couldn't rely on you for anything other than the roof over my head, Pa— And trust me, I'm grateful for that much, but you know…" Luigi shrugs, peeling his banana.

"It takes more to be a father." Bowser finishes for him, arm instinctively coming around Luigi as he watches Papa get up and excuse himself back inside in a huff.

Letting out a whistle, Mama chuckles to herself. That'll be fun to deal with later… "You seem to know a lot about that," She offers as a new conversation starter. "Being a father, I mean."

Bowser manages a smile for the first time since they've sat down. "I have more than a handful of children— I'm not perfect either, but I do my best."

"I didn't know that." Luigi pipes up, though it clearly hasn't put him off judging by how he's grinning up to Bowser. "I know about Junior, of course."

"Then there's Larry, Morton, Wendy, Iggy, Roy, Lemmy, and Ludwig."

"Now that's a variety!" Mama smirks, leaning over the table. "How you gonna deal with them, Lou?"

"Ma!" Luigi whines, rubbing a hand down his face.

"What? It's a valid question if you're gonna be sharin' a life, huh?"

Bowser's quick to step in for that, clearing his throat. "We haven't discussed that yet…"

"Looks like you should be discussing it now." Mama jokes, sitting back again. "I mean, seems like yous are attached at the hip already— And the only other person I've seen defend him like that is his brother… Wouldn't mind having a good lizard for a son-in-law."

"Turtle, Ma."

"Dragon turtle." Bowser further specifies before glancing down to the man, a fond purr rumbling through his chest. "Whatever he wants, I'll give him."

Looking up to meet his eyes, Luigi can't help a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Only you."

"And you already have me."

It's like there's nothing else in the world, just the two of them and their snacks— Until Mama squeals from across the table, hands clapping. "That's that, then!"

Later on, Bowser decides to drop Luigi off in the Mushroom Kingdom— He'll want to talk to Mario after that, no doubt.

"Thank you for bringing me home." Luigi chirps, even if he's a little unenthused about his feet touching the ground again. He really could get used to just being carried everywhere, safe on Bowser's person.

"Not at all." Bowser hums, gently pressing his snout against his cheek for a moment— A sign of affection, Luigi's learned. "About the kids… You don't have to worry about taking on responsibility with them. Like I said, more than a handful."

"I want to try." He reassures, smiling bright. "If there's anything I learned from how I had to grow up, it's that every kid deserves a chance."

#bowuigi #bowuigi fic #my writing #i'll let the seasons change my mind #mama mario #papa mario #luigi mario #bowser #meeting the parents #supportive mama mario #papa mario is still ehh questionable

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batbirdies · 2 months

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Thank you @coyote-nebula and @selkienight60 for the tag!

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

610,258 - the fact that it's over half a million but I've only written 22 fics is... telling lmao.

3. what fandoms do you write for?

currently and for the forseeable future, just Batfam, but I have written for the Hobbit fandom and Marvel in the past. And I think Harry Potter way back in my OC days.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Clearly Calm and Keeping Terrorized in which Jason has a ROUGH time with PTSD and the timing is right to do some relationship healing with the fam. The Penny Drops the Penny Dreads in which Jason is a 12 year old Robin new to the manor and struggling to deal with some unresolved trauma thats not so far behind him. I'll Come Our Right On the Other Side in which Bruce is in therapy and trying to work on his relationships with his kids Overcoming Our Antecedents in which Jason is deaged to the day before he ran away to Ethiopia and Bruce gets to try again Live While I Breathe in which Bruce is badly triggered by an explosion, deals with it badly, is yelled at by Stephanie Brown to get his shit together, and has a a slow internal battle that ends in the decision to go to therapy.

5. do you respond to comments?

Not very often :( I used to reply to all my comments but it just started to be a source of anxiety and to feel overwhelming so i decided to stop unless something just really inspires a response or asks a direct question I can easily answer.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I struggled to think of one for this because I just don't write angsty endings. HOWEVER I do have one from 2014 when I was in the marvel fandom. Seams in which Bucky internalizes the fear surrounding his metal arm. (it's only 500ish words)

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I would say most of my fics have postive endings if not outright "happy". But I would saaaaay probably Overcoming Our Antecedents?

8. do you get hate on fics?

Occasionally I get rude comments, usually complaining about how a certain character is unfairly treated by the narrative. Which always makes me a little insane lol. I try to just delete them.

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't. Never been interested. Probably actively uninsterested lol.

10. do you write crossovers?

I don't, and probaly the same as above lol.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't believe so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! Mengru on AO3 translated multiple of my fics into Chinese.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! Recently with Coyote_Nebula. Tip for a Successful Interview: Lie (down)

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I really don't care about romantic ships, if I'm willing to read a fic that centers around it it's up there lol. But I dearly love platonic ships. Having said that I am terrible at choosing favorites of things. My reading and writing history probably supports Bruce &Jason as my fav platonic relationship but lately I'm also loving Bruce & Clark friendship.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

A Bad Case of the Good 'Ol Days I still really like whats there but the rest of the fic is a mystery to me at this point. I've plotted it like three times at least but it never feels right.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think Dialogue and complicated emotions. I have also been told that I'm good at evoking anxiety in readers lol.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I am VERBOSE I'm very bad at being concise which is clearly reflected in my stack of long ass fics lol. I think I've improved but its definitely still my biggest weakness. I also struggle with any kind of complicated plot. I have a WIP currently that has a deeper plot and it panics me lmao.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think it depends what you're going for. If you want the audience to understand what's being said, you should provide a ready translation that doesn't involve jumping to the end notes and then having to find your way back to the place you were previously reading. Its just really disruptive to the reading experience for me. I have seen people do really cool formatting on AO3 where you can hover over text and see a pre-input translation. Its very cool on desktop but I'm not sure if it works on Mobile. My go to is pretty much always just to state that someone is speaking in a different language and tell the audience what they said. Sometimes I'll italicize it only so the reader doesn't forget that the words are not meant to be in English.

Of course sometimes you don't want the audience to know what is being said and that can be fun, however you do risk some of your readers speaking the language and getting hints other people don't lol. Or google translating it for themselves. So up to the author if they're cool with that or not.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I honestly am not sure. I think I wrote fic for most of the cartoons I watched as a ten year old lol, but I didn't know what fandom was then. Harry Potter if we're getting official.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Still CCAKT at this point I think, but once Penny Drops is finally FINALLY completed it might give it a run for its money.

Sorry I don't have the bandwidth to think of anyone to tag right now, it took me three days to finish filling this out despite the entertainment value 😅 but thanks for the tags and I hope anyone who wants to will do it too, feel free to tag me when you post it if you do :)

#tag game #fic game

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crissiebaby · 1 year

Text

Stepmother Knows Best, Pt. 2

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, humiliation, domination, crossdressing, masturbation/diaper sex, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Anon

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“Soggy Sara! Soggy Sara!”

The cruel chant of a dozen small voices encircled the 10-year-old dressed in a fluffy party dress with a small, yellow puddle growing around her. She squeezed a large, pink teddy bear in her arms for whatever comfort she could get from it. It was her birthday and she had just reached double digits; a momentous achievement for any child. Sadly, her celebration of that accomplishment was dashed when at her birthday party, a little too much fun and a little too much fruit punch led to disastrous results.

Kneeling beneath an unbroken piñata, tears ran down Sara's chubby cheeks as she waited for her mom to rush over and rescue her from this mortifying scene. All the while, the kids who she’d once seen as her closest friends continued to pile humiliation onto her, especially Ryan, who at this time was also only ten. He and Sara had been best friends since the two of them could crawl, and yet, despite their closeness, he still took the opportunity to laugh along with the rest.

Looking around at every kid pointing and laughing at her, Sara began taking a mental revenge list. And at the very top of that list was her dear friend, Ryan.

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*DING DONG!*

Now entering her 20s, Sara had almost completely forgotten about the horrible experience that her tenth birthday turned into. However, that didn’t mean such a traumatic event left her without any scars. Even if she couldn’t remember all the details, she couldn’t stand being made fun of or being laughed at for any reason, something Ryan had found out the hard way through years of continuous, yet sometimes strained friendship. If it wasn’t for the fact that her dad and Ryan’s dad were business partners, she would’ve ditched his lazy ass long before now. At least she wasn’t forced to make googly eyes at him, especially with how obvious it was that he was into her.

Dressed as if she was a mid-2000s punk rock girl who had just discovered Hot Topic, Sara was far removed from her ultra-girly roots. Gone were her days of striving to be a pageant queen, replaced by black clothes and way too much eye shadow. While the transition from fem to goth may have felt natural to Sara, anyone keeping track would’ve seen the dramatic shift in her desire to be feminine happen not long after that birthday party. Not that she ever felt the need to dress up to go to Ryan’s house.

After waiting for almost two minutes, Sara began to grow restless. “Let’s go, Ryan! You knew I was coming over,” she shouted, bringing her fist to the door and slamming it against the hardwood door.

*Click!*

“Heyhey! Sorry about-EEEP!” said Rachel, lurching back in shock as her face came within inches of meeting the business end of Sara’s fist.

Retracting her hand so soon as her fist swung through where the door should be only to see a milfy, middle-aged woman in its place, Sara leaped back after narrowly avoiding knocking the block off her best friend’s stepmom. “Oh, my Goddess! I’m so sorry, uh…Rachel, right?” she said, a bit exasperated.

Laughing off her near-death experience, Rachel nodded. “Yes, Rachel, yes. That’s…me,” she said, her mind still reeling from how close she came to being punched for the first time in her life. Gathering her thoughts as quickly as possible, she knew she needed to get Sara upstairs promptly, “Um…inside…you…ugh! Sorry! Would you like to come inside?”

Chuckingly under her breath at Rachel's word salad, Sara welcomed the arbitrary invitation and stepped inside. “Thanks and sorry again,” she said, making a B-line straight to the living room, discovering that the TV was turned off and Ryan was nowhere to be found, “Hey, where’s Ryan? We were supposed to watch the Chargers game together.”

Sashaying over to Sara in a forced-casual manner, Sara placed an arm around Sara’s shoulder, “Why don’t you join me upstairs for a sec? I’d be happy to show you what Ryan’s been up to.” Ushering Ryan’s lifelong friend upstairs, she placed both hands on Sara’s shoulder in a comforting way. “I will ask that you keep an open mind. Ryan’s going through something of a transformation right now and he needs all the support he can get.”

“Um…okay?” responded Sara, too confused by whatever Rachel and Ryan were doing to even question it. Her confusion only grew as she was led through the master bedroom to a closet door she’d never entered before. Though, as Rachel opened the door, her confusion instantly melted away, replaced by stunned amusement and a slack jaw.

“OW! G-Get off me!” shrieked Ryan, trying and failing to wiggle his head free from Deloris’s grasp. Unfortunately, his neck muscles were nowhere even close to strong enough to shake off an entire person.

With several lengthy extensions in hand that matched Ryan’s hair color almost too perfectly, Deloris continued to stick the strands of fake hair to her subject’s pretty little head. “Oh, pipe down! Girls have to do this stuff all the time,” said Deloris as she clipped another extension into place. Noticing the door opening in her peripheral vision, she looked up and smiled at Rachel and her guest, “Oh, good! You’re back! I went digging through my bags after you left and found a bunch of hair extensions that were too good not to use. You did say you wanted him to have a girlier hairstyle.”

Seeing Sara’s reflection in the mirror, Ryan’s thrashing efforts doubled. “N-NO!! Sara! Don’t look!” he screamed as he felt whatever small chance at a future relationship with his childhood bestie disappear like the sands of time. Having already been doted on enough by his stepmother, bringing his near-lifelong crush into this whole situation was like a wet dream but in reverse…a wet nightmare if you will.

Covering her mouth with her hands, Sara was at a loss for words. Even at the best of times, Ryan wasn’t the most masculine of guys. But even then, she never once pictured him gussied up with big hair and a slathering of make-up. “Wowie, Ryan. That’s uh…quite the look,” she said, struggling to restrain her laughter with every syllable.

“Please! Just make them stop!” begged Ryan, hoping that the arrival of his best friend would bring an end to Rachel and Deloris’s fun, even if it did come at the high cost of letting his crush see him in such a feminized state.

Before Sara could respond in any way, though, Rachel stepped in between them to put a kibosh to any hope of escaping. “Oh, give it up, Ryan. You’re amongst sisters now,” she said, placing her hands on each of Ryan’s shoulders and squeezing them together lovingly. She then turned back to Sara and waved her over, “Don’t let him fool you. He’d been begging me to do this for weeks. If you want proof, just look at the state of his pretty panties.

Rounding the chair to get a better look at Ryan’s full ensemble, Rachel nearly exploded when she saw the dripping tip of Ryan’s penis, which was swaddled in a very damp pair of silky lace panties. “I-I think I see what you mean,” she said, dropping to her knees before rolling over onto her back in hysterics. She wasn’t even aware of it at the time but a deep feeling of catharsis had taken a heavy weight off of her shoulders that she’d long forgotten was there.

“I-It’s not funny!” yelled Ryan, his protests causing the girls’ laughter to raise in volume and intensity. Frustrated beyond a reasonable point, he finally blew up, “FUCK ALL OF YOU! UNTIE ME RIGHT NOW OR I’LL-”

Grabbing both of Ryan’s cheeks with one forceful hand, Rachel was done with Ryan’s vulgar tongue. “You’ll what, Ryan? Run to daddy to tell him what your meanie stepmom did to you? We’ve already gone over how well that’ll go,” she said, reminding Ryan of what’s at stake should the girls decide to leave him tied up in this state. She allowed a wicked smile to curl across her lips as Ryan’s struggling ceased, “Good girl.” She released her grip on his jaw, giving him two light slaps on the cheek as she pulled her hand away.

Taking a knee behind Ryan’s chair, Deloris began untying Ryan’s restraints now that his hair and make-up were in place. “We’ll have to wait to style his hair until his dress is on,” she said, still in command of the technical aspects of Ryan’s sissification. With Ryan’s wrists and ankles fully released, she took him by the hand and forced him to stumble across the walk-in closet on shaky legs, “Come on, Ryan. It’s time to get ready for your big day.”

“B-Big day?” Ryan stuttered as he was moved from his seat at the vanity to an area of the closet with three floor-to-ceiling mirrors organized in a half-hexagon shape.

Bending down by Ryan’s feet, Rachel placed a pair of three-inch high heels on the floor and gently grabbed one of his ankles. “This is going to be a long process, so do your best to hang in there for us, okay? Normally, brides could take breaks when they need to, but you’re such a big, tough man that doing it all in one go shouldn’t be a problem.

BRIDE?! Ryan began to feel faint overhearing the word, “bride,” used on him so casually. They couldn’t do something as embarrassing as making him wear a wedding dress, right?! Tragically, it wasn’t long before that question was answered in the form of a massive, poofy ball of fabric being carried into the walk-in closet, followed by another, and another, until half the room was taken up by five white orbs, each one bigger than the last. He wanted to run, to hide, to fight, anything to get out of this. But between the high heels and the threat of his dad finding out, his feet may as well have been encased in cement.

“Arm’s up, girly,” said Sara, stepping in behind Ryan and pushing his arms up while Rachel and Deloris approached from the other side with one of the puff balls. Before he could even muster the strength to sneak in a final objection, he was sent hurling through a cloud of white fabric. It was only a few seconds but to Ryan, it felt like it took him a hundred years to reach the other side.

Clapping her hands together, Rachel quickly moved to Ryan’s side to allow him the chance to see himself fully. “This dress took me almost four months of labor to complete. Tell me, how does petticoat number one feel? Are all those girlish emotions hitting you yet? You couldn’t stop looking at me on my wedding day, so I assume this must be a dream come true for you,” she said, snickering as she and the other ladies admired the first step of Ryan’s wedding outfit.

Standing in place with the mirrors each reflecting a different angle of him, Ryan’s lip quivered as he caught sight of the massive petticoat that was hugging his lingerie-covered hips. He rotated in place slightly as he struggled to stay on his feet, watching with horror as the petticoat followed his every movement; its soft, heavy fabric swishing back and forth in a display of pure girliness.

As Ryan’s right ankle finally collapsed, he was sent falling to his side, only for Sara to catch him mid-descent. “Hey, now! Can’t have you slack off so soon! You’ve still got three more petticoats and the big dress to go!” she said, enjoying herself immensely as she watched the life drain from Ryan’s eyes.

For the next hour, Rachel, Deloris, and Sara worked in tandem to fix the rest of the fluffy petticoats to Ryan’s body, observing gleefully as the width of his wardrobe quickly ballooned to seven feet in all directions. By the time the final petticoat had been settled into place, he felt like his lower half had been plopped inside of a hollow cupcake.

“Almost done! Time for the big finale!” said Rachel as the girls lifted the outrageously heavy, pink satin wedding dress into the air before tossing it over Ryan like a massive, silky comforter. It took many minutes more to push Ryan’s head and arms through their respective slots before they could twist the fabric into place and smooth out the wrinkles, completing his wedding day attire. For Ryan’s part, it felt akin to being trapped in a washing machine as the swirling fabric assaulted his senses, leaving him very disoriented. By the time his head poked through the top, he was seeing double everything around him.

While the dreadful process of getting the over 20-pound dress over his already bulky outfit may have been, little solace was offered to Ryan’s masculine soul as he stared helplessly at his hyper-feminized reflection. Perhaps the most terrifying thing of all was that he almost couldn’t see himself behind the hair extensions, make-up, and poofy dress. From his perspective, all he saw was a dainty bride waiting for her moment to waltz down the aisle.

As a finishing touch, Deloris made sure to pin his hair up in a perfect bridal bun before placing a stunning, white veil on him to cap off his darling wedding ensemble. Meanwhile, Rachel went searching through the myriad of boxes she had stored in her closet until she came up for air with a bouquet of fake flowers in her hand to add to Ryan’s growing list of accessories. “Honestly, this may have been more fun than getting dressed for my own wedding!” she declared, earning another round of rapturous cackling from her cohorts. Taking Ryan by the hand, Rachel spun the poor boy around in a semi-circle, making sure to give him plenty of support since he didn’t have his sea legs with heels yet.

Rushing up behind the duo, Deloris was quick to grab the back of the wedding dress, holding it up so that it didn’t snag on the carpeted floor too much. “As part of the wedding day package, we’re gonna walk you through your wedding day,” said she as she and Rachel began escorting Ryan across the walk-in closet one step at a time, “Just try to imagine your future wedding day and you’ll find how easy it is to move in all this stuff.

For Ryan’s part, he did his best to keep up with his stepmother and her friend as they inched their way through the closet, stumbling several times thanks to the effect that plush carpet had on high heels. It didn’t help that he was forced to stare at Sara waiting for him at the opposite end of the room much like a groom waiting for his bride would. From the way the silky dress brushed against his arms as they swung to how the wealth of petticoats brushed against his buttery lingerie, it was all too much for him to handle. His face turned redder than a tomato as the damp, sticky panties began to stretch once again to accommodate his reemerging hard-on.

Feeling Ryan’s grip on her hand tighten and hearing a soft whimper under his breath, Rachel had a feeling that she knew exactly what was going on under all those puffy layers. As they neared the end of the walk-in closet, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the remote for the vibrating panties again, rubbing her thumb over the on-button deliciously. “Now Ryan, the biggest thing for a bride to maintain, under any circumstance, is her composure,” she said teasingly as she pressed her thumb down on the button with vigor.

*bzzzzzzzzzzzz!*

“EEEEEEEEP!” yelped Ryan, his knees instantly going weak as his cock was accosted with the pleasurable vibrations that only his lacey panties could provide. Zap off all his strength, he dropped to his knees, creating a mushroom cloud of silk as the dress poofed out around him. Between the buzzing panties and the swaths of satin he was trapped within, he hadn’t even fully settled to the floor before streaks of murky jizz shot from the tip of his cock, through his tight panties, and onto the innermost layer of petticoats.

“Well, so much for keeping a lid on your composure,” said Rachel, encouraging even more laughter at Ryan’s expense. She pushed her way through Ryan’s inflated dress to give him a motherly hug, “How many times has that been today? Two? Three? At this point, we may have to trade those panties of yours out for some pull-ups!”

Lightbulb!

Suddenly, Sara was struck with inspiration. “Hey, guys, I need to head out really quick and grab something. Is it alright if I come back in, say….45 minutes?” she asked with so much unfettered excitement that she was talking a mile a minute.

“Of course! Don’t worry, the fun’s not stopping anytime soon,” said Rachel, her devilish grin sending mixed signals of fear and arousal to Ryan’s fragile and horny male brain. She clicked off his panties, allowing him to relax, if only for a brief moment.

Still reeling from his latest orgasm, Ryan watched as his only hope of salvation disappeared, leaving him alone again with Deloris and Rachel. Not that Sara had been much help up to this point anyway. Viewing her as an option for salvation was mostly wishful thinking on his part.

Helping Ryan back to his feet, Rachel and Deloris guided him back to the center of the closet. They then took their time to posture him so that he could stand on his own two feet without falling down again. “Perfect!” said Deloris, slapping her hands together so loud that it caused Ryan and even Rachel to jump a little in surprise. Pulling out her phone, she quickly switched over to her camera, “You’re going to be a good girl and model for us while we take some lovely photos.”

“Ph-Photos?!” said Ryan, his heart rate accelerating over the prospect of his current appearance becoming immortalized in picture form. He looked at his stepmom, hoping she’d talk some sense into her friend. However, he should’ve known better than to expect empathy from either of them as he watched her pull out a cell phone as well. He wanted to object with all his being but he knew he needed to behave if they were going to help him take all this crap off before his dad got back, “Just p-promise me you won’t post them, okay?”

“We promise, Ryan. Now, go on and give us a smile. It’ll make you look ten times better,” said Rachel, her condescending tone giving Ryan very little hope that she was being honest. Still, it wasn’t like he had the option not to believe her. Gritting his teeth, he obeyed his stepmother’s request and forced a painful smile onto his face.

*SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!*

As soon as they got the arbitrary go-ahead, Rachel and Deloris showed zero restraint as they bombarded Ryan from all sides with snapshot after snapshot to make sure that every last inch of their blushing bride was captured, including crawling up under his dress from some more “candid” photos. Mercifully, after the ladies had their fill of bridal shots, they began to help Ryan out of his dress, giving him hope that he was near the light at the end of the tunnel. He sighed with relief as the petticoats were removed from him one at a time, letting up on the weight that had been pressing down on him. Sadly, what he thought was light turned out to be nothing but a mirage as the girls wheeled out another dress for Ryan to try on, trading out the ballgown wedding dress for a red, skin-tight evening dress.

“I hope you like it, Ryan! This was the dress I wore when I met your dad and it worked exactly how it was designed to. He couldn’t stop drooling over how hot I looked,” said Rachel as she and Delories forced the form-hugging dress over Ryan’s head and slid the stretchy material down his body.

It was all downhill from there as the girls ate up every dress Ryan tried on, gleefully snapping dozens of photos. From cutesy sundresses to leather jumpsuits, he was given a crash course in female attire. For a guy who’d only worn simple male fabrics, every new texture and textile that was placed on him felt like being force-fed the richest foods you’ve ever had in your life non-stop. Unable to process all the feminine feelings that were swarming around him, his body continued to react against his will, causing the panties around his waist to go taut with embarrassing stiffy after embarrassing stiffy and leaving a slime trail behind on the crotch of each outfit he tried on. All the while, he did his best to keep track of the time based on the conversations between Rachel and Deloris, deducing that he only had about an hour before his father came home. If they were going to live up to their promise, then he didn’t have much more torture to live through, allowing him to power through in spite of the neverending shame pageant he’d been made to endure.

“Hey, guys! Sorry, that took me way longer than I expected,” said Sara as she burst through the walk-in closet doors having a waltz right into the house without even knocking, “I’m so, so happy you guys are still at it. I was worried I might be too late.” She set two large tote bags down on the ground and let out an exasperated breath.

Leaving Ryan in the midst of getting changed out of a green, velvet cocktail dress, Rachel and Deloris rushed over to greet Sara, as well as find out what goodies she’d returned with during her outing. Left on his own for the first time since he’d entered the walk-in closet, he was afforded the time to scoff at his own reflection. Never, at any point in his life, did he stop to think about what it would be like to wear women’s clothing. And now that he’d been given a first-hand experience, he was happy the thought never crossed his mind. Why did girls demand the most luxuriously soft and silky fabrics if all of their outfits felt like their body was being mangled inside of them?

And then there was Ryan’s make-up and hair. Thanks to Deloris’s diligent work, his make-up remained perfect throughout each and every wardrobe change. Heck, he could be drenched in sweat in the middle of a torrential downpour and his foundation still wouldn’t run. Whatever crap these Hollywood bigwigs used certainly was the real deal. His hair, meanwhile, had gone through several transformations, from a tight bun for his wedding look to a pair of twin tails for the schoolgirl outfit they’d forced on him; an outfit he could only assume had to be a fetish costume that Rachel wore for his father during intimate bedroom scenes. Presently, his hair and the extensions attached to it had been put into a trendy updo style that one might see genuine model wear in a fashion magazine. It was almost too surreal how a change of hair could feminize someone’s face so much.

“BWAHAHAHAHA! Sara, you are a flipping genius,” screamed Deloris, rolling over onto the floor in a fit of laughter that brought tears to her eyes. Rachel soon joined in as well, unable to continue digging through the bags from how hysterical she became.

Hearing his stepmother and her bestie’s vicious mockery sent chills through Ryan’s entire body.

While his back was turned to the girls, he was vaguely able to see them sifting through the large bags Sara had brought before cackling maniacally over their contents. His heart rate instantly picked up again, knowing deep down that whatever Sara had come back with was certain to be a humiliating endeavor.

TO BE CONTINUED…

PART 1 PART 3

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Edited by AllySmolShork

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