#there is one where benny is short for benjamin though

[cirrates]

almost any b name could be my name there are other worlds out there where im named bartholomew or barnaby. theres not one where im named benedict though.

[nerdieforpedro]

A little mean and a little sweet

Chapter Four of Come Live with Me Angel Series

Benny Miller x Diana (OFC)

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: Benny and Diana work out the tension between them.

Word Count: about 2.2k

Warnings: teasing, dirty talk, an ass slap or two, unprotected p in v, oral sex (female receiving), aftercare, confessions

Notes: This part took a long time. I’m not well versed in writing my characters being teasing or mean. At least not in this manner so let me know what you think in the comments! 😆

Main Masterlist/ Benny Miller Masterlist / Garrett Hedlund Characters Masterlist/ AO3 Link

Miller towers above Diana, he’s caged his arms on either side of her. Looking down, it’s a wonder he hasn’t pounced on her yet after plopping her down on the couch. Benny rushes a great many things but not this, and not today. Diana is reaching up for him and trying to pull him down to her, “Benjamin, you’ve been teasing me for far too long. Let me have you please.” It is a request he wants to honor, he really does, but he can’t. However long Diana thinks he has been taunting him, he believes she’s wrong. Benny’s feels he’s been open with how he feels about her though words aren’t his strong his strong suit.

“Now that’s a lie sweetheart and you know it.” His voice is low and makes her laugh. She highly doubts this, she had no idea that things would turn out this way so quickly. Before she can offer a rebuttal, Benny grabs her wrist and kisses the inside of it. “You’ve had me since we sang ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ and I wouldn’t let go of your hand. I haven’t let go of you since Angel.” Benny uses his nose to trace down Diana’s arm, kissing one part he knows she’s not fond of: the fat on her arm. It’s why she doesn’t often wear sleeveless dresses and depending on how the short sleeves fit, she might not wear those either. Benny could care less or more like accurately, he enjoys her soft frame every time they touch. Diana turns away giggling at the gesture, while he nibbles on it and uses his knees to part her legs. She gasps when his lips reach her neck and he sucks on her skin while her hands lift up the back of his shirt.

“Benjamin, take it off. I want to feel more of you.” His mouth forms a smile that he presses into her neck before pulling back to make eye contact with her.

“It’ll be off when you’re out of this dress Di,” she starts to shimmy her hips so the dress slides up a bit for her to grab it but he clasps his hands around hers, “Not yet Angel. Told you I’m going to see you for myself and that involves taking my time. Not yours. We’ve been on yours with your shorts and shit around the house.” His teeth pull at the front of her dress and pull it down since her straps are so flimsy. Diana’s breasts are exposed and he whistles making her squirm, the air feels cool on her flesh and Benny’s grin goes right between her thighs making her moan.

“Dammit Benny,” he’s not hurting her in his hold, but it’s tight enough to where she can’t get out. Her voice cracks as he flicks one of her nipples with his tongue, keeping his eyes locked with hers she bucks her hips up to try and have some friction to force him to do the same. “You’re just being mean now. Take it into your mouth Miller.” He flicks it again before blowing on it, making it stiffen harder. A quiet fuck leaves Diana’s lips.

“If I was really mean, I’d leave you like this Di. Or maybe only do this.” Benny puts both of Diana’s hands over his head and uses his shirt that he now removed to tie them. He watches as she tries to undo the knot. “Come on Angel, I served with the best of the best. You’re not getting out of that until I want you to.” Two of his fingers sneak under her dress and find the damp spot on the front of he thong. He doesn’t move the fabric aside nor push it in. He just lets his digits rest on top of it while her hips do the work for him, but due to the limited space on the couch, she can only get small rolls going.

“Alright, alright. You’re nice, the sweetest. Benny, please…put at least one finger in.” Diana isn’t above begging. She’s so close and his fingers feel thick, but they're not inside of her and his mouth isn’t on her either. “Don’t you want to feel how wet I am for you Benny? Hear what other sounds me and my body can make for you?” She’s never said this to Benny before, at least outside of time spent with her vibrator. She wants to close her eyes while talking, but knows he’ll just tell her to keep them open. “My kind generous Benjamin, give me a different type of ache.” It feels so embarrassing to say aloud, but her eyes see the bulge in his shorts and she knows she’s on the right track.

Benny doesn’t say anything. He’s only imagined Diana uttering filth to him, but this? “You sure are the cruel one Angel, come here....” He hops to his feet and pulls her up by his shirt that’s still tied around her wrists. He makes a beeline for his bedroom as it has a king side bed. Benny makes sure to flip on all the lights, not giving Diana the option of keeping them off. He pushes her over the edge of the bed so she flops face down and the pulls her to stand, bent over to her ass is facing him. Her violet dress fell back over her hips and he flips it back up. She tries to look back but he uses his palm to slap an ass cheek making it jiggle. “What a view Diana. I’ll give you a little something now.” Her thong is yanked down and his two fingers and on each of her slick pussy lips, opening and closing them to hear and watch them.

“B-Benny you said you were going to give me something. Come on…” Diana’s whine is answered by another snack to her ass and two fingers slipping inside of her. “Fuck yes!” Her moan from his thick fingers is cut short by a strained yelp. She can’t move her hips, Miller is using his free hand to hold her hips in place. “Please….at least move them Benny. Don’t just hold them there…” She buries her face into the mattress to scream. He’s never been this mean, sure she’s been teasing him with her outfits but it doesn’t warrant this kind of pleasure denial does it? “I’m sorry for teasing you. I just…Oohh…” At her admission, Benny behinds loving his fingers slowly, still not allowing her to move her hips.

“You just what Diana? Wanted to make me hard during the day?” His fingers start moving a bit faster and his grip loosens on her hip, allowing her to move partially with his hand. “You could have just told me you wanted me to do this Di, I told you, you’ve got me sweetheart.” When he lets her hips go, he removes his fingers and hand whines again, though this time he turns her over and crouches down, placing her legs on his shoulders. He kisses her inner thigh and licks part of her essence off of it, making sure he’s looking right at her. Diana’s panting and her lips are trembling. “You look beautiful when I make a mess of you.” He wipes her slick off of his two fingers on his bottom lips and swallows it before swirling one finger around her clit. Hearing her call his name, makes him nibble on her thigh and speak directly to her cunt. “You’ll weep just for me. So pretty here too, Angel.” He watches as her core quivers and feels it on his tongue as he dives in.

Diana is grabbing at Benny’s hair, tugging on it as his tongue explores her folds. He’s slurping, drinking from her while grilling her thighs. It feels like he might bruise her and they’ll be sore. She welcomes the feeling, and jerks her hips toward his glistening face. She’s twisting to try and aid his tongue exploring everywhere it can. He’s muttering something into her damp void but Diana registers nothing except her own moans and Benny’s skill with his tongue. Suddenly, she’s trying to push him away, pressure building but it feels different than her orgasm normally does, so much more forceful. Diana’s scared that she might pass gas or something even more embarrassing, but Miller’s nails are digging into her thighs from how he’s trying to keep her in place. “Please! Fuck Benny, let me go something’s co-“ There’s a gush and a scream from Diana’s mouth while Benny laps at her drenched sex with even more fervor than before. Her heels are digging into the mattress and when her body relaxes. His tongue finally begins to slow.

He gets a few more flicks of his tongue in before finally rising from between her legs. “You alright Angel?” He watches as Diana’s breasts rise and fall with each breath and nips at the skin on her lower belly, jiggling it to get a rise out of her. He knows she hates it when anyone touches the part of her stomach that hangs down. Weakly, she swats at his hand, “Well you’re still with me then. Why were you scared Di?”

“I dunno what the hell you did. That was way too intense Benny. Is there anything past an orgasm?” Diana sucks her teeth as she hears Benny laugh and position himself between her legs, this time on his knees. She looks down and sees his bobbing dick leaking with precum. Propping herself up on her shoulders, and making eye contact with him he dips his head to place his thumb on her chin and pulls it down for her to open her mouth. “Your face…d-did I? Lord let me wipe-”

“Ya ain’t wiping shit Diana. You’ll taste yourself. I made you squirt honey.” The same tongue that had just had her spasming tasted slightly tangy but mixed with his saliva had her groan into his mouth, her hands were back in his hair and the idea of needing to dry his face off was gone. Benny’s hands are on her breasts kneading them while he guides his swollen shaft along her folds, making her spread her legs wide again. Their lips part as each of them catch their breath. “Diana, I’m going in now. That alright?”

She nods and lowers one of her hands to guide the head of his cock into her awaiting hole, the stretch from having him inside of her makes her tense up. Benny strokes her cheek and moves her hand from her lower lips to his shoulder. He’s only a third of the way in when he stops and she pinches him. “It’s fine. Keep going, you just have to work me open is all Ben.” Diana plants a kiss on his chest and neck. He doesn’t stop again and sinks himself the rest of the way in until their hips meet. “You make me so full Benny. Move when you’re ready.”

“How do you know just what to say Diana?” With his hands drifting down the sides of her body, Benny firmly grabs her hips and begins a slow pace with deep strokes, pulling nearly all the way out and diving back in fully while he watches Diana throw her head back into the mattress, calling his name. Her tongue pokes out past her bottom lip and Benny leans forward to suck on it, changing the angle at which his cock hitting her walls. She gasps and scratches his chest, mouthing a soundless ‘sorry’ as he feels her tighten around his shaft. It’s then that Benny decides to move faster with Diana winds both arms around his back, it felt like she might fly away. That’s the last thing she wants, she needs to stay present as he’s making her come again. Her moans match Benny’s grunts as he continues increasing his pace, only letting his thrusts get but so shallow.

“B-Benny, it’s…you too…come too.” He’s trying to hold on a bit longer, he doesn’t want to yet. He’d rather keep going until he passes out with his dick still inside of her, but Benny figures he can give her this. He wants to, needs to.

“I will but I need to pull-“ Diana’s legs keep Benny firmly against her while the rolls of his hips become more erratic. He understands what she’s doing and doesn’t question it, though he’ll have some later. Her heat quivers around Benny’s cock before clamping down on him, milking him while he spills into her, marking her form himself. It’s here that Benny decides this won’t be the only time. He remains within her until he’s completely soft and even then, only slips out when he feels her shiver.

They both get out of the bed, though Diana needed help to the bathroom and get cleaned up. She bends down with a grimace upon seeing her dress and thong on the floor to pick them up and make her way back to her room. Benny wraps his arms around her waist. “Come back to bed Angel, unless you’re dead set on sleeping by yourself.”

“Okay.” Is all she says as she drops her clothes once more and slips under the covers with Miller, her mind racing. They’ve finally done it and said so many things to one another. She still has her own room, how do things go from here?

Peeps that might enjoy: @gwendibleywrites @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @tinytinymenace

@musings-of-a-rose @laurfilijames @yorksgirl @guelyury

Chapter Three Chapter Five

[pleasuretrade]

hi here's the very rough(!) first chapter of a fic that i'm not done with.

if anyone wants to beta or just offer feedback i would be grateful :') but i'm writing this very slowly and don't plan on seeing it done for at least a few more months

March x Healy

Summary: 1980. March and Healy take your classic "reunite me with my estranged adult child" case and may or may not wind up getting involved with a cult, irritating 80's toys, shady business, gardening, and drugs. Oh, and they're pretending to be boyfriends because that's totally a perfect cover??

Rating: 18+ for the eventual porn

Length: I'm gonna guess 30k? I'm at 15k rn and we're maybe halfway through. frankly i got no idea

Tags that aren't exhaustive and mostly aren't applicable to this first chapter, but just a sneak peek: pretending to be boyfriends and there's only one fucking bed anyway bitch, March wearing jeans

 The thing about kitsch dolls was that they were supposed to be cute. In abundance they became disturbing. An uncanny noise of soft pastel abstraction, dotted with innumerable eyes, staring at you from living room walls and display cabinets. It didn’t help that almost all of them were religious; angels with halos, praying children, robed biblical figures. March felt like he might combust if he made direct eye contact with the teeming mass of holy ceramic.

“March, did you write that down?”

 Holland whipped his head toward Healy, and then at their client, and then at his open, empty notepad. See, you shouldn’t have that many dolls in one room, it’s distracting. It’s weird. “Sorry, ma’am, could you repeat that?”

“Benjamin Larry Hooper. We called him Benny.”

“Bejamin….L… Hooper… Benny.” March mumbled, pen dashing across the page with a show of gumption.

 Mrs. Hooper nodded at him, all patterned dress and curled hair, hands placed politely on top of their respective thighs. “He was fifteen when he left, he’ll be twenty-six now. Tall for his age, I’m sure he’s giant by now.”

 Holland wrote in big block letters: DOB 1953 TALL

“This is my most recent picture of him, just a few months before he left.” Mrs. Hooper, Francis, reached across her doilied coffee table to hand Healy a framed photograph. It was obviously some kind of family reunion, the photo lined with folks like a tin of sardines. “That’s Benny.” she said, tapping a young man sitting cross legged in the very front row.

 Benny Hooper looked like any other fifteen year old at a family reunion, irritated or bored or both. He had a great mop of hair, a downright halo of pitch black curls reaching every direction. The slacks and short sleeved button-down were probably not his normal choice of attire, so that wouldn’t be helpful even if the kid had disappeared less than a decade ago. The shot was too wide to memorize the details of someone’s face on top of being old. The Benny in the photo hadn’t even finished puberty yet. Overall, the photo wasn’t great.

“Very helpful, thank you. We could use any other photographs you have, too.” Healy smiled pleasantly the way he did. It was freakish, the way the guy could go from deadpan bruiser to soft-eyed teddybear in an instant.

 Holland smiled along, ignoring the everpresent eyes of Mrs. Hooper's kitsch, even though he knew that there was no chance in hell they were finding Benny Hooper.

-

 “There’s no chance in hell, man.” March lit his cigarette in the passenger seat and donned his sunglasses.

 Healy tapped his fingers where he rested his arm in the open window. “We have a lead.”

“If you wanna call maybe seeing a glimpse of someone you haven’t seen in eleven years driving a truck a couple of times a lead, sure, we have a great lead. Can we stop at Hammy’s? Told Holly I’d bring home dinner.”

“Y’know, I bet I could count on two hands the number of times you’ve gone proper grocery shopping since I’ve known you.”

“That’s not true, you went grocery shopping with us like two weeks ago.”

“And you bought eggs, bread, a gallon of neon colored juice, a gallon of whiskey, and five frozen pizzas.”

“Are those not groceries? Is that not sustenance?” March waved his cigarette for emphasis.

“Anyway,” Healy redirected, taking the turn toward Hammy’s, “all we have to do is stake out the spot she saw the truck, right?”

“If everything worked out just that easy we’d be out of a job, Jack.” March took a drag from his cigarette, thanking the stars that loaded, aging ladies were willing to shill out for the most unfeasible asks imaginable time and time again. Healy let it sit because he knew it was true by now, well over two years down the line as a PI.

“Why do you think the kid really left?” Healy asked after a while, expertly flat when Holland had figured out eons ago that the guy really was invested in each case, even the small ones.

“I don’t know, too many doilies? An aversion to puce colored carpet? I wouldn’t stay long either.”

 Healy ignored him. “I find it hard to believe he just up and left for no reason.”

“Maybe Mrs. Hooper’s chicken is dry.” Healy purposefully hit the curb pulling into Hammy’s, jostling March’s cigarette nearly out of his hand. “I mean, it’s not like it matters. Even if we find the kid, he’s not comin’ back. Ten fuckin’ years. Remember that girl, Arrow or Rainbow or whatever she named herself?”

 Healy grunted in reluctant remembrance. They’d found her after a long, boring two months and by the end of it all she’d had to say was ‘thanks for letting me know my family's looking for me, you can go now.’ Not that it mattered much to Holland. They made out with enough money to take a couple of weeks off so they could take Holly to Catalina Island. She got food poisoning on the first day but still claims it was the best trip they’d been on in years (which wasn’t very meaningful considering they’d gone on maybe three of them since she was little).

“Guess you’re right.” Healy parked the car in the crowded parking lot. The line at Hammy’s was always so damn long. “Not getting paid to psychoanalyze the guy.” He sounded reluctant. Any time Healy couldn’t slip in one more act of Good it made him feel like a failure. It was something March secretly admired, however harebrained it was. He glanced a punch off Healy’s shoulder before getting out of the car. “That’s the spirit.”

-

“So why do you think he really left?” Holly asked through a mouthful of burger.

“Jesus, you two should become shrinks.” March grumbled.

 Healy sat comfortably sunken into the couch, a March sitting cross legged on the floor on either side of him. “It might be useful to know.” he added.

“Right. Like maybe you’ll be able to narrow down what kinds of places he’d go if you knew.” Holly agreed.

“Our only lead is a truck. Anyone can drive a truck. I don’t care why he’s driving it. All we have to do is follow.”

“So you admit, it’s a lead.” Healy pointed at him with a french fry.

“It’s a crumb of a lead. It’s the suggestion of a lead. It’s a lingering scent of maybe a lead.”

“Says the guy with no sense of smell.” Healy winked at Holly, who bit her lip to stop her smile from blooming. “A lead’s a lead.”

“Did you notice anything about Mrs. Hooper’s house? Like, anything that might make someone want to run away?” Holly was fifteen and already putting in more work than March.

“Yeah, puce carpet.”

 Healy nudged March with a socked foot. “She seemed nice. Boring, maybe. Said her husband died a few years ago and her other kid’s off at college somewhere, so the house was pretty quiet.”

“Boredom could drive someone away.” Holly said thoughtfully.

“And if it did that still gives us absolutely nothing to go on. Some kids just hate their parents, alright? Guy probably just hitchhiked to New York or something.” March said.

“Sounds nice.” Holly murmured under her breath. Healy nudged her with his other foot.

 March, begrudgingly, loved the gentle way Healy mediated. Fatherhood was something Holland hadn’t really been prepared for, much less being the single dad of a teenager. It didn’t help that he was a big time fuckup or that Holly was too smart for her own good. Having another person in their lives— having Healy in their lives— was a saving grace.

 Recently, Holly had started dating her first boyfriend. Or at least the first that she’d admitted to when she’d lost all plausible deniability after that time they’d picked her up from school and seen her drop some young punk’s hand like a hot iron. It was a point of contention now, between Holly and Holland. Boys were pigs, and Holland would know, he used to be one. It was one of the endless number of things Healy had become referee over, but also something Holly had adopted a near constant attitude because of.

“So when are you starting the stakeout?” Holly asked, fiddling with the cracked straw of her milkshake. March looked at Healy for an answer. He was always better at managing their schedule. Unlike March, he usually remembered what day of the week it was. Healy looked back at him and shrugged. Wasn't like they had another case on, much to the dismay of their wallets. “Tomorrow, I guess.”

 Holly got that look on her face. “Can I come?” Tomorrow was a Saturday.

 March shook his head. “Don’t you have normal teenage things to do? Shouldn’t you be like sneaking vodka out of someone’s mom’s cabinet on a Saturday?”

 Healy chimed in before she could argue. “It’s gonna be boring anyway, Holl. You’ll be sitting in the backseat twiddling your thumbs all day.” She knew that. She’d been on stakeouts with them before. But Healy’s say was more valuable to her than her dad’s, apparently, so she dropped it.

 It was late when Healy headed home, agreeing on the asscrack of dawn to reconvene and start their stakeout.

“Why doesn’t he just live here? You guys spend every day together anyway.”

 March wandered into the dimly lit kitchen for a glass of rye. Their (second) rental, real house unbuilt as ever, was always so still when Healy left. Another item on the laundry list of things March tried not to think about. “Because he’s a grown man, Holly, with his own house.”

“I wouldn’t call that dump a house, and anyway it’s an apartment. He should be sleeping here and not in an attic with a laughtrack that plays until two in the morning.”

“Well then you can invite him to stay for a sleepover next time. You guys can paint nails and read magazines.” Holland wasn’t stupid. He knew that wasn’t really what girls’ sleepovers were like. One time he’d walked in on Holly and her friend eating donuts and saying such depraved things about Joe Strummer that he’d vowed to not open the door without knocking ever again. He never looked at that Clash poster on her wall the same way.

 Holly scoffed in time with the ice tinkling into Holland’s tumbler.

-

 The sun shone way too brightly for Holland. When he’d woken up he’d still been a little drunk, but now out of the house and into Healy’s car a hangover had eagerly seeped in. They’d agreed to start the stakeout before the sun came up, but March had skillfully convinced Healy to take him through a drive-thru breakfast and they were running late. He now nursed a coffee as the sun rose into the perfectly wrong spot in the sky. They watched cars zip lazily by from the corner of a parking lot.

“I just think it would be good to have a dog around.” They’d had this discussion every other day for a month now. March wanted a dog in the house for the very logical reason of alerting them to intruders, Healy nay-sayed because he was a killjoy with no imagination.

“I’m telling you, March, putting in a doggy door just isn’t gonna be enough for a German Shepherd. And we all know you’re not gonna walk it.”

“Why do you even care so much, man? It would be my dog.” And more importantly, why did Healy even have a say in whether or not they got a dog?

“I care because I’d somehow get stuck taking it out half the time. And your sorry ass wouldn’t train it. We’d have an untrained, overpriced menace tearing around the house.” The house. Not Holland and Holly’s house, but The House.

“Well, whatever, even if that was true it’d make a good guard dog, right? No one’s getting past a pent up, feral German Shepherd. Might shit on the carpet but it’ll take a guy’s dick off. Balls too.”

“You should really consider a shrink. I think you’ve lost your damn mind.” Healy shook his head, but Holland caught his smile.

“You taking new patients, doc? I’ve been told by my teenager that I’m a headcase.”

“I could make some room in my busy schedule. Gonna cost you about the same as a purebred German Shepherd, though.”

 March smiled and leaned back into his seat. Absolutely nothing of interest was happening outside at all, which was just fine now but give March three or so more hours and he’d start going stir crazy and the headache wasn't helping.

 Mrs. Hooper had seen the truck twice, once in the morning and once in the early evening, which gave them an unfortunately broad window of time. She’d described it as a white, short cab semitruck, maybe a GMC, with a small trailer on it, which narrowed it down almost not at all. It sounded like every third short haul semi chugging around Los Angeles, of which there were many. Very many.

 The only thing they had to go off of was that the second time around she’d seen what she thought was some kind of blocky hand-lettering on the driver’s side door, done in “nearly illegible” multicolor. When Healy had asked what she meant by “multicolor” Mrs. Hooper had only elaborated as “horribly garish.” So at least there was that.

 The odds that the guy driving the bespoke truck was this Benny person were essentially zero. That was about half their cases these days, desperate longshots funded by desperate rich people. The other half was still taking photographs of idiots who fuck with the curtains open. It was wearing a little thin. Couldn't people invent more important problems to investigate? Whatever. A job’s a job’s a job.

 The coffee in March’s cup had gone cold just in time to meet the creeping heat from outside. He downed the tepid sludge before wrenching the little metal fan out of the back seat and plugging it in. It whirred to life gracelessly.

“Hey.” Healy tapped him on the arm, which startled and excited Holland enough that he flung his empty coffee cup onto the floorboards.

“What—what, you see something?”

 A short cab semi puttered toward them from a distance, aiming for a perfectly timed red light. Healy pulled up the binoculars and squinted through them, waiting for the cab to pull into view enough to see the driver’s door. March’s breathing was shallow in anticipation.

 The truck moved, and Healy tutted, and March could see the glaringly blank door even without the binoculars. “Driver’s blonde. Ginger beard.” Healy said, still staring through the eye pieces like the truck and driver might magically change. “False alarm.”

“They’re all gonna be false alarms. This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack, only the needle was never in the haystack to begin with.”

 Finally, Healy let the binoculars fall into his lap. “I ever told you how much I love your optimism?”

[sequinsmile-x]

In a Sky Full of Stars, I Think I See You

She could live like this, in their quiet, ordinary lives, sitting snuggled with him on this porch swing with their children asleep nearby for 100 years and it would never be enough. 

Emily reflects on her life with Aaron.

-x-

Hi friends,

I sat down at my laptop after work today because I wanted to write, but I had no idea what I wanted to write. This is what came out of that...I hope you like it!

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

When they bought this house, she’d fallen in love with the porch. 

It was one of her favourite parts of their home, the place where she loved to sit as often as she could, the busy world slowing down around her as she settled into the peace she’d only ever found at home. She’d sit here most nights for a little while once the kids were all in bed, settled and safe and warm as they slept, their house a place of safety for all of them. 

It had become a tradition of sorts ever since she was pregnant with Violet. She’d felt drawn to the porch swing in a way she couldn’t explain, sitting there most nights as she enjoyed the peace, her hand pressed against her belly as she felt her baby move. Aaron would find her out here even on the coldest evenings, staring at the sunset or the stars in the sky. He’d bring her hot chocolate and wrap a blanket around the two of them, keeping her warm as she told him about constellations. 

She’d sat out here when Violet was a newborn, the little girl wrapped up warm and snuggled against her chest as she whispered how much she loved her against her soft, dark hair. She’d done the same thing when Benjamin came along, and she’d still bring him out here some nights now, the movement of the swing soothing the six-month-old to sleep when all else failed. 

She hears the door behind her open and she smiles when she turns to see her husband standing there, the baby monitor in his hands as he walks back over to the swing. 

“Is he okay?” She asks unwrapping the blanket from around her shoulders so he could sneak back in underneath it, his arms pulling her closer on instinct, something she knows he doesn’t even have to think about. 

“He’s fine,” he says, kissing her forehead as he settles back down next to her, “He looked pissed it was me who went to check on him,” he adds, smiling against her skin, “But he fell back to sleep pretty quickly.” 

She hums and rests her head on his shoulder, “He definitely got your frown,” she says, tilting her head to look at him, “Violet too.” 

He smiles at her, “Well, given they are both carbon copies of you I’m glad they got something from me.” 

She leans up to kiss him, his lips warm and soft against hers before she pulls back, “Speaking of Violet, she got her fingers trapped in the swing earlier,” she says, blowing out a breath at the memory of how the three-year-old had screamed out, how she’d been inconsolable until Emily kissed her fingers better and wrapped Spiderman bandaids around them even though her skin wasn’t broken. 

“I’ll put some wood in the frame to keep it still,” he says, frowning at the thought of his daughter being hurt, “I guess we can’t be too careful when our kids are as adventurous as they are.” 

She chuckles and nods, “That’s true. We’ll be screwed when Benny starts walking.” 

It was strange to think how much her life had changed in such a relatively short period of time. In just over five years she’d gone from being in Paris, alone and afraid Ian would pop out of any shadow, to being here with a family. It felt like a lifetime had passed and yet no time at all, and now she couldn’t imagine her life without Aaron and the children. Most of the time she was grateful that she’d found what she once told herself she’d never have, but sometimes,  it made her sad she’d only found this type of happiness so late in her life. That 40 years had passed before she got the happy ending she never thought she’d get to have 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

She looks up at him, unaware that she’d drifted off into silence, and she smiles softly at the concern on his face. He loved her in a way she would have once told herself wasn’t real, the stuff of books she’d read when she was younger, and she loved him in the same way. She could live like this, in their quiet, ordinary lives, sitting snuggled with him on this porch swing with their children asleep nearby for 100 years and it would never be enough. 

“Do you ever wish we hadn’t wasted so much time?” She asks, not even aware she was going to ask it until she has, “I think about it sometimes,” she says, smiling sadly, “What would have happened if we’d got together earlier.” 

It was no secret they’d both been in love with each other for years before they got together. It seemed obvious now looking back on it. How desperate she’d been to find him after Foyet had attacked him, how she’d looked after him afterwards and helped him settle Jack back into his father’s home, a life without his mother. Aaron had been the same - showing his love in other ways when he had no idea what name to give how he felt about her. He’d yelled at an Attorney General for her when she was in danger, he’d called The Vatican for her. Clyde had told her that Aaron had threatened him if anything ever happened to her, a confession he made at their wedding, a glint in his eye as he got as serious as he ever did when he told her he was happy for her. 

She loved their life but she’d always want more of it, always be desperate for more time with him and their kids. 

He sucks in a breath as he considers what she’s said. He couldn’t say he’d never thought the same thing. That he’d never looked at her as she danced around the kitchen with the kids, Violet dancing on Jack’s feet as Benjamin sat on Emily’s hip, and wished he could have more of this. It made him feel greedy sometimes, that what he had would never be enough, but he knew it was normal. He knows even if he’d kissed Emily the first time he thought about it, the ink on his divorce papers barely dry, the extra few years wouldn’t have been all he needed or wanted.

“Yes,” he says honestly, tucking some hair behind her ear before he runs his knuckles down her jaw, “I do think about it sometimes,” he smiles softly as he cups her neck, “But I like to think everything worked out exactly like it should have.”

She scrunches her nose up at him, “You don’t believe in fate.” 

“No,” he chuckles, “No I don’t. We both went through a lot and fought for what we have now. I believe in us not fate,” he says, and she blushes, his endless affection for her always enough to warm her from the inside out, “I had all the trouble with Foyet, and then Ian came back. Who knows what would have happened if we’d been together then?” 

She hums softly as she thinks about it. She looked back and wishes she could have been there for Aaron as his partner when Haley died, that she could have pulled up the weeds of guilt and self-loathing that had planted deep in his gut when he had no one around to tell him it wasn’t his fault. The flowers of it had been left to bloom for so long that even now she had to remind him he wasn’t to blame, something she’d remind him for as long as she needed to.

On the other hand, she’s grateful he and Jack hadn’t been hers when Ian was after her. They would have been in even more danger than they already had been, easy pawns in Ian’s game as he tore her life to pieces. She thinks she would have actually died for them, her grave as real as her love for them, and then she wouldn’t have what she had now. She wouldn’t have them, or Violet and Benjamin or the house. She would just be a memory to them, not a wife and a mother. 

“I guess you’re right,” she says, smiling at him as she rests her head back on his shoulder, “I don’t think I’ll ever stop wishing for more time with you.” 

He pulls her impossibly closer, his arms tight around her as she ends up in his lap, “I’ll never stop wishing for more time with you either.” 

They both frown as the door to the porch opens and they turn to see Violet standing there, her favourite teddy hanging from her hand and her hair a mess. 

“Mama? Daddy” Violet says, her eyes bleary, “I had a bad dream.” 

“Oh, Vi,” Emily sighs sympathetically and opens her arms up, making room in between her and Aaron for the little girl, “Come over here, sweet girl, it’s cold and you aren’t wearing anything on your feet.” 

Violet runs the short distance across the porch and climbs into Emily’s lap, snuggling against both of her parents the moment she’s wrapped up in the blanket with them. Aaron makes sure he’s got a decent hold on his girls and frowns, thinking of the stairgates they have inside. 

“How did you get downstairs princess?” He asks gently tugging at one of her now loose braids to get her attention. 

She shrugs at him, “I opened the gates.” 

His eyes widen and he looks at Emily over their daughter's head and mouths at her so Violet doesn’t hear, “She’s all you.” 

Emily sticks her tongue out at him and then turns her attention back to Violet, “Do want to tell us about your bad dream?” She asks, and Violet shakes her head, pressing her forehead into Emily’s neck, “What do you want, honey?” She asks and Violet shrugs, her tiny fingers fiddling with Emily’s necklace, tangling in the fine chain. 

“Mommy was about to tell me about the stars,” he says, nodding towards the sky, and Emily raises an eyebrow at him and he winks at her. 

Violet looks up at her, wonder shining in her eyes, “Talk about stars, Mama.” 

Emily sighs and shakes her head at them both before she turns to look at the sky, “Okay, well you can’t always see a whole lot in the city because of all the lights,” she says, smiling as she feels Violet settle back against her. She scans the night sky for a few moments before she sees her favourite constellation, faint but just about visible, and she points at it, “That one over there is Hercules.” 

“Like the cartoon,” Violet says, settling deeper into her side, clearly already sleepy now she is warm and in the safety of her parent's embrace.

“Yes, baby,” Emily replies, sharing a smile with her husband briefly, “Like the cartoon. It represents strength and courage,” she can practically feel Aaron’s stare burning into her skin, can feel how he holds her a little closer, but she keeps looking ahead, sure if she made eye contact with him she’d get emotional. Driven to it by the conversation they’d had and the beauty of being able to sit here with her husband and daughter and look at the stars together, “I used to look at it when I lived in Paris before I had you.” 

Aaron holds her closer, knowing that comment, the veiled history behind it, was for him, not their little girl. He looks down and sees Violet is asleep, her eyes closed and her cheek squished against Emily’s chest. 

“She’s asleep.” 

Emily tilts her head to look down at her daughter and chuckles lightly, “I’ll never fail to be amazed by her ability to just fall asleep like that,” she says, smiling at him, “If only she’d done it when she was newborn.”

Aaron laughs and leans in to kiss her, careful not to disturb Violet and risk waking her back up. When he pulls back he runs his thumb back and forth over Emily’s cheek, “Want to stay out here for a little while?” 

She nods and rests her head on his shoulder, adjusting her hold on Violet, “Yeah, let's stay out here.” 

-x-

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[shocked-collar]

Voicemail

self-indulgent fic describing my personal favorite scene between my BTD fan-babies...... without context cause this is for me and i dont think anyone else will be reading OOPS SORRY!

----------

The sound of sneakers thumping against the pavement and tapping on a phone screen are the only sounds for what seems like miles. Again and again he has tried to call that fox for help, listening to the line ring, and ring, and ring, and go to voicemail. A habit of his he's promised to break, but... promises can be broken as easily as bones these days. After the fifth appearance of the voicemail the phone was frustratingly stowed away into the mans back pocket, putting all further energy into his escape, since apparently he has no backup.

Panicked eyes of German and ████████ descent take a chance to look backwards down the way he came, noting a thin, slow-moving figure following calmly behind from a distance. His heart shot through his chest and he continued to sprint, frantically glancing to the first, the second, the third chance he had to duck into cover down a short alley entrance. He was surprised to see it reached far and wide from the inside- perfect!

The man picked a random direction and took it, finding some old scraps and garbage cans to nestle in between. This is where his sniffles are attempted to be calmed, glancing down in both sick-fright and horror, seeing his hand painted in red. He couldn't look for long.

This is Benjamin. Or, affectionately, Benny. The spawn of something evil, nurtured into something delicate. Delicate in a world where delicate is not allowed to exist. Delicate in a world where sins of the father can manifest in a way such as this.

A beautiful thing- that's the person following him. Kveta, no last name needed. She isn't under the same conditions of 'sins of the father', because she is the sin. Though, she'd like to believe she's more of the consequence... A little thing left all alone in a world so cruel and brash, a little thing left without extended arms to lift her from the waters, and she's seen not another pair since they were brutally torn from her years ago. The only thing she remembers? 'I'm going out.', 'I'm meeting a friend.', and a picture; a picture of some... cute cat person, or something.

She has nothing against Benny. In fact, she feels terrible for him. The look on his face, the sound he made... it's heart-breaking. But this is the only punishment suitable for the crime in her mind. Whoever that fucking thing is, who she is now comfortable titling Ren, or Fox, took the only person who ever loved her far away from this world. She doesn't hate Benny. She likes him, actually. But she can't imagine a world in which that animal is loved by anyone but his son.

So here we are. A slow-burn, silent face-to-face. Fucker's fast, she didn't account for that- but she got a good two blows with her concealed screwdriver, made two deep wounds he is now struggling to ease.

Benny holds his breath as he hears the scraping of shoes. She's close... The fear was paralyzing! He's never been in a situation like this, or even many situations involving pain or blood at all! As ironic as it is, despite his size advantage over her, if he were to jump her, though he could overpower her, he doesn't have the slightest idea of how to or where to start! The seed of B3G_CRY doesn't have a violent bone in his fucking body!!! He audibly winced, looking down to examine his wounds.

He's got a hole straight through his left hand and a much more severe pierce on the lower left on his stomach. He can't remember which one came first, he can't remember a lot- this is a lot. Paying closer attention to his side, Benny released a pained whimper while raising his hand from the wound, watching all the blood spill over. There's so much blood... There's..

...The footsteps are gone.

Benny's eyes shot up just in time to make direct contact with those pretty green ones, being unable to scoot-and-crawl away before she lunged through the trash cans. Loud bangs as metal went tumbling, loud cries as Benny tried avoiding further harm, and silence as Kveta forced herself to move. Like a shot, she felt the flesh tear as she stabbed the younger man once again, hearing him howl at the new wound on his back. Her other hand gripped his clothes to keep him close, taking another shot- luckily missing this time.

"Hold still!!"

"Ple'gh-! Please, Veta, please!"

"HOLD STILL!!"

They were struggling. It happened in a blind flash, it happened so fast- he didn't even mean to! Next thing he knew, Kveta was stumbling back holding her bloody nose. He kicked her... He kicked her in the face, and in some crazy, mental-conditioning kind of way, he felt bad. For a moment, he felt bad. ...He took this chance to flee.

Quickly but weakly his tired limbs carried him to his feet, once again picking a random direction in this long, confusing maze of alleys and garbage. His hand, the one without the hole, retrieved his phone once again, shaking beyond belief as he tried that foxes number again. His fathers number again. The first number that should pick up. ...And never does.

Voicemail tone. Again.

He tried again.

Voicemail.

He's whimpering, and panting, and things are getting bad. Benny looked behind himself, and though he didn't see Kveta, he saw the trail below his feet leading her straight to him. Slipping through an alley that leads back to the main road and out of the maze, a wave of blur and nausea hit him, feeling like the world is tilting as he fought to stay on his feet, feeling like something invisible was pulling or guiding him. Benny wasn't even sure of the noises he was releasing. He was just... groaning, moaning as he stumbled through the empty streets, going to no particular place. Just somewhere safe.

That's not for a few miles.

Panic was reignited in him as, from somewhere behind him, he heard activity. He tried running, but it was messy and sloppy and weak. He glanced to his phone and tried calling again- voicemail. Was it immediate? Did it have time to ring? Benny can't remember. He tried again.

He turned his eyes to the floor just in time to see a shadow approaching his own.

Voicemail.

[gethellbcnt-m]

BENNY FACTS IN UR FACE !!

♦ his full name is Benjamin Dominique, but he goes by Benny for short !

♦ bro has 2 dads! their names are Faison and Flynn, and they're loosely based on [ clone ] JFK's dads from the TV series Clone High.

♦ did i mention his singing va is is Ted Leo, specifically from his performance as Steg from SU ? because it is.

♦ he works as a male consort ; not quite a sugar baby service, though clients can request such services as well as particular outfits for him to wear from the company. Benny makes a good amount of money in this business, as he's desensitised to the descrimination towards succubi individuals and takes great pride in his appearance and physical prowess.

♦ plays slice of life gacha games for fun, could probably play games professionally if benny didn't hate rescheduling around his workout routines, which he hasn't changed for nearly 2 decades.

♦ his favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry cheesecake, his favorite candy is fireball jawbreakers, and his preferred drink is a mango/banana smoothie !

♦ gets up at 6am everyday and takes an hour to do his hair/skincare/makeup after doing 2 hours of excersizing.

♦ prefers to sleep in just boxers, but will often wear a full set ; both are always made of silk because he likes the way they feel against his skin.

♦ used to be in a band where he played bass and wore his hair past his shoulders, but they broke up due to differences between the drummer and main singer/guitarist. Benny still has his bass displayed in his home, sitting in his living room next to his old amps.

♦ has a moderately-sized aquarium filled with a number of fancy-pants goldfish. Benny used to have a bigger tank, but when he left the nest and found his own place he had to split up his fish and has left half of them in the care of his fathers. his favorite type of goldfish are the Moor Goldfish, and one of them has a pattern that gives them Angry Eyebrows that Benny is particularly fond of.

♦ in relation to the above tidbit, one of the few topics that Benny is incredibly knowledgable about are pet and wild fish -- not to be cofused or related to Loan Sharks, as that is a type of sentient, intelligent people.

[orangeboulevard]

In the process of writing a Winx AU/rewrite where Bloom is actually a guy because why not? Anywhoo, feel free to leave some ideas or critiques in the comments! I'm always open to feedback.

Title: 𝘼𝙡𝙞𝙨 𝙑𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙩 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙞𝙨 (Winx Genderbend AU)

Blurb: "There are no male fairies. Magical scholars state it so. Magical scholars also state that all descendants of the monarchy of Domino have been eradicated. The scholars are wrong on both measures."

(potential) Pairings: Bloom/Stella, Bloom/Sky

Current Chapters: 7/?

Here's the link to my AO3 and below is chapter one, I hope you enjoy reading!

Chapter One: A Strange Summer Afternoon

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"Benjamin Darren Peters, you are late for school!" The shrill exclamation of his mother reverberated throughout his room. 

The teenager darted up from his bed, became tangled in his sheets and fell to the ground with a thump- a myriad of expletives left his mouth. He hastily performed his morning routine, his fiery red hair was dripping wet as he scrambled out of the bathroom. His eyes swept over a bundle of clothes on his floor- he pulled on the cleanest-smelling t-shirt and his baggy jeans.

He fastened his studded belt as he hurried past his mother in the hallway, "Mom, my alarm didn't go off! I swear I wasn't trying- wait..." 

When allowing himself to think, Ben recalled that school was officially out for the summer. "Mom!" he groaned, running a hand through his messy hair, "that's not funny." 

"Benjamin, it's two in the afternoon, you needed to get up," his mother tutted, her lips then forming a cheeky smile, "and it was funny." 

"You're a bully." 

"And you're a scruff," She straightened his shirt and fixed his hair, she looked behind him, "And clean your room, it's like a crime scene." 

"Yeah, yeah..." Ben sighed and followed his mother downstairs into the kitchen, where his father was sitting. 

"Oh, sleeping beauty is up," his father laughed over his newspaper.

"Ha ha, very funny," the teenager sarcastically replied as he sat down.

"Oh, and Benjamin, I want you to help your mother in the shop starting next week since you're doing nothing." 

Ben withheld a groan and simply nodded, he looked sadly into his bowl of cereal.

"Don't pout, love," his mother stroked his cheek, "You should take Kiko for a walk, that rabbit is getting increasingly agitated at being couped up all day." 

Ben turned his head to see the little bunny glaring ferociously at him, "Jesus- okay, yeah. Testy little rodent." 

Kiko launched himself at him.

"OW!" 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

His father and mother followed him outside the small house, informing him that they'd gotten him a gift. Ben grinned and excitedly hustled outside, though his excitement fizzled out upon seeing the simple bicycle.

"So, what do you think?" his father asked with a bright grin.

Ben didn't have the heart to shatter his old man's happy mood, instead, the boy smiled and hugged his parents, "It's great, thank you." 

"See, Vanessa! He's fine." 

"Only because he doesn't want to upset you, go on, love, we'll see you later."

Ben seated Kiko inside the attached compartment and rode away, evading traffic and pedestrians. Stopping at a junction, he idly gazed at the surroundings- unfortunately, he made eye contact with Martin. 

"Hey, Benny! Nice wheels," the dark-haired boy remarked snidely, "Could you be any more of a loser?" 

"Maybe, if I drew inspiration from you," he whispered.

"What was that?" 

"Just how kind you are, you truly are a gift to society," Ben stated with absolutely no sincerity, he dodged the can that was hurled at him, waved goodbye and crossed the intersection. 

In a short time, Ben reached the local park. He propped his bike against a tree and snacked on an apple as Kiko played in the surrounding grass and flowers. Not even two minutes later, the bunny came running back, screaming. 

"What the- Kiko, are you hurt?" Ben scooped him up and held the shaking animal to his chest.

Deciding against his better judgment, Ben curiously wandered forward: looking for the cause of Kiko's distress. What he did not expect to find was a winged woman swinging a staff at... What even were those? Ben couldn't restrain the gasp that left him. The strange bug-like amalgamations were attacking the woman. 

Had he stumbled upon a recording for a TV show or film? He couldn't see any filming equipment or teams. 

"Solar Wind!" the woman -he could now tell was about his age- shrieked and slammed her staff onto the ground. A sizeable bright force knocked the creatures away.

... Was he high? He had to be because there was no logical explanation for what he was witnessing. 

A darker figure emerged from the shadows, it towered over the (wizard? Witch? Unicorn?) girl. Ben knew it couldn't be human. It was wrong, its skin, its features, its build; everything about it sent alarm bells ringing in Ben's mind.

It roared and backhanded the girl, she crashed into the ground with a pained yelp. 

Ben placed Kiko down.

"Ghoulies, hold her!" Surprisingly, the beast spoke English.  

The (mechanical?) critters restrained the girl. Before the beast could grab her discarded staff, however, a heavy branch was broken over it's head.

It turned around to see Ben, who held the other end of the branch.

"Hi." 

It growled. Ben took several steps back, tripped over his jeans and fell. It ran forward with impressive speed. Ben could hear his rapid heartbeat in his ears. He lifted his hand, attempting pitifully to stop what was about to come. 

A surge escaped from his hand. The beast collapsed backwards, and wailed, clutching a burn mark. Some of the critters had scuttled forward, crawling up his body and clawing at him. 

With a terrified exclamation from Ben, they disintegrated.

"Wow! Powerful!" a cheery voice commented, Ben looked up to see the girl beaming down at him. He squinted, he was sure that she was actually glowing. 

She readied her staff upon the remaining monsters; evaporating a few of the critters and further injuring the beast. One of the weird bugs bit at Ben's leg, he tried to shake it off and eventually it ran- not without tearing his favourite jeans.

"We'll meet again, blondie." 

With a flash, the monsters were gone.

"Thank the Gods, they're gone at last," the girl sighed, she tried to walk over to Ben but, midstep, she seemed to be overtaken by exhaustion. Ben caught her and gently placed the blonde girl on the ground. Her wings had disappeared, a crown formed upon her head and her (admittedly stunning) outfit had transformed into a longer formal robe.

"Uh... Hello? Hey, you okay?" Ben glanced at Kiko, who was sitting anxiously at the girl's side, "What should I do? I can't take her to a hospital if she is... Whatever she is. They would most likely send her to a psychiatric ward." 

Kiko just stared at him. 

"Mom and Dad will know what to do."

[melodygatesauthor]

Benny miller with #7 romantic pretty please I think some Benny fluff is required

Home Safe

bbf!Benny Miller X f!Reader

Nonnie CONGRATULATIONS, you are the FIRST fluff request haha, I'm excited for this. I went with my bbf (brother's best friend) Benny. You are Santiago Garcia's little (adopted to stay all race inclusive) sister and you and Benny have been seeing each other in secret for a little while. - Prompt: “Call me when you get home, so I know you’re safe.”

Tags/Warnings: SFW, soft!Benny, bbf!Benny, reader is Santi's younger adopted sister, age gap (reader is 22, Benny is 35), fluff, cute shit

Word Count: 743

Benny groaned and shifted underneath you as the movie you were watching on Netlfix concluded. You sat up, looking over at him while he leaned forward and clicked off the television with the remote and then turned to look at you. It was hard to hide your downturned expression. Saying goodbye was always a heartbreaking ordeal with him. Sometimes you didn’t know when you’d get to see him again.

“It’s almost eleven. Santi’s going to lose his shit if you aren’t home in time.” He said, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your fingers.

“He’s not my dad.” You reminded Benny, as though he’d forgotten.

“He worries about you though. He cares about you.” He shrugged, “it’s better than not having anyone sweetheart.”

You pulled your hand away and stood up, “you’re starting to sound like you don’t want me here.”

“Honey.” Benny was fast to get up and wrap his large arms around you from behind.

He put his chin on your head and kept his hands around your waist. You giggled when his lips tickled the soft skin of your neck. You spun around, looking deeply into his eyes. He kissed you gently.

“I would love nothing more than to have you here every single day for the rest of our lives, but you and I both know…now isn’t the time.” He pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“I know.” You kissed him again before walking over to the entryway where your coat and shoes were.

“You’re still upset.” He said in a cold tone.

You both loved and hated that Benny could tell when you were still irritated about something. On one hand, you wanted to be able to hide your feelings sometimes. Sometimes you didn’t feel like you necessarily needed to talk about what was bothering you, but other times, it felt good to know that he knew you so well.

You spun around, “yes, and I’ll remain upset until we find a way to talk to Santi. I miss you all the time.”

“Alright…” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket. You watched in awe as he pressed a few buttons and held it to his ear.

“Benny no!” You shouted, grabbing it from him.

“Hello?” You heard Santi on the other line.

You froze, handing it back to Benjamin “shit eating grin” Miller.

“Hey man, how’s it going?” Benny asked, making a kissy face at you.

“You called me, Ben. Everything ok? It’s late man.”

“Yeah I was just…” He looked over at you. You were shaking your head and running your hand vertically across your throat telling him no. “I was just wondering what you had going on tomorrow, was thinking about getting everyone together to go bowling or something.”

You let out a sigh of relief.

“So you called at almost eleven at night to ask about bowling tomorrow?”

“You know, I didn’t realize it was that late. My bad…so…wanna go?” Benny shrugged at you, to which you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah sure, I’ll see if…wants to join us.” You were excited when Santi mentioned your name, meaning you would get to see Benny tomorrow.

“Alright cool, night!” Benny hung up before Santi could respond.

You shook your head in disbelief, “I’m leaving.”

Benny gave you a soft smirk and a peck on the lips, “call me when you get home, so I know you’re safe.”

“Fine.” You agreed before giving him one more kiss and leaving the house.

When you got home, a short ten minute drive from Benny’s, Santi was in the kitchen getting a glass of water. He smiled at you.

“How was Chelsea?” He asked, gulping down some of his glass.

You shrugged, “she’s fine.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You knew instinctively that it was Benny, but you couldn’t look yet.

“Benny called, wants to go bowling tomorrow. You have any plans?”

“No, I’d love to go bowling.” You gave him a half-hearted smile.

“Alright cool.” He put the glass in the sink.

You went to your room after that and lay down in your bed. When you opened your phone you had a sweet text from Benny. He sent a picture with a kissy face.

Benny: I love you, let’s not rush things and mess it up ok? We will tell him when the time is right. We have our whole lives to figure it out. You: I love you too Benny.

Melody's Birthday Celebration

Masterlist

[dameronscopilot]

I notice you're on a jealousy streak lately. So... what about our Benny Boy getting jealous?

(SAY LESSSSSSSSSSSS are you trying to kill me. )

Jealous Benny Miller (NSFW)

Benjamin "Benny" Miller x f!reader

Benny knows you're his. He really does. He knows you love him more than anything, and he knows without a shadow of doubt that some day—sooner, rather than later—he's going to marry you.

But for all that you can never take your eyes off of him, and for all that you proudly flaunt the fact that he's your boyfriend to anyone that'll listen, he still gets a bit jealous from time to time.

And while you'd normally agree that festering jealousy is a recipe for disaster, the way Benny expresses his feelings happens to be mutually beneficial.

Extremely mutual beneficial.

Content: NSFW 18+, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie, sex in the ocean lol, semi-public sex, oral sex, rimming, anal sex, anal fingering

Although he's taught you plenty at home, occasionally you like to join in on the self defense classes that Benny teaches at the gym, hopping in right alongside his participants. Sometimes you'll find yourself paired up with an overly friendly male partner who takes things a bit too far in an attempt to give you a hands on demonstration of the moves that Benny is showing at the front of the room. At that point, Benny likes to gracefully cut in, running his hands along your body in a borderline indecent way as he demonstrates the proper move (followed by a cheerful, "By the way, everyone, this is my girlfriend!")

(Afterward, once the session has ended, and you're both tired and sweating, Benny will pull you into a shower stall, not even bothering to strip off your clothes. As your nipples begin to stiffen under the thin, slick fabric of your sports bra, he'll push a hand up your soaking wet shorts and push them aside as he pulls out his throbbing cock and begins to slide it through your folds.)

Going to the beach with Benny and the boys is all fun and games until you're left alone sun bathing on a towel as they make their way into the water with a football. And okay, Benny shouldn't be surprised by now that your supple breasts and ass tend to attract more than a few lingering gazes once you're no longer flanked by four men. But when the staring turns to unwelcome conversation (he can tell by the tilt of your sunglasses when you're not pleased), he'll make his way back across the sand to flop down on the towel beside you, scaring off whatever chatterbox was standing near you.

(When gentle kisses along your collarbone turn to hungry ones up your neck as his hand gropes for your ass, Frankie's usually the first to yell at you both to get a goddamn room. And if Benny takes that as his cue to scoop you up into his arms and take off running toward the lapping waves with you, well...nobody needs to know that he's plunging his cock inside of you underwater as you hold onto his shoulders and wrap your legs around his waist.)

Backyard barbeques in the summer are Benny's weakness, mainly because of your tendency to show up to them wearing short, flowy sundresses. Even as the two of you drift in and out of various conversations, Benny's eyes never fail to find you, taking in the way the hem of the dress flits against the backs of your thighs and the way there's always a generous, scooping neckline leading to your breasts.

(And though he'd never make a scene when Santiago's cousins or Frankie's buddies from work try chatting you up with hopes that maybe you've parted ways with the younger Miller brother, Benny likes to sidle up next to you with a large hand protectively wrapped around your waist, his mouth turned upward in a grin as he silently lets the men know that, no, it's not fucking happening.)

(Instead, when you find yourself alone in the kitchen, bent over in the fridge looking for a drink, Benny will come up behind you, his hard shaft pressing against your ass. And you'll discreetly disappear off to the bathroom, where he'll pull down the straps of your dress and lavish your breasts with his lips and tongue. Then he'll turn you around and bend you over the sink, bunching up your dress as he pulls down your underwear and begins to lick his way into your entrance. And afterward, once he's filled your cunt to the brim with cum, he'll pull your underwear back up and give you a suggestive look in the mirror, wondering if you'll feel daring enough that day to try walking back out into the party with his seed threatening to leak down your thighs.)

The first time you let Benny fuck you in the ass was one night after a drunk guy at a bar went on a borderline monologue about how great it looked in the shorts you were wearing. Benny shrugged it off, slapping your ass gently for good measure and going so far as to wink at the guy. But later that night, Benny was like a man starved as he spread your cheeks apart and ran his tongue along your tight, puffy ring of muscle. After easing your hole open with his spit-soaked fingers, he buried his cock in your ass and fucked you into the mattress.

(And he cheekily muttered, "Mine," as he squeezed your cheeks gently after dumping hot ropes of cum inside of your tight channel.)

--

» BENNY MILLER MASTERLIST

[oncasette]

𝗝����𝗦𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗜𝗘

frankie morales x fem!reader

summary: 1.3k.

He’s watched you drip conversation like honey and he watches as you keep him separated at an arm’s distance. He watches as the dying sun casts a tangerine glow over your warmed skin, the way your ballet slipper nails pitter patter against the armrest, and the way his brain is practically purring at the sight of you in his t-shirt. 

or the one where frankie finds himself face to face with feelings he’s finally ready to share while waist deep in the lake of benny’s summer cabin. 

warnings: none, not beta’d

notes: my first fic here! it’s short n sweet but i’m super excited to start sharing my writing with y’all!!

masterlist | taglist

The first summer you’d stayed at the house had been the boy’s fifth. Benny had decided, as your self-declared brother, to drag you along fresh off your college graduation. Quite literally shoving you into your bedroom to pack with your gown still on, fresh off graduation. 

The house was barely big enough for the five of you with three bedrooms and, thankfully, you’d been given–forced, really–into the master bedroom without a roomie. God Bless, Benjamin Miller and his decidedly very nice lake house and disastrously comfortable king size bed. 

It was that summer you met Frankie Morales. Of course, you met the other two that summer as well, barely having met Will in passing one morning at Benny’s apartment, but meeting Frankie was different. 

He’d actually been the one that insisted you get the master bedroom, even taking the liberty of taking your duffel bag upstairs and placing it on the–once again, very fabulous–bed. He was quieter than the other guys, for the most part. You decided that was probably for the best, though. You’re not sure how much of his voice you’d be able to handle in large quantities. 

He was always the first one in the kitchen, even if he wasn’t the first one up, and he made breakfast for whoever managed to get up before ten at least once a week. He was your designated grocery store buddy, despite how much he’d initially grumbled about it, and he designated himself as the fire man, both in gathering firewood and maintaining it while it burned. More importantly, you found him becoming your best friend over the course of that summer and the ones that followed. 

Now, his fingers glide across the top of the murky lake water with ease, just barely breaking through the tension to submerge the tips in the green-brown water. He watches–no, more senses–you from where you sit on the makeshift beach, in that off-white plastic chair he’s sure he’d broken three summers ago. The same one that Benny had scrounged up from beneath the back porch and was, surprisingly, in one piece and just needed a good spray down from the hose. He watches you sit there, not really his, not really not. 

He’s watched you drip conversation like honey and he watches as you keep him separated at an arm’s distance. He watches as the dying sun casts a tangerine glow over your warmed skin, the way your ballet slipper nails pitter patter against the armrest, and the way his brain is practically purring at the sight of you in his t-shirt. 

You smile, barely catching his eyes from where they’re hidden under that godforsaken baseball cap he’s always got on. You think the only time you’d ever seen it off his head was when he fell asleep on your sofa that one afternoon, and even then it’d been tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. You wish he’d take it off more, run his fingers through the curls, maybe even let you do it for a change. 

“Join me?” he hears himself ask through the numbness of his eardrums. You nod, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth in a half-assed attempt to hide the smile quirking at the corners of your mouth as you tug the thin material of his worn t-shirt over your head, the one he’d been forced to wear for the entirety of your first summer at this lake house for a reason none of you are really sure of–although, you’re certain Pope had something to do with it. It was sporting a fairly nasty tear in the left armpit, but his scent had woven itself into the fabric, and you really couldn’t bring yourself to care as you tossed it over the head of your chair as you made your way down to the water. 

He can see the chill of the water overtake you as you toe your way towards him in the two-piece bikini he’d prayed you hadn’t brought along. Not because he didn't like it. Obviously not. Obviously he loved it, and the fact that he found himself admitting that, even just to himself, belied the heart of the issue. 

“I don’t see how you stand it out here,” you snicker with chattering teeth, catching yourself tucking your head beneath his chin. 

“Allows me to think,” he hums in response. His hands find themselves on your waist, brushing over the goosebumps with calloused palms. 

“That’s no good,” you chuff, poking his chest with the pad of your finger, just below his collarbone. You almost allow yourself to wonder what it would feel like if it was your lips instead. 

Usually he would’ve said something smart back, something tiny and miniscule and stupid that you would’ve forgotten within the hour, but he’s distracted himself with the way your skin feels against his. Sure, you’d been close before, touched knees, wrists, but never something like this. And certainly not with this little clothing. 

“What’s up, Fish?” you push with the lack of his response. He isn’t sure why he’s decided to tell you now, or why it feels as if he doesn’t tell you now his heart will stop beating, or why his head is tilting lower and lower despite the way his brain is screaming at him to stop. 

“Can I tell you something?” He busies himself with the strap of your bathing suit top, tugging, but not hard enough to risk the tie coming undone. Your jaw drops in an attempt to respond but you’re cut off before you can even push out enough air to whisper. “And can you not say anything until I’m done? I don’t think I’m ever gonna get it out if I don’t say it right now.” 

You nod, urging him on when the vibration of his speech stalls. His pulse flutters against her touch, against the feel of her skin, the whisper of her lips. 

“I think…” his breath hitched. How could he tell her this? How could he tell her this? How could he stand here and tell her that the sun doesn’t rise in the morning without her smile, how she’s the reason he even agreed to keep coming on these trips after that first summer, how he hears her voice every night in his dreams, whether he wants to or not? How could he allow himself to push the yearning out of his throat and tell her? 

“Spit it out,” you finally sigh. 

“I’m in love with you,” he sputters, eyes flickering back and forth between your overly-dilated pupils from where you’d pulled back from his chest. His grip remained, though, tightening on your hips from where he can hear the way you choke on your breath, the way your tongue rolls over the backs of your teeth. 

“Fish–”

“No-that’s not how-” he groans. He wasn’t supposed to have spit it out like that. He was supposed to say more, describe how he felt maybe, now he’d just scared you off. “I think I’ve been in love with you since you walked through that door, for fuck’s sake, and you can reject me all you want, I just needed you to know.” 

Your fingers trail up his exposed skin until they’re cupping his cheek, brushing across the patch in his beard. He swears his breathing stops completely. 

“You gonna let me talk now?” you say finally as he hums in response. 

The late May sky had melted into a thick goop of orange opsicle at that point and he wanted nothing more than to take a picture of the way it's reflecting off the murky water and into your eyes. 

“Now, before you go all rambly on me again,” you inhale shakily. Your cheeks are flushed, maybe from the sun. Maybe from him. Like cherry pie, he notes. “After Benny quite literally threw me into his truck bed and dragged me up here that first summer, I didn’t think he’d be able to convince me to come back the next year, let alone every summer after that. But coming here brought me to you, Frankie. We live six hours away from this damn cabin. Why would I come out all this way if I didn’t love you, too?”

He doesn’t even elect to respond, instead choosing to slant his mouth over yours. 

[foli-vora]

more than words, pt.3

A/N: Thank you for all the love! 🥺🥰 overwhelmed by the reaction I’ve had to this story! Super excited that so many of you are coming along for the ride! There is a tag list for this—let me know if you’d like to be added! (I apologise if I’ve missed anyone!) I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, general first date nerves that trigger my anxiety x10

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+

He was trying to listen. He really was, but God, how many times can you hear the same thing over and over and over again before you start to drift away from the conversation? He knew the answer. He had a very short attention span when it came to certain subjects – he’ll admit that freely – so when you continued to gush about his best friend, his main man, naturally his attention fell to the couple seemingly having an argument by their truck in the parking lot. Hmm… wonder what they’re fighting about? He purses his lips, watching the girl deliver one hell of a slap across her boyfriend’s face and strut away, tears streaking mascara down her face. Cheater. Definitely a cheater.

“Benny? Are you even listening to me?”

His eyes roll back to you, taking in your narrowed eyes and angry chewing as a slice of pizza dangles from your hand. Was he listening? Well, he did for the first few minutes… does that still count?

He finally answers, tone flat and uninterested. “No.”

“Ben.”

He shrugs, gesturing to the scene outside the window with a flick of his head. “Malibu barbie just smacked the shit out of her beau.”

Your head snaps to where he was looking, shamelessly curious. “Cheater?”

“That’s my bet.”

You both fall quiet, watching the strangers play out a scene that really should belong in a cringe-worthy daytime reality show while you chew. It’s almost depressing, how eagerly you both watch someone else’s life seemingly crumble in public. But the longer they scream and cry, the longer they yell and fight, the harder it is to tear your eyes away.

“Shit.” Benny sighs, reclining in the booth and stretching his arms up and behind him once the couple in conflict goes their separate ways. “That was the most interesting thing that happened to me all week.”

“Not me,” you sing with a smile, fondly remembering the phone calls and texts you had been sharing with Frankie the past few days. Benny sighs in irritation, neck cracking as he rolls his head on his shoulders.

“I swear, if you talk any more about Fish, I’m gonna throw myself out of this fuckin’ window.” He levels you with a challenging stare, lips twitching as you eye the glass critically. “I’ll do it, too. Try me.”

Deflating, you sag in your seat and fiddle with the peeling label on your beer bottle, realising with a wave of slight shame that you had been talking about Frankie ever since you sat down at the table. “I’m sorry, Benny. I’m just excited. He seems really cool, and nice, and –”

“Alright then.” He stands abruptly, kneeling on the worn leather to brace a shoulder against the glass panel with a look of severe concentration.

“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry – sit down, you idiot!” Laughing loudly, you tug at his shirt until he sits with a lazy grin and you shake your head. “God, you are such a child, Benjamin.”

He snorts, pinching a cold fry from the basket in the middle of the table and waving it at you. “You love me.”

Grinning, you snatch it from his fingers, and chew it loudly, grinning at his pout. “I sure do, especially when you set me up with your gorgeous fri–”

He groans loudly, “Enough, woman. I’ll throw you out of this fuckin’ window in a minute. Get me another beer.”

-

“You’re callin’ the wrong friend, angel.” Benny drawls lazily, “I’m no good with these kinds of pep talks.”

“Benny, I’m freaking out, please –”

The car feels small, cramped. The open windows letting in the cool evening air does nothing for you trying to suck in a lungful of oxygen as you pull nervously at your jacket. Have you overdressed? Underdressed? What would he be wearing? You hadn’t been on a first date in months.

“Look, I can almost guarantee you he’s somewhere having this exact conversation with another friend of mine. You’re both stress heads. Just relax – he’s gonna love you.”

You stare vacantly at your steering wheel, swallowing around the lump of anxiety stuck in your throat. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

He snorts in amusement, “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it now – puking on the poor guy isn’t a first date thing. And don’t forget to rinse your mouth out.”

Leave it to the younger Miller to make you feel ten times worse. “Oh God. Ben –”

“You’ll be fine. Now get out of your car.”

“But –”

“Get. Out. of your car.” He waits, listening intently to the mechanical whirr of your windows as they close, smiling when he hears the loud thump of your car door shutting. “There we go. Now breathe, and get marchin’ – you got this. And don’t call me again – I’m watching a fight. Pay per view isn’t cheap.”

“Right. Sorry. Thanks Benny.”

“Anytime, angel. Have fun.”

You ring your hands as you start walking the short distance to the bar, running through a last-minute check of your appearance. Nothing in your teeth. No stains on your clothes. You fidget with the hem of your skirt, brushing the non-existent dirt from the fabric and making sure it’s not horrifically tucked in to your underwear at the back.

Oh God, your palms are so sweaty. What if he shakes your hand? His hand will slide right off. He’d be mortified. Who even goes for a handshake on a first date anyways? You’re being silly. Everything’s fine. You look great. Did you put deodorant on?

The twisting of your stomach and panicked rush of thoughts thankfully pause when your eyes catch Frankie standing outside the bar, hands buried deep in his pockets and dark eyes flickering around at the passers-by somewhat nervously. When they land on you, the apprehension seems to melt from his shoulders and he grins. Unable to stop the smile creeping on your face in response, you now walk without the sick feeling of anxiety creeping up your throat.

He strides forward to greet you, and for a brief second, you wonder how you should greet him. It’s not like you were strangers, per se, you had been talking on the phone all week, but where did you stand in the physical sense? Certainly not a handshake.

Throwing caution to the wind, you bounce forward and greet him with a hug, hoping to high heaven he doesn’t push you away and call the whole thing off.

He doesn’t.

Inwardly screaming, you melt at the feeling of a pair of strong arms winding around your waist, a small quiet chuckle brushing past your ear. Oh shit, oh fuck… he smells divine.

“Hi,” you mutter shyly when you pull away, a flush of warmth flooding through you from top to toe when he smiles kindly and hovers only a step away.

“Hi,”

You can’t help but admire his features up close; the ones that were lost on the photo Ben had shown you when first trying to convince you into this arrangement. His eyes were a lot darker, tousled curls longer than they had looked when they were hidden under a well-loved hat. A light flush of pink sweeps up his neck and along his cheeks, and you watch it fondly with a wild flutter of your heart.

Okay, you could just stand here all night and stare at him, but that might freak him out a little… maybe try speaking. Talk. Just talk. Say something smart – something stimulating. First date impressions and all that.

“It’s fucking freezing.”

What? No. You did not just say that. Seriously? That’s what had to bubble from your mouth? Are you kidding?

You want to face palm, want to just turn around and march right back to your car with a text to Benny saying ‘thanks, but we can’t be friends anymore’ and just disappear from the face of the Earth. God, he’s going to give you so much shit for this.

Thankfully though, Frankie doesn’t seem bothered by your blurted out statement in the slightest, and even grins, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, it is.” He watches you shift on your feet, smile widening just a little more at the look of complete horror that had just washed your features before he had spoken, and then half turns, “Shall we?” Oh God, what was that? Pope’s gonna kill him. You’ve got his head in a complete spin and now he’s forgotten Pope’s whole pep talk. Shit. Shit. Be cool. Be cool... what the fuck does ‘be cool’ even mean?

The bar’s warm when you both walk in side by side, Frankie’s hand placed softly on your lower back as he leads you to the bar, and then through to a spare table, nestled out of the way and tucked into the farthest corner after he buys your drinks. He lets you sit first, and you’re pleasantly surprised when he stays close and, instead of sitting opposite you, he sits to your right, knees bumping yours softly under the table.

It’s not until you both sit, quiet and fiddling with your beers while sharing nervous smiles, that you remember something you had been meaning to ask all day.

“Oh. How did Mena’s appointment go?” You ask immediately, recalling his slight worry the day before over her slightly warmer than normal forehead and uncharacteristic crankiness. Your stomach plummets when he shoots you a startled look.

Oh no… have you blown it? Were you not meant to ask about kids on the first date or something? What were the rules for this kind of thing? You’d never dated someone with a baby, you had no idea what was okay to ask and what wasn’t. You guys had literally only just sat down, and here you were, ruining it already. That’s got to be the quickest end to a date, well… ever.

Panic creases your features and you frown in worry, “Sorry, should I – should I not have said anything? I’m sorry, I’ve never –”

“No, no – you’re fine! I just… I didn’t expect you to remember.” And then he smiles. Blindingly. The dread crushing your chest quickly morphs into something sweeter, something that has your heart quickening. “She’s okay – she’s getting her molars. Thank you for asking.”

You smile, turning bashful under the pure admiration shining in his eyes, and shrug lightly.

“It’s alright. I was worried for you.” You’re quiet when you admit it, unsure if that’s something you should be upfront about with only knowing him for such a short period, but he seems to take it in stride, smiling fondly at you and reaching a hand to cover yours softly. The immediate heat from his skin encompasses yours, shooting wave after wave of electric tingles up your arm and straight to your chest.

If your pulse was racing before, it’s downright wild now.

He flushes when your fingers part ever so slightly, letting his nestle in between yours, and then you’re smiling at each other, laughing quietly as the awkwardness all but evaporates.

You talk about everything. Growing up, moving around, Frankie’s time in the military being a pilot. You have so many questions, but pick up on the wave of tension that rolls through him at the mention of flying. For a short moment, you wonder why he didn’t want to talk about such an achievement – being a pilot was incredible, but not wanting to ruin the easy-going atmosphere that had fallen over you both, you leave the topic of flying instantly, and switch for talking about Mena, thankful to see the light return immediately to his eyes as he gushes about his little girl.

“Can I ask a question?” You ask sometime later in the evening, now comfortably closer to Frankie as your legs tangle under the table.

He hums, sipping on his third beer and nodding, “Of course.”

You watch your fingers play with his on the table, before grinning up at him slyly, “Why ‘Catfish’?”

He groans, throwing his head back with a chuckle, and wipes a hand across his face.

“My whiskers.” He finally admits with a playfully defeated sigh. When you frown in confusion, his grin widens, and he scratches his fingers along his jaw and through the patch of facial hair. “The guys used to give me shit because I can’t grow much more than this.” He gestures to his face, rolling his eyes. “Used to say I had whiskers – like a catfish, apparently.” He chuckles, shrugging light heartedly. “It just seemed to stick after a while.”

You’re laughing, and it keeps the smile planted firmly on his face. What a sound.

“Well, it’s an interesting nickname, but I think I prefer Frankie.”

He softens, unable to resist melting closer to you, and nods, “Me too.”

He likes the way you say it… sweetly, softly. He’s desperate to hear it fall from your lips more, in all sorts of ways.

Disappointment floods you both when you notice the late hour, Frankie explaining dejectedly that he should probably go and relieve his babysitter before said babysitter gets too comfortable with his refrigerator and the beer in there. You can hear the fondness in his voice when he tells you about his sitter for the evening, Mena’s tío – another close friend of Benny’s apparently – as you leave the bar, his hand automatically falling to tangle with yours.

“I’m this way,” you point a thumb over your shoulder, fully expecting to say your goodbyes outside the brightly lit bar, but frowning in slight confusion when he merely nods and starts to walk the way to your car.

“Oh – are you parked over here, too?”

He shakes his head, pointing to the complete opposite direction. “No, I’m over there. I don’t want you to walk to your car alone.”

Your insides turn to jelly, smiling to yourself as you grip his hand a little tighter. Thoughtful. He returns your smile, but hates that you seem so surprised by the notion of being walked to your car in the dark. What kind of losers had you dated previously that either didn’t walk you safely to your car?

“Thank you for tonight, Frankie.”

He grins, thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles. “Thank you – I had a great time.”

“Next time, it’s my treat.” You say, hoping you weren’t thinking too much of something that wasn’t there. Would he even want a second date? Was he just being polite saying he had a good time? Is that what people said before never calling them again?

Unbeknownst to you, Frankie was having a hard time reigning in the enthusiastic excitement that had flooded through him the second you had spoken. You wanted another date? With him? He had to mash his teeth together to stop the eager grin threatening to break his face completely in half. Thank God he hadn’t blown it. You were… God. You were fucking incredible. He owed Benny – big time.

“I can deal with that,” he eventually agrees, face warm and giddy at the prospect of taking you out again.

You turn and envelope him in a hug when you reach your car, breathing in one final lungful of whatever delicious aftershave he had used, and smile to yourself against his shirt when he folds his arms around you, a hand cupping the back of your head to keep you pressed tightly against him.

Pulling back to say one final goodbye, you’re struck by how close his face seems, eyes flicking across his face before meeting his dark ones.

Suddenly trapped in a gaze that had a fire licking up your spine, your breath goes in a stuttered exhale. Rough fingertips trace your jaw, and then you’re holding your breath entirely as he leans in closer. Anticipation kicks in, heart thumping through your chest as he closes the distance much slower than you would like, and you fight away the wave of impatience that screams at you to just push forward and kiss him.

You don’t expect him to stop however, only a breath away from your lips, and you panic for a small second, wondering if you’re doing something wrong, but when he murmurs a quiet question, it takes all the strength in your legs to not fall to the fucking ground in a lump of melted goo.

“Can I kiss you?”

God yes. Please.

Unable to stop the shy smile that tugs at your lips, you try not to nod too eagerly and definitely fail miserably. You want this, more than what you’ve ever felt with anyone else. Frankie had you feeling like a giddy teenager with a huge crush and you were desperate to feel more of it, to see where it goes and what it could develop into.

At your nod of approval, he moves in the rest of the way, hand moving to cup the side of your neck below your ear, and he sighs lightly when your soft lips finally meet his. The kiss is tender, warm, and does nothing to soothe your raging pulse. He can’t hear your heartbeat, can he? God, can you hear his? He briefly worries, but when your lips move against his, his mind blanks.

His moustache tickles your lip, nose bumps gently with yours. Your hands find his chest, fingers gripping at the soft material, and for a moment it feels like you two are the only ones in existence, floating in a hazy whirl of space.

You take a minute to open your eyes when he eventually pulls away, and when you do, you find him gazing at you with a shy smile and a rosy flush across his cheeks. Lashes fluttering as you blink, you try to get a hold of your heart beating heavily against your ribs while your lips tingle from the aftershocks of his kiss.

Holy shit.

Before you can even think it through, his shirt tangles in your scrunched fist and you pull him back to you, replanting your lips against his with a desperate urgency he meets head on and returns eagerly. His hands, previously gentle, now grip at your waist, squeezing the flesh greedily as you let him walk you back into the side of your car. The metal is cold, even through your jacket, and you arch into him, moaning softly when his tongue traces your lip.

Your knees buckle when his tongue tangles with yours, and he presses you harder into the car to stop you dropping.

“Holy shit.” He breathes huskily after separating, lips widening into a grin when he sees you mirroring his breathlessness. You giggle softly, the fire roaring in your stomach turning into an affectionate warmth that floods your system when he brushes his nose along yours tenderly. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Stop.” Your smile turns shy, teeth digging into your lips as he chuckles again, dark eyes shining. He watches you wrangle your breathing into something semi normal, glad he wasn’t the only one that got swept up and carried away with the moment. 

He traces your cheek, planting one more, less hungry and more affectionate, kiss to your lips.

“Goodnight, mystery girl.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

He backs away, face split as he smiles, eyes admiring you before he turns and starts to meander away to wherever he was parked, turning to look at you over his shoulder every few steps. You climb into your car, grinning at the final wave he sends you before disappearing around the corner.

Finally alone in your car, you let out the disbelieving chuckle you’ve been keeping in all night, face feeling hot as the aftereffects of such a great date rests pleasantly in your stomach, mind running through every little moment of the night. Starting your car, you start the drive home, unable to stop touching your lips every so often, insides clenching at the memory of his lips moving against yours.

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[waywardimpalawriter]

I don’t know how my ask got changed to anon lol but ‘‘twas me asking about William Miller!

I’d love to see a Will/Plus Size reader snippet! Maybe they’re friends with Catfish and his and that’s how she gets introduced?

I just think Will would be such a softie for his girl💛

One touch

Pairing: William ‘Ironhead’ Miller x Plus Size Female Reader 

Characters:  William ‘Ironhead’ Miller, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales, Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia, Benjamin ‘Benny’ Miller, Frankie’s girl (Reader so referred by she/her) 

Setting: Two years after the event’s Triple Frontier, following weekend after the events of ‘Book Boyfriend’ 

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: fluff, kissing, self image issues (female), 

Summary: One simple touch just two hands meeting in greeting, little shocks of electricity dance across palms. Causing gasps to exist as eyes lock. Never intending to meet the man of your dreams because of your best friend. 

Word count: 4,254

Notes: Now part of the ‘Piece’s of life’ Series, chronologically second *for now* in reading order. Requested by the lovely @geminimoonbeamx. I had a good time writing then editing this little (coughs) okay not so little story.  

“Why did I let you talk me into this hmm?” Fingers twisting the hem of your ivory babydoll blouse worries filtering through your veins that the surplice neckline is cut too low. Showing too much of your generous bust to eyes that would sneer and poke jabs your way. “You know I’m not good in crowds.”

“Just a group of friends Y/N that your a part of no crowds,” Bouncing Isabella on her hip giving you a glare. In the back of her mind the idea she come up with stirring to life. Wanting happiest for her adopted family and hoping the matchmaking skills still proved useful. “Sweetheart how many times have I told you, tried to beat it into your head how beautiful you are?” 

“Given me headaches because of you woman,” eyes rolling you turn from watching your best friend. Heart aching to have the happiness she does. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna listen.” 

“And why not querido? She’s right, course I’m saying that from a brotherly stand point,” smiling while passing by. Frankie moves to stand beside his fiancée and daughter, placing a kiss to her forehead and the crown of Isabella’s. 

Head shaking still tugging at the offending garment, as uncomfortable feelings course through your body. “I’m more comfortable in scrubs than this frilly shit you both know that.” Leaning against the counter arms crossed slight glare to your features. 

“Shit,” little voice exclaims clapping of her hands, twin groans leaving both parents. 

“Now look what you started,” though a soft chuckle leaves her lips while still bouncing Isabella. 

Hard knock echoes through the small foray make all four of you jump and Frankie shake his head. “Ironhead,” breathing the name with a fond smile crawling across his lips. 

“Where’s my princess at,” deep voice boomed through the house followed by a small chorus of ‘Hey’. Accompanied by the sound of a hard slap to someones body part.   

Peels of laughter emanate from Isabella as she wiggles free from her mom’s arms recognizing the voice she runs on chubby little legs towards the mountain of a man standing in the doorway. Soft gasp barely held in your throat as your eyes start from his much loved hiking boots, traversing up long denim covered legs and thick thighs. Pausing for a moment to sweep your bottom lip between your teeth for a nibble taking in the expanse of trim waist and broad shoulders. Fitted dark blue t-shirt covering what you’d bet a weeks wages hides sculpted muscular chest your hands itch to touch. Trying not to groan when your eyes finally land on his face. If you thought his body a work of art sculpted by Michelangelo himself, his handsome face only added to the drool surely pouring from your mouth. Light blond beard your fingers twitch to run through, full bottom lip begging to be nibbled, short cropped dirty blond hair matching his chin. When your eyes finally stop ogling this adonis come to life and lock with the sweetest pair of stormy blue eyes stealing your breath. Quickly averting your stare to avoid seeing disappointment. 

Missing the confusion flash over his features, while bending to scoop Isabella up into his arms and playfully planting kisses over her chubby cheeks. Squeals mixed with giggles bring smiles to everyones faces. Will’s eyes however take that moment to drink in your appearance and finding himself at a lost for words. Trying to keep the smirk off his twitching lips watching the two of you. Frankie rubs at his mustache to hide till it turns into a smile. Catching the way Will looks you over with barely concealed desire. 

Walking over to slap Will’s back affectionately, “Glad you three Stooges could make it. Got a little worried for a moment.”  

“With Will’s driving it’s a wonder we made it at all,” slightly shaggy brown head shakes offsetting the remarks with a fond smile and teasing tone. 

“Walk next time Ben,” sharp quip leaving his lips a smile tugs them up a little. 

“Bring your asses in here, got someone I want y’all to meet but now I’m thinking better of it,” rubbing his patchy bearded chin gleam of mischief sparking through those chocolate browns. 

Head shaking she smacks Frankie’s tummy lightly getting a ‘oaf’ sound from his lips. “Language Morales or it’s the couch for you,” voice teasing but still holds a bit of warning. 

“I call your bluff amor,” rubbing the abused spot, sending her a wink and focusing on you. “Remember I’ve been tell y’all about Y/N,” grin returns as your head snaps up to shoot daggers at the man you consider a brother. “They work together at the clinic,” smirking at the look you’re giving him, “cool the ire querido.” Looking between the two of you, slapping Will on the back, “Y/N meet Will…” 

“I remember Frankie you don’t have to go into an oral history,” extending your hand watching him with curious eyes. The care with which he holds Isabella to his chest makes your heart melt for this man you barely know except from the stories heard over a late night poker game or conversations about your lives between the three of you. “Pleasure meeting you Will.” 

Carefully enveloping your smaller hand within the gun callused grip of his own, he swallows taking in the beauty before him. Speechless till Isabella pats his cheek, “Trust me honey the pleasure is all mine.” 

Breath caught as a shiver rolls down your spine at the contact of his warm hand. Insnared by those beautiful eyes you slowly lick dry lips cursing your inability to form the right words to utter at this moment. The look he’s giving you only further ties your tongue as heat spreads pleasantly along your spine and warms your body like no other. Though that little insecure voice in that back of your mind sounding like all those jeering girls from the past telling you this beautiful man wouldn’t give you a second look.   

“Anty,” holding her little arms out towards you breaking the spell Will seemed to cast over you. Immediately taking her into your arms, small body resting on your generous hips, eyes leaving his to brush a kiss over her soft brown head. 

Throat clears behind him, “Mind moving your as…” seeing the finger up in warning at Ben with fire dancing in her eyes. “Butt outta the way brother dear,” gravely voice finished the amended words before she could smack him up side the head. 

Slimmer in build, face clean shaving with a black ball cap turn backwards, smiling blue eyes take you in. Feeling a little self conscious that evaporates when he comes forward to tickle Isabella making her squeal in happiness. Taking your out stretched hand bringing the two of your into a short one sided hug. 

“Ben Miller ma’am and yes Fish told us a great deal about you leaving out the part about your beauty though.” Playful twinkle in those sweet sky blue eyes putting you at ease in a different way than his brother. 

Brow lifting short scoff existing your throat, you can see the family resemblance between him and Will. “Thank you but flattery will get you no where darlin.” Sweet smile spreading over your lips slowly. 

Letting your hand go to step aside Benny glances over at her sending a teasing wink that makes her playfully roll her eyes. 

“I like her already hermano doesn’t take Benny’s shit and gives it right back,” chuckling then ‘oafs’ when she smacked him on the back of his curly dark brown head. “You said it first a long time ago hermosa. I’m an old man you’re gonna…” 

“Knock the few brains you have left out of your skull? Not possible Pope you only think with what’s between your legs,” snicking at the playful sullen look he gives her. “Don’t mind him Y/N. He’s more of a rocky road than smooth peanut butter.” Trying to hide the approval skipping through her eyes at the way Santi looks at you. 

“Woman must you give all my secrets away,” grinning he takes your hand to kiss your knuckles salt and pepper beard tickling your skin. “Santiago Garcia but these knuckle heads call me Pope you can call me whatever you like preciosa,” giving you a smirk. (Gorgeous)

Smooth, of course Santi would pull out all the stops to flirt with you. Those thoughts twisted his gut though there’s no reason they should. You’re free to choose who ever you wanted but that little nudge in the back of his mind questioned why not him? When your eyes connect Will quickly looks away plastering a smile over his features to not give away the uncertainty currently filtering through his mind.   

Catching Will’s stare till you blink and he’s turned his head making you feel foolish for thinking he’s actually looking at you. “Just don’t call you late for dinner huh?” Returning your gaze to Santiago’s deep chocolate eyes. Giving him a soft smirk low chuckle leaving him lips tipped up with his own smile spreading across his mouth. 

“Know me already,” grinning Santi steps closer to brush a kiss over Isabella’s curls. “Pleasure meeting you Y/N,” keeping his eyes locked for a moment longer with yours than stepping away.  

Heat blooms over your body, not nearly what you felt when Will shook your hand but still warm as you switch a bouncing Isabella to your other hip. 

Shaking his head, “All right now that everyone’s met out of the kitchen,” waving his arms to shoo them out the backdoor. “Pope give me a hand with the cooler?” Frankie asks motioning towards the long Igloo cooler by the backdoor. 

“Why you gotta pick on the old man Fish there’s two strapping young men right there that can carry the chest?” Grinning as both Miller boys roll their eyes. 

Scoffing, “You ain’t any old then I am Pope stop acting like your ancient man,” popping his shoulder nodding a thanks to Will and Ben. Frankie grabs the plater full of steaks, heading out the door behind them with Santi snatching up the vegetables for grilling. 

Once the door securely closes, “You like him don’t you?” Coming towards you to take a bouncing Isabella from your hip. 

Eyes widen glancing towards her, head shaking in the negative. You move from one bare foot to the next wiggling your toes against the cool tile floor. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Will,” the only thing she answers with going to place Isabella in her highchair while getting the rest of dinner finished. Having seen the way you looked at the eldest Miller and how he you. 

Gapping at her, “What about him?” Though you couldn’t deny the pleasurable tingles dancing across your skin at his touch. Soulful blue eyes flash when you close your. Splashed with a haunted look that a part of you wants to help. “Don’t try to set us up woman it wouldn’t work.” 

“Why not?” Frown turning down the corners of her lips, banishing a wooden spoon towards you. “Stop thinking every man is Brock. Trust me neither of them could treat you like he did. Will’s a good man you should give him a chance.” Thought secretly pulling for Santiago having a feeling you’d help sooth some of those demons she’s seen in his eyes at times. 

Eyes rolling so hard you’re sure there stuck somewhere in the back of your head. “An adonis like him would never give me a second look.” Glancing out the window to the back patio, pausing on the very man your discussing. Watching him laugh at something corners of his eyes crinkle and the smile tugging at his very kissable mouth has a small breathy sigh leaving your body. Unable to deny the thoughts rolling like film through your mind. Wondering exactly what those lips would feel like. If there soft? How they’d feel… shaking those ideas from your head to focus back on the woman chuckling.  

“Told you,” smirking her own gaze landing on Frankie who’s soft loving eyes focus on her before Benny smacks the back of his head. Making all the guys except Frankie bust out laughing again. 

Swallowing, you glance away right as Will’s stare lands on your plush form. Foreign feelings building in his chest every time he looks at you. Hoping it’s not written all over his face or the guys would rib him as they do Frankie. But in that moment when your eyes lock, glass and a short distant the only thing between Will doesn’t care about teasing. Interested solely in getting to know you, to find out if your soft body will mold to his hard angles the way he hopes. To taste those kissably plush looking lips and dragging all manner of noises from the back of your throat. 

Beer bottle waves into his field of vision breaking the connection with you and reaching for the cold long neck to take a health drink. 

“She’s single,” taking he seat next to him, voice low to not include Ben or Santi. “Be careful with her though,” locking browns with blues for a moment letting Will know wordlessly what he means. 

Shaking his head, “Benny or Pope…” looking back towards the house watching you move around the kitchen like a seasoned pro. Never one to not go after what or in this case who he wants, Will swallows harshly even before taking another drink. Gut twisting at the thought of you with another man. Shock widens his eyes given the fact you just met. But how often did one feel those pleasurable tingles that warm the bones and dance across their veins like tiny lighting bolts. Just from one single touch. 

“Trust me when I say she’s too much for Benny and Pope’s not home longer enough sadly,” smiling before tossing back the rest of his beer. “She’s shy at first but like my love will open up to you if treated right,” giving a fond smack to his shoulder. “Think about it and don’t let the past how you back,” getting up with that parting advice to check on the steaks. 

Giving Will some much needed time to think while Benny talks about his next fight and Santi adds news concerning the job he’s been vetting. Not really paying attention till both women come from the kitchen loaded arms bringing potato salad, bacon wrapped asparagus, macaroni salad, and dessert, Isabella held snuggled in her mother’s arms. All four shoot up to help, Will offers to take one of the bowels from you. To which you smile handing him the asparagus. Heart thumping wildly offering you one of his own in return. Fingers brush shooting those tingles back through both your bodies. 

Quickly turning, to keep from embarrassing yourself. “Hope you remembered to make my steak medium Frankie I don’t want no burnt meat.” Hands planted on your ample hips giving him a playful glare. 

Will takes the moment to take in your form, hands itching to grasp your thick waist and bring you back into his chest face burying into the sweet spot between neck and shoulder. Wondering if your ticklish, if you’d enjoy the burn his beard would leave. Thoughts interrupted by Frankie’s voice.

“Yes, ma’am I left yours and Will’s for last since you both seem to like your meat mooing,” chocolate eyes rolling getting a giggle from Isabella and a soft chuckle from the woman beside him. 

Looking towards her, mouthing a quick thank you. Nodding in return, “Go make your drink I know how much you loath beer sweetheart.” 

“Shit tastes like piss to me,” muttering the words just loud enough to have everyone bust out laughing when Isabella repeats what you said. Giving her a sheepish look before bolting towards the kitchen door in anticipation of something thrown at you. 

Watching you go, a deep chuckle leaves his lips and curiosity gets the better of him so Will follows. Pausing to lean against the archway into the kitchen. Noticing for the first time your barefooted, in a pair of fitted carpi’s accentuating the curve of your ass and thick thighs. Visions of those thighs wrapped around his waist floating through his mind till a huff of annoyance sounds. Breaking him from those salacious thoughts to see you stretching, blouse riding up to bare a small patch of skin, reaching for a bottle of Jack. 

Before thinking things through fully Will’s feet carefully, quietly walk him towards you. Pressing his chest against your soft back, getting a squeak of surprise from your lips. One hand pressed into the counter beside your thick waist the other reaching above you wrapping those thick nibble fingers around the half full bottle of amber liquid. Lowering yourself from tip toes your to brush against the person behind you. Mouth dry as soft musk cologne, an under current of pine added to tickle your nose as warmth dances over your cloth covered back. 

“Thank you,” head turning to look into the vivid blues of Will. Who’s yet to move from crowding you into the counter. Breath stolen by the way he’s looking at you, almost hungry and not for the food that’s cooked. 

Clearing his throat, voice gruff, and deep sending shivers down your back. “You’re welcome happy to help a damsel in distress.” Stepping back so you could move, eyes darting towards your lips. That you lick slowly, tucking the bottom between your teeth making a low groan ramble from within his chest. Clearing throat to speak, “What’s the Jack for?” 

Blinking trying to focus on what he’s asked and not how good it felt to have him pressed against you. “Uh… it’s,” ‘God why does he have to smell so good,’ thinking to yourself while trying to answer but find yourself unable to form the most basic coherent thoughts. 

“For?” Stepping forward, placing the bottle on the counter so his hand is free to brace himself and crowd you back into the spot recently vacated. 

Fascinated by the bob of his Adams apple eyes glued to that particularly interesting patch of skin. You don’t hear the question till two fingers pinch your chin. Raising your eyes to meet with lust blown stormy blues. “Straight or in Coke?” The pad of his thumb grazing over your bottom lip pulled the wet skin free from being trapped by your teeth. “You gotta stop biting that bottom lip honey it’s distracting.” 

“Wha… what?” Struck dumb for a moment you swallow trying to get moisture to the Sahara desert formally known as your throat. Head shaking the lustful cobwebs out, “In Coke,” finally gaining enough brain power to answer. Unsure just what he’s playing at while trying to remember what she said about Will. The fact he’s nothing like Brock but that little horrible voice tries to keep reminding you of faults. Hang ups Brock had about your body and job you loved. 

“Woman after my own heart,” smirk pulling at the corners of his lips and catching your eyes. Unconsciously pulling your bottom lip back between your teeth in a bid to keep from whimpering at how delicious he feels pushing into your soft body. “Fuck,” low growl leaves his chest caging you in. The hand bracing himself wraps around your plush waist. Tugging you against him tighter as the other cups your cheek. “Tell me to stop and I will.” Wanting you comfortable with his actions hoping his touch dissipates the uncertainty in your eyes. 

Finding your voice after swallowing again, “If your not serious then stop. I’m not looking for a one night stand.” Shocked by your own forwardness, maybe she’s rubbing off on you after all. Whatever the reason you don’t care you just want to taste those lips and feel them pressed against your own. Recklessness in the face of better judgement sliding through your thoughts. 

“Tomorrow night 1900hrs dinner?” Waiting, nerves making him just a little jumpy. Itching to finally taste your mouth but he waits for you answer. 

Nodding, arms coming up to wrap around his broad shoulders, fingers tugging the soft hairs at the back of his head. “7pm dinner nothing fancy I’m not that kinda girl soldier boy.” 

“It’s Captain actually,” smirk sliding over his kissable lips. 

Brow tipping upward, “You gonna kiss me Captain or wait till tomorrow night?” 

“Permission to make you whimper ma’am?” Cocky twist to his glaze that reminds you of Benny but it’s different and you know damn well he’s going to be trouble. 

“You can try Captain,” innocently wetting your lips, looking up at him through your lashes. 

Sunk and he knows it. That simple look sets his body aflame and desperate to have you. But he reigns those thoughts in, while lowering his head to touch yours. Lips brushing softly barely there kiss sending tingles dancing across his body. Eyes close to savor the strawberry chapstick glossed over your pouty lips. Arm tightening around your plush waist, Will slides his mouth over yours twice before slanting an angle against your lips. Keeping the kiss chaste till you timidly tug at his hair making him groan at the slight sting. Taking the signal as go ahead to plunder the warm depths of your wet mouth. Nipping the already abused bottom lip, sucking the soft skin between his own teeth to nibble and caress with the tip of his tongue. Soft whimper vibrated through your chest making him smirk but doesn’t stop the assault on your mouth. 

Using the hand from your cheek to slide back and cup your neck holding you in place as he thrusts his masterful tongue into the wet cavern of your mouth. Playfully mating with yours, tangling and retreating repeatedly wanting to hear those whimpers. Capturing and bringing yours into his own wet depths making a moan race from the deep reaches of his chest and his arm to tighten deliciously so wanting to meld the two of you together. Finding your curves fit his angles perfectly. Only the need for air breaks you apart, foreheads resting as you share gasping breaths. 

Stunned by the amount of passionate want flowing through his veins. Not even sharing that kind of depth with his ex-fiancee. Those very thoughts shock and shaking him to the very core. Only breaking from the trans by Santi’s teasing voice. 

“Might want to save some of that sexual tension for your date tomorrow you two. No fun to play all your cards in one night,” Pope’s laughter filled voice floating through the desire coated haze your both wrapped up in. 

Head falling to his sternum to hide yourself from the prying eyes of your new and old friends. “Fuck off Pope,” voice rambles under your cheek, catching the teasing tone. 

Pinching his side playfully at the language used receiving a low growl into your ear from the man wrapped around you. Burying your face in his chest to cover the squeak when his large hand cups a generous butt cheek to squeeze. 

“Making out like randy teenagers in our kitchen for shame I thought you both knew better?” Frankie groans into her shoulder his head finding home with shake of laughter and playful disgust color his voice. 

Head snapping up glare leveled at Frankie, “Randy teenagers huh? Says the man who fucked my best friend on every surface in this house. Some I choose not to sit in because of the things I know.” Reluctantly stepping away from Will’s warmth to make your drink, smirk sliding over your lips when they both gasp. 

Santi and Benny gagging, wiping at themselves to clean off imaginary dirt. All four retreating back outside after the show you put on for their amusement ending. 

Grabbing the bottle of Jack, a can of coke and your favorite Reduce stainless steal cup. Plopping all the ingredients on the island you glance up to notice everyone else left except Will. “So where you taking me tomorrow night?” 

“I know this nice little place, quiet, excellent management and the food,” eyes close with a blissed express over his features. Almost as if he’s tasting the food right now. 

Watching him while dragging your bottom lip back between indenting teeth, “You’re place huh?” Teasingly quipped till stormy blue eyes open and lock with yours. “I’m kidding of course,” swallowing harshly, hand shaking just a touch while pouring the Jack then coke over ice. Attention diverted towards the task, missing the spike of arousal flare to life and deepening his blue orbs.  

Heat surrounded your back as Will comes up behind you, hands gripping the island on either side of your thick waist to cage you in. Pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, “An option true one I’ll save for later sweetheart after we get to know each other better.” 

Heat flicker’s to life low in your belly, his minty breath ghosting over your skin. Making it hard to suppress the shiver of desire rolling down your back. Especially when Will pressed himself against you. Swiping your Jack and Coke to take a health drink. “Hey soldier boy that my drink. Make your own.” 

“Hmm wanna taste?” Wiggling his brow, Will lowers his mouth back to yours for another kiss. This time hints of Jack and Coke assault your taste buds but there’s more. A flavor you’ll come to associate with Will, one you’ll never get enough of.    

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part IV

Word Count: 1,925 Warnings: PTSD. Drug use. Ben Affleck. Panic attacks. Bullet wounds. Smut (not explicit but it's there). A/N: Your kind words mean literally everything to me and I have been sobbing between the warmth shown to me over this series and also how much I love Francisco Morales and want the absolute best for him.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

Gif by: @uuuhshiny

Luna hasn’t stopped wailing since Sunday, the one and only day Frankie said he wouldn’t be able to call.

It’s Thursday and both their lungs are close to giving out.

One Morales woman hyperventilating herself into fitful sleeps, the other only sobbing through held breaths in stolen lonely moments of peace and quiet.

Kristyn had taken up residence in the spare room, making sure Leah slept and ate. She was the one who cashed in Leah’s sick days with the school, forging a bullshit sick note when she went into work.

Leah is currently distraught because her husband might be dead in South America, we don’t know.

That’s what the first one said, dashed out on the keyboard in a petty moment of frustration. She might be the only one of Leah’s sisters who didn't want to lob his fucking head off every time she shed a tear but it didn’t mean she never wanted to do it.

Patient is suffering from a prolonged migraine and intensive nausea. Follow up appointment scheduled for next Thursday at 9am.

That should fucking do it but she’ll have to start checking off the vacation days soon. Dip into family leave for Luna.

Alexa held her on that first Monday, talking her through the panic in a puddle of spilled coffee. The paper cup splashing across their knees in the hallway as concern emanated from the AP Lit room at their backs.

Somewhere at the base of the Andes, her husband was being pried out of a crashed helicopter by the only other men she’d ever truly loved. William was shot, Benny was reckless. She felt it all in her body as she was driven home, helped into the shower, held in her bed but not by the arms she craved.

“He's coming home,” Deana brought dinner that night, her big sister cutting into her steak like she was a child at risk of choking again, “he will do anything he can to make sure of that.”

“What if he doesn’t, D?” Leah’s taken on the stare, everything and nothing all at once, “what if he doesn’t come home this time?”

“I promise you, Lee, okay?” She reaches out to push aside hair damp with tears, “I've never seen a man so in love.”

“Yeah…” she’s quiet, “he promised me too.”

And she told him to stop making promises because he doesn’t keep them.

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

The tears well over her eyes, spilling onto already salt stained cheeks.

He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He poured his entire being into her, drunk off the feel of their bodies together. She could feel him in the hollow of her ribs, an aching that called out for the comfort of his beating heart against hers again.

Would that be so bad?

She sobbed out, startling Luna’s own ragged cries again, afraid that she would never know warmth against her cold hands again.

—————

“Hey,” they're huddled against the onslaught beneath a barely-there cliff, labored breathing in tandem, “you still with me?”

Frankie’s panic attack came on slowly, a rolling storm in the distance the moment the helo crashed in the valley.

Bad landing.

His fight or flight response has his lungs in a vice grip but he still manages a laugh, “I think I should be the one asking you that.”

“You know it’s gonna take a lot more than a stray bullet to fuck me off,” he’s smiling but Frankie knows how much blood he’s lost, how long it takes for a wound like that to clot without medical intervention.

It’s true, it’ll take a lot more than a stray bullet to take William Miller but that was before, when they had back up. Out here, though? Surrounded by his brothers in arms? Having done what he just did?

Francisco Morales has never felt more alone.

“Fish,” William hits his knee against his, “where are you?”

His eyes refocus on the tepid water pounding all around him, the world coming back as he takes a deep breath, “are you afraid, Will?”

“You gotta be more specific, Frank, I’m terrified of everything.”

He’s quiet when he speaks, “me too,” barely above the downpour.

He sees Will nod in his peripheral, “I know.”

“Will, I’m afraid I’ll never see them again,” and when he chokes, he realizes he’s been crying.

“No, you can’t think like that.”

“I know, but I can’t stop it either, like…” trailing off, he lifts his face to the pressure of the water; it’s the sweetest thing he’s felt in days, “what if this is the last shower I ever take?”

“Fish…” Will reaches for him but he’s cut short.

“No, listen to me. If anything happens to me out he—“

“Nothing is going to fucking hap—"

“Shut up and let me finish,” his rage and sadness is burning hot through him, it takes everything within his being not to choke on air as he speaks again. “If anything happens to me out here, Will, take care of my girls. Please.”

The blond nods his head, heavy with exhaustion and pain, “until the very end of my life, Frankie.”

The relief that spreads through his body is better than any drug he ever tried, he feels himself slipping into an upright sleep, his heart at peace for the first time since he left his bed.

“But,” Will’s voice catches him on the edge of consciousness, “I would also face down the end of my life to make sure you see them again, do you understand me? If the only thing standing between you and a bullet is me, don’t fight. Leave me there and run like hell. You’re going back to your family.”

“But if I don’t make it…”

“Fish,” Will's laugh is drenched in the space between them, “are you saying it’s your last will and testament for me to marry your wife?”

“Fuck off,” his words are clipped, strained, “and don’t call me Fish.”

—————

They still, eyes up to the screen of the baby monitor as they hold their breath for another sound from Luna’s room. The baby settles back into silence, her small chest rising and falling on the grainy feed.

He remembers Leah opening the military grade surveillance equipment at the baby shower, the shake of her laughter as she held onto Benny’s shoulder to anchor herself to the chair.

“Should we check on her?” It’s small, a rushed question of a concerned mother.

“I said a baby monitor, Benjamin, not a prison security camera.”

“Absolutely not,” Ben grabs her hand, “This is better than any of that shit you’ll find at Target. Video means there’s no wondering either, you can just look up and assess the situation, more rest. That’s important, you’ll need to savor the little that you get.”

He pushes a lock of hair from her face, damp with the tears of the day and the sweat of the night, “no, baby, we don’t want to disturb her.”

“Yeah,” Will chimes in, his beer bottle held loosely in his hands, “Frankie should’ve been training you on sleep deprivation this whole time, you’re spec ops yourself now.”

“But what if she wakes up?”

“Well…” the corner of his mouth lifts to close the fan at the corner of his eyes, “it’s a good thing she can’t see us through that thing, right?”

“Francisc—“ the irritation of his name is finished in a heady moan lured from her body by another slow drag of his hips.

The crook of his nose slots against hers as he finds her lips again, the warmth of the room around them is nothing compared to their mouths on each other. Bathing in shared heat, her fingers entwine into the curls at the crown of his head, the other hand palm up to his chest. And as the beating of his heart races towards her burning touch, he submerges himself once again.

His firm grip holds the hinge in her leg, fingers digging into the sensitive skin that fills her lungs with fits of laughter and light. He braces himself against the bed, the aching in his forearm dulled by the soft, breathless whimpers intoxicating his entire being.

His voice is washed out when he finds it, “mi sol,” lips dragging across her own, “mis estrellas.”

Her eyes find his, heavy with admiration and trust. “Francisco,” she is drunk and drowning in the love of this man, “finish me.”

He shifts to cradle her jaw and as he trails his other hand up her thigh, he sinks within her once more. Finding his release against her own, he is convinced they’ll never be able to fully untangle again.

He presses a kiss to her nose.

My sun.

Her forehead.

My stars.

Her lips.

My whole sky.

—————

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

He snaps back to reality, Santi and Tom’s voices echoing all around them.

His head is hot, he’s pushing past Will with concern set so deeply in his eyes he fears he’ll break right there.

Would that be so bad?

“Fucking bullshit!” Tom’s face is red, Santi having finally said what all of them are thinking.

He feels the weight of Leah in every fiber of his being, slotted perfectly against his body.

“We're all on the hook for this, are we not?”

I should’ve said no.

“God damn this fucking horse! Stop it!”

All those years blinded by loyalty to authority, Frankie never talked back to his leader but the man in front of him isn’t a leader. He’s a whiny child who’s lost his toys and Frankie hates him.

Biting back what he wants to say, he holds his hand up in a show of camaraderie, “Relax.” His finger quirks up as if he’s scolding a tantrum, “Relax. We’re not picking at the fucking scab right now, okay?”

Tom stares him down, like he’s weighing an argument against him too but Frankie’s done. He meets the taller man’s gaze, this man he would’ve died for.

“One foot in front of the other. Come on.”

This man he almost has died for.

“Let's go. Jesus fucking Christ.”

His true allegiances don’t lie to this man anymore or the gun at his hip. Not the money or the mules. He left that splintered fantasy about twenty feet back.

He’d throw this man over if it meant going home right now.

The money too.

None of it is worth a goddamn thing to him if it means he’ll never see the way that the light bounces off the gold in Leah Morales’ eyes ever again.

The same honeyed flakes in the brown of his daughter’s bright gaze.

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He wanted to pour his entire being into that woman, ensure that he would live on if lost to the Colombian jungle off a narco's bullet.

Would that be so bad?

He was scared but, truly, would it be so bad?

But it would be because he could truly leave her with nothing. No money, no husband, no father to her babies.

He lost count of the days he hadn’t called.

He makes his way up the mountain, following Tom’s bitching, wishing it was Leah leading him home instead.

TAG LIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @princess76179 | @bbuckysbeardd | @notcookiebelle | @knivesareout | @empress-palpat1ne​

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Against Orders

Based on this request:  May I request Ben Tallmadge fic where the reader is Caleb’s adopted sister who is captured by Robert Rogers? Caleb and Ben go after her against orders and Caleb figures out that Ben is in love with her?

Here you are, lovelies! *Familiar characters do NOT belong to me!*

Fandom: TURN: Washington’s Spies

Warnings: Angst, mentions of kidnapping. A little fluff I suppose

Pairings/Characters: Benjamin Tallmadge x fem!reader, Caleb Brewster

"'Ey, Tall boy! Get out here. There's someone here who wants to see ya!" Ben rolled his eyes at the nickname his best friend had given him. He stood and stepped out of his tent, only to stop dead in his tracks. There, standing in front of him, was you. The woman of his absolute dreams. The woman he had fallen in love with when you were still teenagers. The adopted sister of his best friend which meant one thing. You were absolutely and unequivocally off limits.

         "Are you just going to stand there staring or are you going to hug me?" you asked with a cheeky smile. Ben couldn't help but laugh as he opened his arms. "Missed you, Benny," you whispered so only he could hear as you stepped into his embrace. He fought back a smile that he knew Caleb would see. If Caleb figured out that Ben's thoughts were often less than innocent, he'd get punched in the face.

         "Why are you here?" You chuckled a bit as you pulled back. "Well after…after Simcoe executed our uncle, your father took me in. But you know I've always been a bit too wild for him," you told him with a laugh, "He sent me to visit with Caleb for a bit while there's a lull in the fighting."

         "And I'm happy ta have, ya, but I have to make a short run. I leave ya in Benny-boy's capable hands." Benny started to argue, but then he thought about it. He too had a little bit of a reprieve, one that would probably be spent working regardless. Perhaps he could put it to good use and spend time with you instead. He nodded his head before he could stop himself and Caleb left, leaving the two of you alone.

         "I really did miss you, Ben. Living with your father has brought back memories of running through the fields away from you and Caleb as you tried to put a frog down the back of my dress." Benny laughed and shook his head. He remembered that too. He remembered everything about you. He even recalled the first time he realized he was in love with you.

         Even in his dreams, he remembered how beautiful you looked with the water of the river reflecting the sun against your skin as he and Caleb rowed away. He could still see the tears that poured down your face as you stood there with Anna and Abraham. Your eyes had met his and he almost changed his mind. But he had a job to do. He couldn't stay for his own selfish reasons.

         "Ben?" your voice broke Ben out of his reverie and he smiled at you. "Sorry. Let me show you around." You nodded and linked your arm with his. As the two of you walked through camp, you did your best to ignore the stares and pointed whispers, especially when you happened upon General Washington briefly. You talked with Ben, telling him about everything happening in Setauket. But Ben noticed you refused to tell him much about yourself. When he asked about it, your face changed and you looked like you'd seen a ghost.

         "There's something I have to tell you. Your father didn't send me. I begged to come. One last chance to see you before your father continues his search for a husband…for me," you admitted, making Ben freeze. You were considering marriage? "I don't want to talk about that, though. I came to see you and Caleb, and that is what I plan on focusing on. Alright?" you told him with a smile so bright, Ben had to laugh. He would wish he'd taken that moment to tell you that he didn't want you marrying anyone but him. But how could he have known that you would nearly be taken from him?

*short time skip*

         It was your second evening visiting when Caleb came running over to Ben in a frenzy. "Ben! She's gone! Y/N is gone!" Ben was instantly on high alert. "What?!" Caleb panted for a moment. "One of the wives said she saw a man take her. Matches Robert Rogers' description! He took her, Ben. He took my sister!" Ben was on his feet in a second. "Which way?" Caleb stared at him, pointing in a direction.

         "The general ordered you to stay put, Ben. We knew Rogers was in the area." Ben clenched his fists at his side. He had indeed been ordered by Washington to stay in camp. Rogers was out for revenge and everyone knew it. But this was you! He couldn't leave you in the hands of that murderous drunk. He just couldn't. His decision made, his blue eyes never left Caleb's as he grabbed his belongings.

         "I will deal with the general after we get Y/N back." Caleb merely stared at him in disbelief. Not that Ben blamed him. It wasn't like him to go against his orders. He was hot-headed, true, but he admired Washington and obeyed nearly every order. But this time, he had no choice. You were his priority.  

         The walk through the thick woods was quiet for a bit. Ben's mind and heart were racing. He took a page from his father's book at prayed that he wasn't too late. Rogers wasn't exactly mentally stable. Ben had no idea if he would actually kill you. He couldn't take that chance. So, he said nothing and continued searching for signs of you. It was Caleb who broke the silence.

         "So how long have ya been in love with my sister, Tall boy?" Ben froze in place. His spine stiffened as he glanced over his shoulder at his closest friend. To his surprise, there was no anger in Caleb's face. Only amusement and curiosity. Ben swallowed thickly. He didn't know how to answer that without bringing about Caleb's wrath.

         "Relax, Benny. If there's anyone capable of lovin' and protectin' her, it's ya. I already see ya as family." Ben felt a smile creep up onto his lips. "Thank  you, Caleb. Let's just hope we get to her in time." The two men shared a quick glance before heading off in search of you again. Ben knew that, when he found you, he was going to tell you right then and there that he loved you. He would ask you to marry him when the war was over.

(a/n: I hope you like it! I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, the casting director for this show did NOT have to hire to such pretty people for this show. They did not have to go that hard XD)

[stusbunker]

A Gentlemen’s Agreement Epilogue

A Supernatural Denny AU Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny Lafitte

Other characters: Pamela, Jesse, Caesar, Crowley, Balthazar, Meg, Jo, Lee, Lisa, Sam (mentioned), Drea OFC, Robbie and SJ OMCs, Deanna OFC

Word count: 2340

A/N: Enjoy! xoxo Stu

Brunch

    The sun was bright, but the air was crisp. The remnants of the early snowstorm had left soggy lawns and damp sidewalks. Benny pulled up to the restaurant and parked on the curb, smiling over at Dean. He waited patiently. 

    “You sure this is a good idea?” Dean squinted in the midday light.

    “Been dying to meet ya. Figured it’s only fair, I met your folks, you can meet my people too,” Benny said simply. “But I’m not gonna force ya.”

    “I just, I’m not used to being out in public. In numbers,” Dean sputtered.

    Benny raised a single eyebrow at him. “Well, I guess this is your best shot to try it out, dontcha think?”

    “What if they don’t like me? I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your friends,” Dean explained the root of the problem.

    “I like you, they will too. Just relax, be your charming self and if you don’t know what to say, you can just keep eating.” Benny put his hand on Dean’s thigh, squeezing just so.

    Dean growled out a sigh. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

    Like that could make an uncomfortable situation worth it. Benny smirked at Dean’s logic, waiting for his face to soften from grouchy to amiable. Once Dean relaxed, Benny kissed him, just long enough to keep him flustered and climbed out of the truck.

     They approached a large round table midway along the heated patio, where four people were already seated.

A raven haired woman waved them over. “My good Benjamin, did you bring a straight boy to brunch, just for me?!”

“Pammy!” Benny leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Hate to disappoint ya darlin', but ain't nothing straight about this'n."

 “Hey, now! Can’t a guy speak for himself?!” Dean snipped defensively as he sat in the spot beside Benny.

Everyone laughed. Pamela raised her eyebrow in question.

Dean licked his lips and put on the smolder, “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m taken.”

“Wait, this--- THIS is your sassy mechanic?!” Crowley leaned forward, extending his hand, his English brogue gruff and pandering. “Nice to finally meet you, handsome.”

       Dean gave Benny the side eye and all Benny could do was shrug coyly. Dean shook the man’s hand, trying not to show his discomfort from his lingering glances. Benny made the rest of the introductions, Jesse and Cesar were also a couple, but had been married for a few years. They seemed to be waiting on someone before they ordered. The group sipped their cocktails with a fresh pitcher of Bloody Mary in the center of the kitsch tablecloth.

Benny poured Dean a generous portion of the red drink and slipped seamlessly into the conversation. Dean sucked the palmeto out of an olive and listened casually, not too sure where he fit in this part of Benny’s life.

Twenty minutes later a rail of a guy swaggered in, with oversized aviators and a black linen suit. 

“Oh, thank Christ for booze,” he huffed, grabbing Dean’s glass without even acknowledging Dean was there. The blonde chugged the entire drink, before breaking for air. “I just had the worst hook up of my life, no, well, the year at least. He took me to his mother’s house. She tried to make me breakfast. I was simply mortified. I just left. What could I even do at that point, honestly?!”

Now that his audience had his attention back, the man gawked at Dean. He even pulled down his sunglasses for a better look. “Now who the fuck is this? Is it show and tell?! Because I am not prepared in the least.” 

He casually patted at his hair and eyed Dean from top to toe. Benny chuckled, but Pamela was the one to make the introduction.

“Balthazar, our regular hangover diva. Meet Dean, Benny’s boy toy,” she deadpanned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh you can’t be serious,” Balthazar lamented, looking from Pam to Benny to Crowley and finally at Dean. “Fuck you southerners and your goddamn accents--- always gets the hotter ones,” he muttered defensively as he threw himself against the armrest of the chair, crossing his legs.

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Cesar ended the dramatics concisely. “Maybe somebody should find our waitress?”

Dean looked at Benny confused. “We’re always here for a while, she doesn’t bother us until we’re actually ready to order. Tend to annoy her otherwise.”

Crowley volunteered as he needed to head to the men’s room anyhow. Five minutes later he arrived with an obviously surly waitress.

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Meg’s smokey voice broke through Balthazar's latest story. She centered herself between Cesar and Crowley’s seat and cocked her hip, tongue firmly in cheek as she waited for Dean to take her bait.

“Heya, Meg,” Dean sighed. The inevitable caught up with him after all, they just had to run into someone he knew.

“Oh, this has got to be good, now, pray tell, how do you two know each other?” Crowley probed.

“Oh me and this schmuck? We go way back.” Meg smiled without teeth.

“Is that so?” Benny tested the waters.

“Not like that,” Dean grumbled. “Meg, here, took my little brother Sammy out for a few spins, back in the day. Didn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? It was high school.” Meg let her indifference coat her entire being until curiosity sparked to life in her eyes. “So what are you doing with this crowd, or did they bring you in just to add a new level of torture to my Sunday shifts?”

“Well---.” Dean swallowed, looked at Benny for clarification and got mild amusement instead. “I think you’re stuck with me now.”

“Joy,” Meg bristled before taking their orders, knowing most of the table’s usuals before they even opened their mouths.

News

    Benny rushed into the customer entrance of the shop, the wet October air had kept the service doors closed for the past week. He leaned against the counter, decorated in local business cards and charity fliers, anxiously waiting for someone to talk to. His chest was so tight he worried he’d pass out from excitement. He just needed to see him was all, once he saw Dean it would be easier.

    Lee sauntered in from the service bay, they both had drawn the short straw it seemed.

    “Hey, mind getting Dean for me? It’s important,” Benny asked, unable to keep the burning smile from his face.

    Lee eyed him curiously but nodded and headed back the way he came. He didn’t shout, not really. “Dean-o, your boyfriend’s looking for ya.”

    Dean unfurled himself from the engine he had been tinkering with all morning and glared at Lee.

    “Husband, whatever, seems urgent,” Lee acquiesced. Dean nodded and wiped his hands off on the closest rag. Dean pulled his wedding band out from his undershirt out of habit more than anything. He couldn’t wear it on his hands at work, but he didn’t want to lose it so Benny made him a braided leather necklace once they got back from their honeymoon.

    Dean ignored formality and walked straight into the waiting room. Once he saw the look on Benny’s face he knew what was happening.

    “It’s go time?” He asked, shock and exhilaration sparking his instinct to move.

    “It’s go time, cher. Lisa called me on the way to the hospital. Sam’s driving her from the office. Her water broke about 9:30,” Benny explained, the nervousness slipping into his cadence.

    “Alright, I’m gonna clean up, you want me to drive?” Dean asked, gauging the unsteadiness in his usually stalwart husband.

    “That’s probably best, yeah,” Benny agreed. 

Dean leaned in and kissed him firmly, resting his forehead against Benny’s temple before pulling away.“Hey, we got this, alright? That kid is gonna be so spoiled having you for a daddy, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking, gonna have you wrapped around their finger before they can even crawl,” Benny teased back, inhaling with contentment.

Dean headed back to warn his coworkers that he had a baby on the way and to clean up enough to be allowed into a hospital. Jo followed Dean out into the lobby. Quickly, she hugged Benny before demanding regular updates to the group chat.

“Alright, get out of here, we’ve got you covered for the rest of the week. Let me know and I will put in paternity leave as soon as everyone’s home, okay?” Jo got all professional about things as Dean left.

“Oh, right, shit. Well, I guess I’ll let you know when you can come over and---,” Dean started before Benny pulled him by his elbow.

“We should be goin’” Benny urged. Dean looked at Jo one last time and nodded.

This was it.

   Dean held Benny’s hand the whole way to the hospital, their grip tightening every so often, grounding them both. Because Lisa was a friend and the surrogacy was looser than most circumstances, both Benny and Dean were allowed in the delivery room. They were the best cheerleaders a birth mom could have ever asked for. Seven hours later, one chubby baby girl entered the world screaming to high heaven and splitting her fathers’ hearts open for an entirely new level of love and devotion.

    Mary Andrea Lafitte-Winchester, or Drea for short, was a happy and healthy little girl. And an overprotective big sister to her twin brothers, Samuel Joel and Robert Fergus, who came along four years later.

Sunset

    They’re old men now. Dean is five years retired, while Benny works the register for their sons on the weekends. Both of their hands aren’t what they used to be. But they keep busy. Drea is bringing the kids round tomorrow, it’s the start of summer break and Dean’s been dying to teach her kids to fish.  

    Dean went grey after he turned fifty, but it hasn’t changed since, in color at least. Benny’s beard is as white as Santa Claus and he hides what little hair he has left under a cap. They’re both a little rounder, a little lower to the ground, but they got that way together and neither of them notice it on one another anyhow.

       Every year they visit Jesse and Cesar in Arizona for New Year's. Though they fly more than make the drive these days.

        They still take turns cooking the meals and the movie nights from their early days resurfaced into movie afternoons when their kids moved out. Dean can’t hear for shit anymore and, naturally, Benny makes fun of him for it. But Dean’ll put in his hearing aids if company is over.

 It’s early evening in the beginning of June and the bugs are orchestrating quite the soundtrack to their time on the porch. Dean pours his whiskey. Benny’s already sipping his sweet tea, his medications don’t let him drink much anymore. Jo’ll come by on Sunday, along with SJ and his wife and Robbie. Sam and Jess usually make it to every other dinner or so.

    “Hey there, handsome. Mind if I join you?” Dean teases, once a flirt always a flirt.

    “Not at all, cher. It’s a helluva view,” Benny glances at his husband, watches Dean take in the peaches and pinks kissing the slopes of the fields. They sit like that for an hour, until the dark is too thick to see through. Groaning and creaking they stand in turn. Dean keeps his hand on the small of Benny’s back as they head inside for the night, steadying them both.

    They moved their bedroom to the ground floor after Dean’s heart attack, a lot less worry about making it upstairs that way. After being married forty years, Dean still makes jokes about it being Benny’s place. But it’s always been his home. He kisses Benny goodnight, makes it a little saucy because he can. He’s the first to close his eyes.

    In the morning Benny makes waffles and tofu bacon. Dean pretends he can’t taste the difference, fooling no one. They make out while the sink fills for the dishes, too few to run the machine. Benny gets handsy first and Dean tries to squirm into the upperhand. They’re interrupted by a car pulling in the drive.

    “Busted,” Benny whispers.

    “You’re the one who wanted kids,” Dean grumbles against Benny’s neck, an old, unfounded retort.

    “Yeah, but the grandkids---,” Benny starts.

    “Were made to be spoiled,” Dean finishes and kisses Benny once more. Drea’s yelling at her kids to slow down before her dads even make it outside to greet them. Her eyes, blue as her daddy’s are tired. They don’t envy her the school aged years. Dean bends down as baby Deanna, who’s nearly four, comes crashing into his arms. He pulls her up and holds her tight, reminds him of her mama and he can’t help but get a little weepy over the passing years. 

    “It’s so good to see you, baby girl.” Benny pulls his daughter into a hug before helping with their bags. The older kids don’t come inside until it’s time to eat, climbing through the barn and splashing in the creek until they’re soaked. But Deanna sticks with her Grandpa on a simple stroll, while Pappy and Mama catch up.

    Dean still has the jacket he bought from Benny, though the pants are long gone. He’ll leave it to Robbie when the time comes, when his son finds himself a stud that’s worth settling down for. If that’s what he chooses. 

    For now, Dean lets his granddaughter pick up every rock and stick she finds and examines it to the nth degree. He explains what he can about each one. She’s very curious. He even lets her wipe her chubby little hands on his pants’ leg when she needs to. They get back to the house just in time to start dinner, but before they go inside Dean takes a mental picture of his husband on the porch, their daughter beside him and his granddaughter running past him.

   It is a helluva view after all. 

Tell me what you think?

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Tagging: @flamencodiva​​​ @dolphincliffs​​​ @dontshootmespence​​​​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​​​​ @fangirlxwritesx67​​ @dawnie1988​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​​​ @foxyjwls007​​ @tumbler-tidbits​​ @wingedcatninja​​​​ @defenderrosetyler​​​​ @ericaprice2008​  @crashdevlin​​​  @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary​​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @tatted-trina6 @lyarr24​

[ezgithechaotic]

The Parent Trap | Chapter One; two sides of the same coin

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

AU: The Parent Trap,  dad!harry

series summary:  Identical twins Benjamin and Edward, separated at birth and each raised by one of their biological parents, later discover each other for the first time at summer camp and make a plan to bring their wayward parents back together.

chapter summary: Benjamin and Edward tries to convince their parents that they aren’t children anymore, but it’s harder than they think.

author note: I’m sorry in advance if I have any fault. English is not my first language. But please let me know if you see anthing that doesn’t seem right. And an important note about Harry and Y/N; They probably won’t see each other for a long time. But I plan on mentioning their thoughts about each other from time to time as I did in this chapter. So, buckle up, It’s gonna be a long way :)

Please leave a comment about what you think, love you.

The Parent Trap Masterlist 

Between all the paperwork, Y/N was feeling like she could go crazy any minute. When she had decided to work from home, she didn’t think that anyone could reach her at any minute. It didn’t matter whether it was weekdays or weekends. She was either answering some phonecall from her customer or choosing the right fabric for her designs. Well, except the times she was with her son, Edward. 

Y/N loved her job. She started at a very early age, it would even be proper to say that she had nothing or no one but her family when she had started this job. Now, she was one of the best designers across the world. She truly loved her job. But if there was one thing she loved more than her job, it was her son. The only person who could brighten her after a long day in her study room. He was the best thing Y/N had. So, when he brought her a cup of hot coffee while she was dealing with her job's most boring side, paperwork, he brought the sunshine inside the room with him.  

When Edward knocked on the door she was so focused she didn't even hear it. So little boy quietly sneaked in and gently put the cup on the big desk. When Y/N realized, she looked up and saw her son, smiling at her. With his bright green eyes and long brown locks, Edward reminded everyone of his father. At least, the ones who knew him. Y/N was very cautious about her son’s and her private life. He was her treasure that she kept away from the whole world. 

"Since when are you serving coffees, young man?" Y/N smiled as she raised an eyebrow to her nine-year-old son.  

Edward shrugged and made himself comfortable at one of the leather sofas. "I thought you could use some break. I know you wouldn't stop if I didn't come in." 

"You know I don't need you to be the mother, it's my job." 

"It's not like I'm the mother every day. I'm okay with being the mother every once in a while. I know you love your job." Y/N got up from her chair as her son kept talking. Watching him talk was like watching a flower bloom. She would give everything to stop him from growing old. "Plus we have Nate to be the mother, I'm more like, the cool aunt of family." 

"Don't ever let Nate hear that. Poor guy would be devastated." 

"I think he would prefer my sassy remarks rather than yours." 

Y/N sat beside Edward on the leather sofa and raised an eyebrow. "What is that supposed to mean?" She couldn't help but laugh as her son giggled. "Well, you can be very mean sometimes, mom." 

"Ouch, I'm bruised, Eddy." 

Y/N hugged her son with one arm. He laughed as he let his mother embrace him. Edward loved physical contact even though he didn't show it. He loved resting his head on his mother's chest as they did nothing. He wasn't a very social child, he liked staying inside and being alone. He didn't have friends at his age and was never a team player unless he trusted the people around him. But with Y/N, he felt safe.

"I haven’t seen you around today."

"Well, it's because you spent your whole Saturday trapped in here. I planted those flowers in the garden with Nate today. It was fun until he started to give me lectures about being responsible." 

Y/N knew her assistant could be a bit much sometimes. But he still helped her a lot, not just as her assistant, but as her friend too. Edward loved him. He was one of the best friends Y/N had. Y/N knew growing up without a dad was hard for Edward. So she was grateful to him because, after her father, Nate was one the father figures for Edward. 

"You know he loves you." 

"Yeah, I know." 

They sat there in silence for a moment. Y/N closed her eyes as she stroked her son's hair and listened to his breathing.  

"Mom?" Edward said as if he was checking his mother. 

"Yes, baby?" 

"You know, my birthday is coming..." Y/N frowned but still kept her eyes close. 

"There are still two months until your birthday, you know. Not two days." 

"I know, mom." He rolled his eyes. "I was thinking... Since I'm turning ten this year maybe you could buy me a computer. I'm not a child anymore." 

"You will always be a child for me. Your age doesn't matter." 

"Moooom." 

Y/N laughed at his son's reaction. "I thought we talked about this before, honey. I'm not comfortable with you interacting with social media. People can be cruel." 

"I'm not saying I want to have a social media account or something. But, you know, it would be good to have a computer." 

Y/N took a deep breath. "I will think about it." She said and smiled. Edward hugged her with joy and thanked her for even considering it. Y/N knew people on the internet could be cruel. All she wanted was to protect him but she knew she couldn't keep him to herself until forever. He was already homeschooled and didn't have as many friends as children of his age. People were eventually going to find out. She knew it was inevitable. 

"If you want to be more social, you can always think about that summer camp that Zayn was talking about." 

"Mom, I don't want to be social. I don't need friends." 

"Friends can be very helpful. I had a lot of friends when I was your age." 

"We both know that they were Aunt Abby's friends." Edward laughed when he saw his mother's face. It wasn't wrong. Her big sister, Abigail, had been her best friend through childhood. And she was still her biggest supporter. "Plus, I have Becky. She's my age."  

"Becky isn't always around." 

"Yeah, because Aunt Abby isn't always around." 

Since Abigail was always traveling her daughter, Becky was traveling with her too. Becky was two years younger than Edward. And Edward loved his cousin like a sister. He was happy to be her big brother. 

"They won't be here for summer. So, you can always take the opportunity and go to that summer camp." Although Edward wasn't eager about it, his mother wanted him to have friends. "I will think about it." 

With that, Nate stuck his head through the open door and eyed two of them. "Sorry for interrupting your mom and son time. But are you guys hungry? Because I'm dying over here."

Y/N groaned as she rested her head against the sofa. "I'm starving."

"So, tacos?"

"You know I will never, ever say no to tacos," Edward said.

Y/N laughed but before she could answer her phone started to ring. She got up and found her phone inside the whole mess. "I need to answer this. Why don't you guys go ahead and order?" 

Before he got up, Edward looked at her mother with meaningful eyes. "You will think about the computer, right?" Y/N smiled and planted a kiss on top of his head. 

"I will, baby." 

While Edward made his way to the kitchen, Nate stayed back.

"How long are you planning on keeping it secret from him?" 

"As long as I can, Nate." 

"He deserves to know." 

Y/N took a deep breath. "I don't need a lecture about it. I know he will eventually ask. I will just let future Y/N deal with it." 

"This is one of the worst answers you've ever given." 

"You're being very helpful, Nate, thank you." 

"You're welcome." Y/N shook her head and answered the call as Nate returned to the kitchen. 

At the same time, Y/N made her way to the kitchen, Harry was walking towards Benjamin's room to wake him up, in a completely different country. 

Harry knocked three times on his son's door. Even though he knew it was going to take more than three knocks to wake Benjamin up, Harry still had faith. But Ben was still asleep at the other side of the white-painted door. After a second or two, Harry opened the door with a sigh. 

"It's time to wake up, buddy!" 

Benjamin was tangled between his dark blue sheets. His short curly hair lying on the pillow, his green eyes shut. It was still mindblowing how much he looked like his father. At times like these, Harry never wanted to wake him up. If someone looked at him from where he stood, they would think that he was an angel. The only thing was that his son was the devil himself. And he didn't know if he should be proud or disappointed.  

"Benny, breakfast is getting cold," Harry said as he opened the curtains. "Get up, now." 

Benjamin groaned into his pillow. If there was one thing he hated most, it was waking up. He was never a morning person. The resemblance between Benjamin and his mother always made Harry a little bittersweet. It was like the universe didn't want him to forget her. As if forgetting her was an option. She was in every song he heard or wrote. 

"Why can't I sleep more?" Benjamin asked, his eyes still closed. "Why do you have to be so cruel to wake me up at the crack of dawn?" 

"It's almost noon, Ben." 

"Well, still the crack of dawn." 

Harry laughed at his son's reaction. Benjamin had always been sassy, but he always found a way to people's hearth, especially Harry's. He was something Harry couldn't explain. Benjamin was everything Harry had and he would give everything up for him without a doubt. 

"So, should we let Jeffrey eat all the pancakes?" 

Benjamin peeked through one open eye with a smile on his face. "Pancakes don't sound so bad. I like Katty's pancakes." 

Katty was Benjamin's nanny and she usually helped Harry around the house with chores and dinner. She was one of the exceptional people around Benjamin. He liked her, and she helped him when he needed some woman influence. 

Benjamin never held back what he thought about the person across him. Whenever Harry found some nanny he either scared them with his pranks or his remarks. But Katty was the only nanny who could have fun with him rather than running away from him. She was more like a sister to Benjamin. And Harry was happy that Benjamin could trust Katty as much as he trusted Gemma. 

"Sorry, pal, you have to settle for my pancakes because Katty won't be here today."

Benjamin sighed. "So we're eating burnt pancakes, again?" 

Harry acted like he was annoyed. "You weren't saying that before Katty." 

"Because I didn't know chocolate chip pancakes existed." 

"You always have something to say, don't you?" 

Just like your mother.

" And I'm not even awake, yet. Think about the things I would say if I was awake." 

"You sound pretty awake to me, buddy." He let Benjamin free from all the sheets. "Time to get up."

After five pancakes and two glass of orange juice, Benjamin was awake more than ever. While he was playing a game on the big television, Harry and Jeffrey were talking about upcoming projects. 

"...for June we'll be recording the album and then you have that project with Gucci in July." 

"I thought we were going to go to Holmes Chapel and see grandma this June," Benjamin questioned, suddenly not so interested in his game. 

"I don't think we'll be able to do that, buddy. We'll be in Los Angeles." 

"Will Camille be with us?" 

Camille was Harry's current girlfriend. And Benjamin did not like her at all. After Y/N, Harry didn't have any relationship for a long time. Not just because he thought it would be hard for Benjamin if it didn't work out, but also he wasn't ready for getting heartbroken again. Camille was his longest relationship despite Benjamin's dislike for her. 

"Yeah, probably." 

Benjamin grunted with vexation and let himself fell on the couch again. 

"Do I have to be there?" Benjamin looked at his father with hope. "Can't I just stay with grandma?"

"A month is a long time Benny." 

"Yeah, dad, I know. That's why I don't want to spend it with Camille."

"I would appreciate it if you just tried to like her." 

"Or you could just send me to the summer camp I've been talking about." 

Harry took a deep breath. "We talked about this, Benny. I can't send you somewhere I've never heard before." 

"But Freddie is going too." Benjamin whined.

"What's up with this summer camp?" Jeffrey asked when he couldn't help his curiosity. 

"Something he heard from Freddie, I guess. He's been talking about it non-stop." 

"Why don't you just let him go?"

"You know why, Jeff."

"You're just being paranoid, Harry. Let him have some fun. It's already hard to be the son of a famous pop star." 

Jeffrey made Harry hesitate. He was right and Harry knew that. It was just scary to be away from him for more than a month. And since Benjamin wasn't a calm kid, it made it harder for him to decide. He wasn’t going to be there when things were going to go bad. But when he saw his son sitting there not even giving attention to the game all devastated, he couldn't help but say yes. 

"You can go as long as you promise to be nice." 

"Really?" 

"Really."

"You're the best, dad!"

Benjamin hugged him so tight and smiled so bright that it made every bad thought Harry had, vanish. He hugged his son back. Apologizing to him without words for everything he took away from him, for everything he could have if he and his mom hadn’t been so stubborn.

If he only knew that Benjamin would take everything back with a simple summer camp.