#Or if you absolutely need both POVs for the same moment in time then use omniscient POV

[amtrak12]

What's one of your writing/reading pet peeves? I'll go first:

Repeating the same scene from the other character's POV. I refuse to do it as a writer because I find it so boring as a reader 😩 POV is a zero sum game to me. You get one for each moment in time and that's it. The only time I'm on board with repeating scenes is in time travel or Groundhog Day plots.

[hannahbarberra162]

Fully Human, Chapter 3 (Sci Fi AU, Marco x Reader, dark, dead dove, non con, humans as pets)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3 | the other parts

Thank you to @tryingandfailingtowrite for the idea that the sensor can detect blood flow! Thank you to @jk--47 with reading through scenes and ensuring they fit the reader <3

A/N - I've been fixated this week but I can't maintain this pace for this work. I am nearly always thinking about Space Marco but I will be posting / updating other fics before I get back to this one again. Probably.

Marco POV

“What do we need to examine about her? If she tastes like she smells, she’ll be absolutely delectable,” Thatch said, his nostrils flaring. They could both smell the arousal building in you, the scent coming from your slick hole. Marco wanted to bury himself head first in your pussy and was sure Thatch felt the same way. Since the demise of humans, perfume had been made that smelled like human arousal. Females across the universe would douse themselves with the scent of human females but it was nothing compared to the real thing. Marco wanted to lap at you until you produced enough slick to drench his face. 

“She is in stable health, though not ideal. She is deficient in many vitamins that humans need, though it shouldn’t be too difficult to add them to her diet. Other than that, the clinical cuff and her blood tests show she is within normal range for a human of her sex and age. She’s within breeding years and is capable of bearing young.”

“So what’s left to check?” Thatch continued, his forked tongue flicking out over his snout. “Can’t we start breeding her?” For as much as the human had been crying, this time she made an accompanying wail and scrunched her face. Marco had liked all the noises she made thus far, but this one bothered him. He checked his data pad but there was no indication of her mood other than the general statement that she was nervous and scared, as she had been the entire time. It now also showed a small amount of arousal, but that was dipping as her sounds continued.

“Shh, quiet little human. We are not breeding you now,” Marco said, reaching up above to cup your cheek. You hiccuped a few times and your lower lip wobbled but your sounds ceased soon after his statement. Marco kept his hand there a few moments longer, savoring the feel of your heavenly skin under his own. You found comfort in being touched on your sweet face; Marco would save this information for later.

“How much do you know about female humans?” Marco asked his brother, trying to curtail his thoughts of your juices on his tongue.

“I know some,” Thatch hedged. Marco suspected he would based off Thatch’s own hDNA score. Thatch had almost no human weaknesses but it he would have done some research about his own origins. “I’ll be honest, I never spent that much time learning about the females and their reproduction. I never thought I’d ever see an actual human outside of vids, so I didn’t bother,” Thatch explained.

“Human females are quite different from other species in the galaxy, hence why they were so highly sought after. Like I mentioned, humans are a highly sexual species, they have to orgasm at least once a day, if not more. Females have multiple soft, tight holes to use and they can derive pleasure from all of them. They can mate multiple times a day, even if a male has filled her with his seed. The females have another inner pleasure site and if the rumors are true, can orgasm multiple times in a row,” Marco said, the information pouring out of him. Not only had Marco read everything that was factual about humans, he’d also read first hand accounts of beings who had a human of their own. There were many unsubstantiated claims about humans – particularly the females – and Marco wanted to test if any of them were true.

Thatch was speechless as Marco filled him in on the delights of humans, his eyes looking even more closely at your exposed core. A lot of the vids hadn’t been filmed with future audiences in mind, so the information Marco was sharing wasn’t always discernable from the old footage. You opened your mouth to protest something, but Marco placed the palm of his hand against your pussy. You shut your mouth, though you did glare at him. Marco gave you a pleased chirp. He was aware that he sounded stiff and formal through your outdated translator but he was happy to see you heed his order to stop yelling.

Marco was glad you’d responded so well to the light smack. He had read extensively about the means of taking care of humans and every guide had suggested several physical corrections for naughty or non compliant humans. Many of the guides had said that humans were prone to escaping, misbehavior, and general mayhem when they were adjusting to new settings and Masters. He’d keep an eye out for such things and modify your behavior accordingly if it was necessary. Part of him hoped that you’d be a good pet, but given your spirited attempt to get away, he wasn’t so sure that would be the case. He couldn’t deny that the descriptions of the corrections brought him a thrill, but he wouldn’t punish you without due cause. 

“Humans have many downsides as well. As you can tell, humans need a lot of care in order to survive. They need a primary mate to feel connected to, otherwise they languish or lash out. Humans tire easily, they sleep about a third to half of their lifespan. They also have no durability and are accidentally injured frequently. Their holes can expand quite a bit but there is an upper limit to the size a female can take. That’s what we’re measuring. She won’t be able to take all of our brothers, based on my current knowledge. If someone above her size range mates her, it might injure her, perhaps permanently.”

Which was one of the reasons why Marco hadn’t already started fucking you as you lay bound before him. He wanted to, gods he wanted to, but he wasn't a cruel master. He would find out if you could fit him in your body before he took you. Marco had waited his entire life for a human, he wasn’t going to destroy you before he could enjoy you.

“I’m going to stimulate you to orgasm before we start testing your holes,” Marco stated, facing you once more. Your eyes were squinting at him and your mouth was set in a thin line. He’d have to learn what each gesture and look meant, though he had seen this one enough to know you were displeased. You’d learn to enjoy the pleasure he would bring you, he knew you were still adjusting. Perhaps after the orgasm he’d bestow on you, you’d be more grateful to him.

Marco grabbed a small metal disc from his controller and tapped it once, the disc now hovering in the air near the both of you.

“You’re recording this?” Thatch asked, eyeing the disc. Marco nodded. Your attention snapped to the small disc as your pink tongue poked out of your mouth and licked your lips.

“Yes. I want to record our first experiences with her, including the measurements. That way there’s no naysaying or arguing later among our brothers.” That was Marco’s official reason, but he already knew a copy of these recordings would be going into his personal archive. 

His fingers quickly found your clit again, while his free hand rested on your inner thigh. Marco started rubbing your clit again, using the same stroking pattern as before. Since he’d already touched you previously, he was able to delve shallowly into your slit and use some of your own slick as lubrication for his fingers. He followed an impulse and stuck them in his mouth, unable to resist a taste of you. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head – nothing could have prepared him for the taste of you. Marco bit off the claws on his free hand, he was going to have his first feel of you. Marco moaned aloud before putting them back on your clit, starting his rhythm again. He started stroking down your hole as his other hand rubbed your clit, his thumb and forefinger spreading your inner lips apart. 

Even though you were still bound to the chair, your hips were trying to meet his hand even as you bit your lips shut. Marco wished he could hear more of your noises, but he wouldn’t guide you too much in this particular event. Later he'd adjust how you behaved when he mated with you, but he wanted to see your natural reactions. Besides, your legs were talking for you, the trembling increasing as Marco rubbed you in a particular way. You seemed to be producing enough slick to accept penetration, so Marco slowly pushed his primary finger inside you. 

Marco closed his eyes. He couldn’t - were you trying to get him to come untouched? He knew you hadn’t done anything but the feeling of your channel so tightly clenching just one of his fingers had precome leaking out of his throbbing cock. It was difficult to tell if humans were untried or not – there had been some readings that the first time a female took a male she would bleed – but other statements said that wasn’t always the case. In either case, you were incredibly tight and the way your cunt grasped his finger had him imagining his cock buried deep within you, pumping you full of his come. 

You whined as Marco’s finger reached its limit in your slick pussy, your tiny toes curling in on themselves. Marco pumped his finger in and out of you and you closed your eyes, your chest heaving. There was no need to test you on something as small as Marco’s finger – it would also help loosen you up for an accurate reading in a few minutes.

“You will take more, little human,” Marco told you, removing his finger from your pussy only to add his second along with the first. This time you were unable to quell your moan as he pushed into you. Marco’s fingers searched along your gummy walls for a rough patch, he had read many accounts of a secondary pleasure center buried within a female’s pussy.

“Where is it? Do not hide from me, little human,” Marco purred at you, his fingers soon brushing against a spot that had you squirming under his touch. He pressed on it again and your breath hitched as your pelvis titled. 

“There it is. Good girl,” Marco said, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. He had seen humans pressing their lips to their mate in a few vids and he wanted to enjoy the action as well. What he truly wanted was for you to initiate a lip press, but that was not possible at this juncture. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thatch had taken out his cock and was stroking himself to the sight of you being pleasured. Marco didn’t mind as long as he was the one providing you the pleasure. You were his, after all. Both by rules of the ship as well as the rules of engagement for humans. Thatch could join in, but you were Marco’s human.

Marco moved in a steady rhythm, one of his hands working your clit while the other pumped in and out of you like his cock would soon be doing. Your eyes were scrunched shut as your noises became louder, your fingers now curling much like your toes. Your cunt was spasming around his fingers and your clit had become engorged – you were close to orgasm. Marco sped up rubbing your clit while his other hand pressed on the spongy spot inside you. He pressed on it a few times until your cries rose in pitch, your hips tilting with every thrust he gave you. 

Your muscles all tensed and your fingers balled into fists as you moaned loud and low. Your eyes still were closed and sweat beaded on your forehead as you came on his fingers.. Marco continued stroking you as your cunt sucked his fingers in deeper, wishing every moment that it was his cock inside you. After you finished riding the high of orgasm, your pussy continued to pulse around his fingers every few seconds. Marco was reluctant to end the experience but your head was lolling off to the side. Did coming on his fingers take all the energy you possessed? Did you need to sleep already? How long had you been awake? 

“She’s so responsive,” Thatch noted, tucking one of his now flaccid cocks back into his pants. Marco hadn’t been watching Thatch but wasn’t surprised he was masturbating to the sights and sounds of your stimulation. Marco certainly wanted to. He removed his fingers from you, your slick coating them all the way down to the base of his palm.

On impulse, he stuck them not into his own mouth but your open one. The orgasm must have helped you become more in tune with your submissive nature because you obediently sucked your own juices. Marco groaned at the feeling of your hot little mouth around him. He was not prepared for how your tongue rolled around his fingers, your blunt teeth and soft, moist cavern, another ideal space for his cock. Truly, humans were nature’s perfect fuck toys. 

“All humans are, but I think she’s particularly receptive,” Marco agreed, trying to stifle his groan. Based on his research, there was a range of responses humans had to orgasm, but yours were particularly emphatic, much to his delight. “I’m going to pick her up to get her in position for measuring. Can you reset the chair to a table?” Marco asked. He could have done both tasks himself but he wanted to fully enjoy holding you for the first time. Thatch nodded as Marco removed his fingers from your mouth and pressed a few buttons on his controller.

Marco pushed his arms under your upper back and knees, scooping you up like a youngling. Since he was the one who made the bonds, he was able to manipulate and control them. You were so light, it would be no trouble to carry you once you tired. Maybe you’d let him carry you all the time once you settled into your new life. The thought had Marco burying his face into your soft hair, rubbing his cheek against the silky texture. Every part of you was made for petting and stroking, from your head down to your tiny painted toes.

Marco removed all the other cuffs aside from the ones around your ankles, wrists, and neck since they’d need them soon. Since the cuffs weren’t attached to the chair any longer, your wrists and ankles were quickly bound to each other to keep you restrained. He wished you didn’t have to be bound, but Marco feared you would injure yourself in an attempt to flee. In time you would see that he only wanted what was best for you, even if you didn’t agree. 

Your POV

You were still reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm as Marco stuck his fingers in your mouth. In your dazed state, you obediently sucked on his large fingers, tasting your own desire. You tried to push the event from your mind, the shame of coming on your kidnapper’s fingers too much for you to bear. It hadn’t even taken him long to make you come, his fingers working you to a fever pitch in minutes. You’d tried holding out, thinking of anything you could to stop the pleasure from building in you. But as soon as Marco pressed on that spot inside you, you were done for. You hadn’t even known it was there, much less how much pleasure you could feel from it. What else did Marco know that you didn’t? 

He certainly didn’t know as much as he thought he did about humans based on what he was telling Thatch. Even if he had been able to understand you, you weren’t sure he’d listen to what you’d say. Regardless, you’d need your energy to fight the measuring, whatever that entailed. Some of your bonds dissolved but before you could make a plan to do something about it, Marco had picked you up.

“Can you make her come again? You said she can multiple times, right?” Thatch said as he pressed on the underside of the chair. The chair shifted forms quickly, becoming a padded flat table in seconds. You gathered your strength to try and bolt for the door but your ankles and wrists were quickly bound together again. Damn it , they were keeping you completely bound. You’d have an opportunity for escape, but maybe not while two Whitebeard Commanders were watching you. You tensed as your brain processed Thatch’s words - that was not something you wanted from the creatures tormenting you.

“Not right now. Let’s finish what we need to and play with her later. I’m concerned she might need to rest soon, there’s no telling how long she’s been awake or when the last time she ate and drank was. I don’t want to harm her,” Marco said, burying his face in your neck. You tried to move your shoulder to your neck to deny his access but he was undeterred. Marco breathed in deeply, like he was sniffing you before flipping you over and putting you back down on the table. He separated your wrists and ankles, spreading them apart so you were on your hands and knees. The cuffs immediately locked in place once Marco was satisfied with your positioning on the bench. You tried tugging your hands free but they were just as steadfast as they’d been before. The bench was obviously made for much larger creatures, you took up less than half of the space.

“Humans prefer this position for mating, it will be the easiest for her,” Marco said, almost to himself as he trailed a hand down your back. You shifted, trying to get away in case he wanted to tickle you again. You were thankful that you weren’t as tightly bound as you were before, able to move a little bit to show discomfort or your reactions. Marco ran his hand down over your ass, gripping one cheek lightly before letting go. He walked over to a cabinet and rummaged around for something – you weren’t excited to find out what he needed. 

In the meantime, Thatch had come closer to you. His face was right in front of your own, staring at you with his yellow eyes. What did he want from you? You curled your lip and scowled, trying to show your disgust at his behavior. He had been masturbating while Marco made you come, his own fluids dripping onto his hands. Was he going to stick his come covered fingers in your mouth as well? The thought had you narrowing your eyes and snapping your teeth at him. He just grunted with a small smile.

“Everything she does is so cute I can hardly stand it,” he said over his shoulder to Marco. Marco was coming back towards you, carrying a bottle and three thin rods. 

“Mmh. It’s their defense mechanism,” Marco said with a snort, standing in front of your face after placing the rods and bottle on a nearby hover tray. “I’ll measure her holes but first I want to examine her breasts,” he said, his fingers reaching for your chest. You tried pulling in your shoulders and leaning back on your heels, but Marco caught the bond around your neck like a collar. 

“Stay where I place you,” he said, his eyes flashing. You decided not to put up a fight at this moment – you were still stuck on the table and it wasn’t like you’d get away if you disobeyed. Maybe the more docile you acted, the more they’d let their guard down around you. For now, staying put might benefit you most. 

You shivered as Marco’s hands found your breasts, cupping them for a moment before kneading and squeezing them tenderly. He rolled your nipples between his fingers, the stiff peaks sensitive to his ministrations. You shifted slightly, it felt too good to have your breasts played with this way. Not wanting him to see your reaction, you closed your eyes again. Blocking out Marco might be the only control you had at this point. Marco pinched one of your nipples and you bit your lips between your teeth to stop yourself from making noises. You pinched your own nipples when you were masturbating but no one else had. 

“Which reminds me, hand me that sensor,” Marco asked Thatch. Marco let go of your breasts  but you didn’t open your eyes, you didn’t want to know what they were going to measure. Your eyes flew open as you felt one of Marco’s fingers pushing something small and cold inside your still sopping pussy. 

“H-hey!” you said in a normal tone, more from surprise than fright. You looked up at Marco and cringed. You hunched in on yourself, you didn’t mean to say anything and get punished. Marco ran a hand up and down your ass after removing his long finger from inside you. Moving once again to stand in front of you, he tilted your chin so you were looking at him.

“Little human, I am not going to punish you for speaking. I will correct disrespectful behavior and actions, but I will not punish you for your own nature. I know humans are louder than other species. Do not speak impudently and you will not be punished. Do you understand?” he asked softly, his fingers stroking the column of your neck. You nodded slightly even though based on your personality, you weren’t sure you’d avoid punishment in the future. Marco’s eyes closed slowly before reopening, a pleased chirp emanating from him. That must be his version of a smile.

“I want her to make noises,” Thatch protested sullenly. 

“She will, but she cannot yell from anger or frustration. I cannot tolerate a poorly trained human,” Marco explained, tapping on his datapad again. “Her internal sensor is functional. It measures blood flow more specifically than the clinical cuff. This way I’ll be able to detect if she’s enjoying the sensations even if she tries to limit her sounds,” Marco said with a pleased chuff. Oh fuck, he was measuring your pleasure internally ? Your mind raced trying to think of any way to quell your reactions but if he was measuring your blood flow…

“Open your mouth,” Marco commanded, one of the three thin rods now in his hands. You narrowed your eyes – what was he going to do? Marco’s free hand gripped your jaw, which you took as a warning. You tentatively opened your mouth a little bit and Marco slipped the rod inside. He watched you for a moment as you looked at him, your brow scrunched with confusion. The rod started to increase in size, expanding steadily until it was now the thickness of your thumb. It showed no signs of stopping as Marco started tapping on his data pad.

“Why’re you using a wound measurer in her mouth?” Thatch asked, familiar with the tool. It was a little strange, but Marco wanted to know how much you could bear without getting hurt. The rods were designed to test size and depth of wounds the crew sustained during fighting. When the rods were placed in an opening, they would expand to fit the area until they detected pain from the user. Then Marco would have an accurate assessment of how many supplies would be needed if repair was needed. They were a helpful tool that Marco used in the infirmary with regularity. They weren’t designed for measuring human's holes but in theory it should give him a fairly accurate representation of which brothers you’d be able to safely take in your body. He wasn’t going to have it expand to fit the entire cavity of your mouth, it would stay cylindrical for the best approximation of a cock.

“To see what her size limits are. She’s definitely going to be able to take some of us in her mouth, based on the initial projections from the measurer,” Marco said, now watching you intently. His teal tongue licked his beak like mouth as if in anticipation of his cock inside it.

Oh fuck that. 

You pushed the smooth rod out of your mouth with your tongue before it got too big  – there was no way these fuckers were going to measure how much cock you could take. Marco’s eyes narrowed as the rod fell to the table with a soft thud. He picked it up and looked you in the eyes. 

“It was my error not to inform you of what would happen. Open your mouth and do not push it out again,” Marco commanded, tapping your cheek with one finger. You clenched your jaw shut and glared at him. Marco's eyes blinked back at you.

“Very well.”

Marco POV

It had taken less time than he anticipated for the human to begin pushing boundaries. This one was spirited, much more so than humans he’d seen on vids. He couldn’t deny that meting out your punishment brought excitement – he wasn’t sure his erection would ever recede around you. 

Still, your defiance required immediate correction. Marco sat down on the empty portion of the bench behind your appealing ass. He was much taller than you, his feet easily able to rest on the floor. You strained to look at him from over your shoulder, but you were able to contort your body in such a way that you were able to scan his face. Your jaw settled in even harder as you took in his stern expression. Marco held his disappointed expression, though he wanted to pinch your little cheek. Thatch was right, everything you did was cute, but he needed to show you that you weren’t going to win in a battle of wills. Marco was about to show you why. 

You squeaked in surprise as Marco leaned over and grabbed you off the table. He easily positioned you the way he wanted, which was bent over his lap. Your ass was now hiked in the air over one of his thighs, your arms pinned behind your back by one of his hands. Your bonds snapped your wrists and ankles together again, he didn’t want you flailing and accidentally injuring yourself. Marco rubbed the palm of his hand over your smooth ass, building anticipation for what was about to happen. You were wriggling your torso, your little mouth open in anger. It was too late to open your mouth now, Marco thought.

“When I give you a command, you are expected to obey. Defying my will earns you punishment,” Marco explained calmly. He continued to rub your ass, letting his fingers trail down into your slick folds. You said something acidic in reply that was surely rude, but Marco didn’t hold it against you. He wasn’t able to understand you by his own actions, he couldn’t be fully certain what you said. Moreover, it was clear no one had curbed your behavior before, had shown you that you weren’t in control. Based on how your willful reactions to him, Marco didn’t think you had a previous Master. So how you came to be on the merchant ship and why you had a flinch reflex were still problems to be solved – later. With that thought in mind, he brought his hand down on the fleshiest part of your ass. Your body tensed and your mouth opened as if in shock. 

“Like I told you previously, good girls get rewarded and bad girls get punished,” Marco said with a shrug. You whipped your head forward, trying to ignore him. Marco didn’t mind, you could try. It wouldn’t get you far.

Several minutes later and you were crying, your skin now hot and flushed where Marco had spanked you. He hadn’t kept his strikes just on your ass either. He’d spanked your delightful ass, your sensitive sit spots, and even the tops of your thighs a few times. As he expected, your blood pooled where he had spanked you, changing the color of your skin to a lovely new hue. Marco rubbed his hand over your heated skin, savoring the feeling as well as providing you comfort. His nostrils flared, was that the smell of your arousal?

His fingers lightly stroked through your folds as he rubbed you, finding you even wetter than before. Marco’s eyes widened as he checked his datapad – you were finding enjoyment from the punishment. He had no doubt you were unhappy being spanked, yet your discipline was leaving you wanting. Interesting.

“Marco, come on, she’s had enough,” Thatch said, trying to stymy Marco’s punishment. Marco could see by the way Thatch’s tail was twitching that he felt bad for you. But Marco wasn’t going to relent, it was important for him to establish his dominance early on. You were still exclaiming with every spank he delivered, babbling in your human language. He was guessing you were asking him to stop but he had no way to know.  He’d watch the recording later and determine what it was you were saying. The jiggle of your skin only made him think of fucking you after a spanking, feeling your warm skin bouncing against his thighs as he thrust into you. 

“No. She has earned this for herself. She’s not injured, she’s merely uncomfortable. If she wishes to disobey, this is the consequence. She will still be examined, just with a sore bottom,” Marco explained. 

“Besides, our little human is enjoying being shown her place. Isn’t that right?” he asked, rubbing a hand between your shoulder blades. Your thighs clenched together as blood pooled on both sets of your cheeks. 

Your breath was hitching and mucus drained from your nose as you held yourself up with your back muscles. You were putting on quite the show, but Marco wasn’t finished. He knew what he was waiting for based on the readings he’d done. Marco brought his hand back down on the top of one of your thighs and your wailing commenced once more. He smacked your delectable ass and thighs over and over, making sure he didn’t truly hurt you. 

A few minutes later and you slumped over on his lap. You’d exhausted yourself railing against him and had no more fight left within you. You were now going to take whatever Marco doled out to you, just as he wanted. Marco smiled to himself at your submission, you made quite the pretty picture laid out over him, the marks he’d made apparent on your flesh. And as he rubbed his fingers through your slit, your slick juices told him he’d made the correct choice. He smacked your ass once more, the hardest slap yet. He was now done.

You were still crying quietly as Marco sat you up on his lap. He wiped your tears and mucus off your face since your hands were still bound behind your back.

“You are forgiven for your disobedience. Shall we commence the examination once more?” he asked, looking at your splotchy face. You gave him a doleful look and dropped your gaze, nodding your bowed head. 

“Excellent choice.”

Your POV

You couldn’t believe it. Marco had spanked you. Like an errant child.

He had thrown you over his legs, your ass high in the air. You tried to squirm out of his hold but he was able to keep you in place easily with one hand resting on your lower back. You tensed, waiting for his strike as he softly stroked your skin. You'd been hit before, you could tank it. But nothing could have prepared you for the sting of his hand crashing down on you.

He didn't spank you once or twice like you’d been expecting. Marco had spanked you until you could feel your heartbeat in your skin. His hand smacked your ass, your thighs, and your sit spots so many times you thought he would never relent. You weren't sure you'd be able to sit down for the next few days.

At first you tried to show no emotion whatsoever. It was just a spanking, how bad could it be? You gritted your teeth and tried to bear it with as much dignity as you could. He wasn’t going to break you, you’d endured so much in your life already. 

You didn’t last long. 

After a few minutes, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out. It did hurt, quite a lot. And the pain was compounding on itself, building higher and higher every time Marco’s hand made contact with your hot skin. He wasn’t spanking you in regular intervals either, he would spank you a few times then take a break, as if to admire his own work. Each time it gave you hope that you were done, that your punishment was over – only to wail when he started up again.  It wasn’t like anyone besides the two in the room were going to know you were crying, so you allowed yourself that small comfort.

But the worst part of it all was that you could feel yourself getting wetter. You didn’t know why, you didn’t like the feeling of him spanking you. You tried clenching your thighs together to try to hide your arousal but Marco’s fingers found your slick pussy easily. You dimly heard Thatch trying to intercede but you couldn’t focus on what they were saying, only on your burning hot flesh and Marco’s hand. 

“Besides, our little human is enjoying being shown her place. Isn’t that right?” he asked silkily, rubbing a hand between your shoulder blades. Your face burned as much as your ass – he wasn’t just spanking you, this was total humiliation. You didn’t want to enjoy it, you couldn’t explain why your body wasn’t listening to your brain. 

All too soon Marco returned to spanking you relentlessly. Sure, you’d been punished before on Lafftale, but nothing like this. You quickly gave up on anything except trying to survive. You cried, snot running down your face. You begged Marco to stop, to not spank you so hard, to leave you alone, that you'd do what he wanted -- nothing worked. Your skin burned until you couldn’t bear it any longer, you couldn’t take one more spank from him.

You went limp over his legs.

That seemed to be what Marco was waiting for, your complete submission to his will. At this point you didn’t care if he put the rod back in your mouth, you just wanted the spanking to end. He gave you one last smack, the harshest one yet. Your body jolted but you otherwise didn't react.

You were still crying quietly as Marco sat you up on his lap. You laid your head against his chest, allowing him to move you about like a limp doll. 

“You are forgiven for your disobedience. Shall we commence the examination once more?” he asked, wiping your face with a disposable towel. You nodded your head, unwilling to meet his gaze. 

“Excellent choice.”

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @rebeccawinters @joyfullittlethings

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Epilogue: True Love Is Hard To Find

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is the epilogue of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series.

Word Count: 12.2K

Warnings:  I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy. Vomiting, Dark/Depressing thoughts, Heartbreak, FLUFF, FLUFF, and oh did I mention FLUFF, Sexual innuendo, Self-deprecating thoughts, Drinking, Cursing, Some references to past trauma, References to past sex,  Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Song lyrics are bold, italics, and are in red. The lyrics come from "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love," by Russ Colombo (can be found at the link). This is the song I based the series on and it really is wonderful to listen to.

A/N: Well guys, we made it. Just remember that this isn't goodbye, it's I'll see you in a little while.

Five Months Later…

"Is it time to go yet?" Ben murmurs into your ear, his breath rustling against the hair he tucked carefully behind it moments ago, his hand pressing into the small of your back.

The sounds of clinking glasses, laughter, and small chatter ebb and flow over the crowded art gallery, the white walls a subtle backdrop to the colorfully dressed people, waiters, and the canvases that hang on the walls.

Women in elegant dresses stand at different sized paintings while men dressed in casual suits and ties stand beside them in stoic contemplation, their eyes following the gentle brushstrokes that cover the canvases hanging in succession against the bland backdrop.

Waiters dressed in simple suits with silver trays of food and pastries weave through the crowded room, offering treats to whomever they stop by, while a bartender sits at a large wooden bar designed to fit into the venue serving drinks to patrons and pouring multicolored liquids into glasses.

It had been five months since Ben came back, five months since you said goodbye to Homelander, and five of the happiest months of your life.

The first month following Ben's return, you had taken him to the house in Maine, figured that you both could use a vacation and spent your days sunning on the beach together and curled up in bed making up for the time that you lost when Ben was gone. You weren't complaining, not when every day you felt the same way as when you'd woken up the day after your birthday, not when each time Ben kissed you felt like the first time, and not when every time he touched you it felt like you were filled with sunlight. You felt warmer, lighter, happier, and being with him was even more wonderful than you remember.

Every day was fused with wonder and expectation and every night Ben made you feel more loved than you ever had. You were so blissfully happy that you had forgotten the past and were excited for what the future would hold for the two of you.

Lou, Rosemary, and Ryan had come after a few weeks to spend time with Ben and you at the house. Lou was ecstatic that Ben was staying in your lives and spent every moment with him on the beach having him help her make sandcastles and look for shells and shiny rocks that were rubbed smooth by the waves.

Rosemary was still icy towards Ben, but you knew that she was starting to get used to him being around. All you hoped was that one day she would warm up to him, but it was a little less awkward between the two of them. She was at least calling him by his name and she could stand to be in the same room as him. When Ben read the paper in the mornings at the breakfast table off of the large kitchen at the house, Rosemary drank her coffee quietly and read through a paperback, you painted in your watercolor pad absentmindedly, and Lou tried her best to copy you all the while making small talk with Ryan who sat beside her.

Ryan was living in the spare room in Rosemary's apartment and despite being corrected, Lou referred to Ryan as her older brother every chance she got, something that always made Ryan brush bright red. At first Rosemary and you had been wary about bringing in a blossoming teenager in to her home, not to mention a blossoming teenager that had the ability to level a small building if he wanted to, but Ryan seemed to like living there and he didn't cause any unnecessary trouble. Butcher came by every week to take Ryan out of the apartment to give Rosemary a break and Ryan was always happy to go with him.

That was something you weren't sure about. Yes, you liked that Butcher had such a big influence in Ryan's life, but you didn't like how often he came by. You weren't sure you trusted him with what he knew about Lou's powers that only seemed to grow by the day since their development. Every time Lou watched something with a supe in it she started exhibiting a new ability, but she seemed to be able to turn them on and off at will.

Which was good. She also seemed to understand the idea that it wasn't good to show them in public. There were a few slip ups, for example when Ben and you took Lou for ice cream one day. she got so excited when she received the cone that she started levitating a few inches off the ground and another time she threw a temper tantrum at the grocery store and stomped her foot so aggressively against the ground that the entire building shook.

The looks she got when she did both of those things were the same looks you got when Lou called Ben and you "grandpa" and "grandma" in public.

But she was doing better and with Rosemary's ability to touch Lou and get the power Lou was exhibiting, Rosemary had been able to show Lou how to control some of the abilities better than others.

Ryan also helped. He was old enough to babysit Lou when there was no one else, comforting because now that Lou had powers you didn’t trust anyone else to be around her and didn't trust that Vought had forgotten. Ryan was just starting school, a school just a few blocks from Rosemary’s apartment where he could feel like a real kid, and was already struggling through math. When he asked Ben for help Ben had replied that Ryan didn’t need it and the only thing Ryan should focus on was sports.

Ben was no longer allowed to offer Ryan education advice and Butcher and you both tried your best to help Ryan with math instead. You’d also told Ryan not to listen to someone who got kicked out of every boarding school he ever went to, which only made Ben smack you on the ass and say "it takes one to know one" while Rosemary mimed vomiting in the kitchen.

You had asked Rosemary if she wanted to get a new apartment, big enough for everyone so you could be around 24/7 to help her, but she’d complained and said that she was too old to be living with her parents.

She was right, but you still tried your best to be around to give her a break whenever she needed one.

Of course it wasn’t all good in those five months.

Rosemary quit her job at the hospital after everything happened with Homelander and didn’t tell you that she’d gotten a new one working with Butcher on his team. When you’d confronted her about it she’d told you that it wasn’t a big deal, but to you it was. You had spent the past 40 years of Rosemary’s life keeping all the supe shit separate, but now she was diving in head first. You’d had a fight, a bad one, one of the worst the two of you had ever had and you’d spent three days in bed crying to Ben who held you tight and didn’t let you go. When Rosemary had finally showed up three days later, her own eyes red and rimmed with dark circles beneath you knew she was just as upset as you were. And then she told you why she did it.

It wasn’t because of Butcher, it was because of Homelander.

Rosemary was guilty, frustrated with herself because she had been unable to keep Lou safe from him. Rosemary said that she felt like she had been hiding her entire life, turning her back on a piece of herself, and that she needed to do this. She felt like a failure, worthless, and that she needed to embrace who she really was. So you tried to be supportive all the while contemplating if you should follow her on missions to make sure that she was okay.

But that seemed a little obsessive so you held yourself back.

It was going well and honestly, Rosemary seemed happy. Not to mention Butcher liked having her around for medical assistance if there was a problem in the field.

Ben was working for Butcher too, something else you also didn't agree with, but at least now you didn't have to worry about Rosemary as much. You knew that Ben wouldn't let anything happen to her, but you also didn't love that you now had both of them to worry about. Sometimes you thought about working for Butcher too, but after everything that happened with Homelander, Stan, Noir, and your old team, you were happy to immerse yourself in your art again, to dive in to your creativity and let it wash away any of your worries and pain that rose in the aftermath of the everything that had happened five months ago.

You'd told Ben that he didn't have to work, told him that the both of you had more than enough money for a few centuries, but for Ben it was bigger than that. He wanted to work, thought that it was his job to provide for the both of you, his job to take care of you, and you didn’t want to argue with him about that. It was difficult to say no to him, not when he was just as happy as you were, and not when he was giving you everything you said you wanted all those years ago the night you saved Noir. He had given you a home, someone who loves you, and someone to come home to and it was more wonderful than you could have ever imagined. He gave you everything he promised and more.

Sometimes when you were together, he'd get a look on his face like he had no idea how it happened, and you weren't too sure either, but you were so happy that you didn't care. The things you'd daydreamed about all those years ago, of Ben and you living together and being in love dulled in comparison to the real thing. You'd never seen Ben smile as much as you had in the past five months, never seen him so full of life and happiness in all the years you'd known him, and you wanted him to be that way every day for the rest of his life.

And you had never been as inspired to paint as you were now, hence the art show Ben and you were currently attending.

Rosemary, Lou, and Ryan were taking it easy for the evening and you didn’t blame them. Rosemary had just come back from an overnight trip with Butcher's team from somewhere in the South and stated she needed to relax. You’d graciously offered to take Ryan and Lou with you, but she’d waved you off. Said that it was alright and that Ben and you should enjoy yourselves.

You think that working together also helped Ben and Rosemary get more comfortable interacting, but there was still some tension that you hoped would fade in the coming years. It was better than it had been. You were also worried about them working with Butcher's team because of what you'd done to them at Vought, but so far there didn't seem to be a problem. In fact, Rosemary and Annie were becoming friends, which made you happy because Rosemary had friends, but none who she could be one hundred percent honest with about who you were and the powers she had. With Annie, Rosemary didn't have to pretend.

Grace Mallory called every week to check in and keep you updated on Homelander's progress. He was still the same as he had been five months ago, but she was getting a new doctor to come take a look at him, someone who was well versed in memory loss and you hoped he was able to figure it out. Not that you really wanted old Homelander to come back, but because you didn't know where to go from here. You knew that if Homelander ever got out, the first thing he would do was find Compound V, and then come after your family.  But it still felt weird to kill someone who didn't remember the things they had done.

Sometimes you wished that it could have been different, but if this was how it always ended up you wouldn't change a thing, because it meant that you might not be here with Ben.

You smile up at Ben, adjusting his dark tie with a steady hand and smoothing out the collar of his black suit. "We've been here for twenty minutes. And it was you that wanted to come to my show."

Ben grins. "Maybe I just wanted to see you all dressed up sweetheart. Have I told you how beautiful you look?"

He had, several times before you left your apartment. Not to mention you'd walked out of the bedroom and into the living room Ben had all but tackled you onto the couch and made the both of you late because you had to redo your makeup.

Your dress was maroon, backless, and had capped sleeves that fell off your shoulders to curve just over your biceps. It was cinched at the waist and fell elegantly to your feet that were encased in a pair of black heels that made you almost tall enough to reach Ben's shoulders. There was a new necklace hanging around your neck, one that Ben had gotten you for your one month anniversary. It was a kite cut emerald about the size of the end of your pinky. You still had the pearl necklace that Noir had stolen from you, but now when you looked at it, you felt sad and didn't remember your father. Not to mention the pearl necklace that Ben gave you as a replacement was still in pieces from the night that you both wanted to forget.

So he'd gotten you this one and you loved it, because it reminded you of Ben's beautiful eyes, the same ones that were focused on you right now, shining in the light of the gallery.

Ben looked better than you did, then again you always thought he did. He was wearing a sharp black suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie. Every time you looked at him you couldn't believe he was all yours. You wondered if he felt that way whenever he looked at you.

"I can't leave early, it’s my party remember? It would be rude to-"

He leans in again, his hand tightening on your waist. "I'd much rather take you home and congratulate you myself."

Ben doesn't miss the shiver that travels down your spine with his words, eyes shifting to the goosebumps that erupt on your arms. "Come on doll, I could go get the car right now." He purrs pressing a kiss just under your left ear, feeling your resolve begin to waver, which was already hanging by a thread. Ben never needed to do much to persuade you, but you noticed that when it came to you Ben also had a hard time saying no. And you loved how easily you worked him.

“Didn’t you congratulate me before we left?” You murmur kissing along his sharp jaw. “And this morning?” You drag your hands up his chest feeling a low groan vibrate through his rib cage. “And last night?”

“Are you complaining doll?” His eyes glint mischievously, smirk pulling at the end of his lips.

“No. Because I happen to like congratulating you too.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to congratulate you.” Ben nudges his nose against yours, before fitting his soft lips over your mouth. The subtle scratch of his well trimmed beard tickles against your cheeks as he deepens the kiss, his hand pressed against the small of your back, securing you against his strong body.

It was moments like this that made you want to melt into him, to let him take everything you were, and everything he was and mold them together as one. Ben was everything to you and now that you knew what it was like to have him not be in your life, you were never going to let him go.

"Ben." You smile, gently laying your hand on his cheek, feeling the coarse hairs of his beard scratch against your palms. "Please, just another hour at least."

"Sweetheart-"

You stand up on tip toe, so you can whisper in his ear while holding tight to his right shoulder. "Baby please. One more hour and then you'll have me all to yourself."

"Promise?" Ben murmurs, eyes darkening with your proposition.

"I promise."

Ben smiles pleased, and turns back to survey the crowds chattering about the paintings you had done, his arm wrapped around your waist.

The different sized canvases on the wall were awash with colors. The theme was "Out With the Old and In With the New," inspired by a trip Ben and you had taken to Philadelphia, but also you saw it as a new beginning, a way for the two of you to shake off the shadow of the past and move into the future together. He'd wanted to see how much Philadelphia had changed and you hadn’t been there since your brother’s funeral.

The two of you had spent the week going to places you knew all too well before you became supes. Some of the buildings were still there, while others had vanished into obscurity. Ben's family estate was still just as you remembered it. He was still technically the owner, but you didn't want to make him stay there, not when you knew about the scars that clung to the walls and creeped along the staircases. He had stepped foot inside, the musty smell wafting out through the open doors, the dust swirling in clouds with every unsure step he took. Ben's father had died a few years before Ben went to Russia, and despite all the ways Ben disappointed him, Ben's father still left him everything.

When Ben stood just in the entryway of the mansion you could see the weight settle on his shoulders once more, the weight his father put there and pressed into him. The last time the two of you had been there was when Ben's father died, but you hadn't been able to comfort Ben the way you wanted to then. This time you took him into your arms and pressed his head into your shoulder, trailing your fingers into his hair, and holding him close to you. Ben put it up for sale before the two of you left, and you were more than happy to see it go.

Your family home was still standing, but inhabited by your distant relatives from your brother's side of the family. You hadn't tried to make a connection with them since you vanished forty years ago and didn't want to insert yourself into their lives now. You had everything you needed, you had a family, and you had Ben.

The canvases on the walls were born from what you found remaining in Philadelphia, the city that rose from the one you used to know so well. Each painting was an amalgamation of your memories of the Philadelphia from your youth painted in shades of gray and what replaced it, rose from the canvas in splashes of bold color as if rising from the ashes. It was one of your best shows, and judging by the chatter you had heard and how excited your agent and the curator was you knew that there weren't many canvases left over. Your favorite was hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room, the centerpiece of the entire show.

 It was painted from the memory of the day Ben and you sat on the warm soft grass by the pond at Fairmount park. In the painting two people sat on the bank, the boy half turned to stare at the girl with a flower tucked into his jacket pocket and the girl half turned, her face pointed down focusing on a watercolor pad  in her lap while her hair fell forward, but the audience could still see her smile and the boy's smirk. They sat in a haze of black and white while the new park swirled out from them in bold colors.

Ben hadn't seen it until you showed up to the gallery a few moments before the show opened. You'd kept it a surprise, only working on it whenever he was working, and his reaction was worth it. As soon as he saw it Ben had stopped dead in his tracks just within the front doors as if he couldn't believe it, his gaze focused on the picture. You'd asked him if he liked it and in response he had grabbed you and kissed you so fiercely in front of your agent and the curator that both of them walked away to give you some privacy. You were still buzzing from that kiss, well, the kiss and what Ben had done to you on the couch before you left your apartment together.

"I'm going to go get a drink." Ben glances in the direction of the bar before looking back at you. "Do you want something?"

"No, I'm okay right now. Thanks though."

He presses a kiss into the top of your head before he vanishes into the crowd. You prepare yourself for the wave of loss you feel whenever Ben leaves. It had only gotten worse after months of spending time together. When he went out of town it was almost unbearable, but he did try his best to keep you posted, by calling you whenever he could. Sometimes you worried that you needed him too much, that he thought you were being too clingy, but every time you tried to consciously pull back it was Ben that always doubled his efforts to be around you, almost as if he was trying to make up for you toning it down. It reassured you that Ben wanted you there and genuinely wanted to spend time with you.

"Y/n!" You hear a familiar voice say and you turn your head to see your friend Levi making his way through the crowd. His dark curly hair hangs over his shoulders in gentle waves and he's wearing a black button down shirt that he's rolled up to his elbows revealing the patchwork of ink covering every square inch of his golden skin. Levi was also an artist that showed at the gallery, which is how the two of you met. Over the years you had each gone to each other's shows and then out to dinner to celebrate. He was a good friend, but you knew he had feelings for you.

You had forgotten that he was going to be here, hadn't thought about it, and hadn't told Ben. An important thing that you should have told him because Levi is the man that you'd almost slept with.

It had almost happened two years ago and you had come to Levi's show, a collection of recycled sculptures that had stunned New York City. The two of you had gone out to dinner as you always did and after, Levi had leaned in to kiss your cheek to say goodbye, but you'd turned at the wrong moment and he'd caught your lips. The both of you had frozen outside the darkened restaurant, the sounds of the city rising around you, his dark brown eyes catching and holding your gaze. You don't know why you did it, maybe because you'd been lonely for so long or maybe because Rosemary had told you that you needed to start trying again, that she was worried about you being alone, so you kissed Levi.

You weren't sure how you ended up back at his apartment in his bed, but you'd stopped him just before you had sex. You told him that you couldn't do that, that you didn't think that you could be what he wanted, and that you were sorry. It had felt wrong to give him hope, only to take all away again. For you to do that had reminded you of the hope Ben had given you when you finally slept with him and how hollow you were when he broke your heart and told you that you meant nothing.

You refused to do that to someone else. 

Levi had been confused, but he'd respected you, told you that you didn't have to apologize for anything. Unfortunately since then it had been a little bit awkward, because you knew he still had feelings for you, not to mention he'd seen you naked.

"Levi!" You smile back at him

He pulls you in for a hug, holding on to you for a second longer than he should. "How are you? I haven't seen you around and you didn't come to my show. I was worried."

"Oh I was out of town for a little bit." You wave a hand. "Kinda last minute."

"Oh. Well, I guess you weren't too busy for this." He gestures to the canvases on the walls. "They're gorgeous. I think this is my favorite show of yours."

"You say that after every show."

"And you say that at every one of my shows."

"Because it's true." You roll your eyes at Levi. "Your work gets better with age-"

"I could say the same thing to you." Levi runs a hand through his tangled dark hair. "Come on, you have to tell me the truth."

"What?"

"Were you an art prodigy or something? You can't be much older than me and your work is just insanely mind-altering."

If only he knew.

"Nope. I've just been practicing a long time." You smile to yourself at the inside joke.

"So unfair. I hate you, you know that right." Levi grins.

"Oh please. If anything I should hate you. I've never been good with sculpture."

"I told you that I would be available for lessons anytime."

"I'll think about it."

Levi glances around the room at all the people. "You know, I think they make a bigger deal about your shows than mine."

"Green isn't a good color on you Levi." You snort at him.

He only smiles. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

You freeze. It was the same thing that Ben had asked you moments ago before Levi showed up. Except when Ben said it you couldn’t help but smile and blush, but when Levi said it, it just was weird.  "No. But it's alright." You smile awkwardly.

"Did you-" He clears his throat sensing the shift in conversation. "Did you want to get dinner after your show?"

The two of you hadn't had dinner since the incident two years ago, instead you had gone for coffee, because it felt less intimate and more like something the two of you could do as friends. You didn’t think that you would fall into bed with him if you were fully caffeinated. But it still made you feel bad because you thought you were leading him on, even when you told him exactly what you wanted.

"I know we haven’t in a while, but I miss you." Levi's eyes soften. "I know that what happened was a little awkward, but we can still be friends. Or maybe we can talk this out and you can tell me why you think doing this would be bad.” He gestures between the two of you. “Because we have so much in common and I really like you. And I think you do like me, but you just won't admit it-“

"Levi-" You begin to say, trying to think of a way to let him down easy, again, because he still didn’t seem to understand.

Ben's muscular arm weaves around your waist, pulling your hips back into his where he stands behind you as soon as you begin to answer, the warmth of his body like a shock to your system. He's got a glass of scotch in his free hand and he's staring at Levi with an unreadable expression.

Ben kisses you on the cheek, lingering for a second too long for it to be casual, blatantly marking his territory.

"What did I miss?" Ben says it as if he couldn’t hear the entire conversation from the bar, but you knew he had.

Levi’s eyes widen at Ben’s appearance and flick to you as if looking for an answer. Ben downs the glass in one gulp, placing it on the tray of a waiter who passes by.

“Ben, this is my friend Levi. Levi this is-“

You hesitate for a moment. Calling Ben your boyfriend felt wrong sometimes. Your relationship felt different to just say that he was your boyfriend, it didn’t seem to be enough, not to mention you felt like Ben was a little old to be your boyfriend, just as you felt a little old to be his girlfriend. Calling him your everything felt more appropriate, but it was too intimate for someone to know other than Ben.

“Ben.” Ben says extending his free hand to grasp Levi’s in a death grip, and you see Levi wince sightly when Ben tightens his grip. “Her husband.”

If you’d been drinking something you would have done a spit take right then and there. The word coming out of Ben’s mouth was foreign and so out of the blue the two of you might as well be swimming in the middle of a cobalt colored sea. The two of you hadn't spoken about that at all. It had never come up in conversation, even when the two of you took a walk around Rosemary's block and passed a jewelry store with a display of engagement rings. In fact the only time that you'd mentioned that you wanted to marry someone was the night that Ben almost killed Noir forty years ago and Ben made a joke about the two of you getting married. It had hurt when he did, it felt like he was mocking you, like he thought that it wasn't important.

That night you'd asked Ben if he wanted to marry someone and he said "maybe." You weren't sure if that was because Ben didn't believe in marriage or if he thought it wasn’t necessary, but to you things like that were important. You were old-fashioned and you wanted to marry Ben, you wanted to be his wife, but Ben hadn't proposed or stated that he wanted to marry you.

That could be your insecurity about being too clingy or your insecurity that Ben would pull away from you rising all over again, but you weren't sure if Ben cared about being your husband.

And yes maybe you were expecting a proposal sometime in the future, but it still hadn't happened and a part of you was worried that because it had not happened yet, it never would. Mostly because you couldn't think of what he was waiting for. He'd said that he never wanted to leave you ever again, told you that he wanted to give you everything you wanted, told you that he'd never love anyone else the way that he loved you, and yet there hadn't been talk to marriage. Not to mention you had told him that you loved him and that you'd never leave him and that you couldn't live without him.

Yes, you were living together, sharing a bank account, and spending every waking moment of your lives together, but there had been no discussion about him marrying you.

Which is odd because why did he tell Levi that we were married? Was he just trying to think of something official to make him back off?

Levi's eyes widen with the word "husband" his eyes darting to you in surprise. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that you got married, congratulations." It doesn't sound sincere, but if Ben hears the insincerity, he ignores it.

"Thanks Levi." Ben smiles wider, pulling you tighter against his side. "It's fairly recent. We're still in that Honeymoon Phase, you know how it is." Ben's smile turns more into a smirk. "Kinda hard to leave the apartment if you know what I mean, champ. Could barely get her to this thing."

Your entire face flushes bright red in embarrassment, struck speechless. You knew Ben better than anyone and you knew that he was doing this because he was jealous, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing or any less Levi's business what Ben and you did in your apartment. Ben also didn't have anything to be jealous about, Levi was nothing compared to him, no one was compared to Ben, not when you were children and not now. You were sure that you'd told him that over and over again.

"Oh-um-" Levi clears his throat awkwardly, his own cheeks the same color of crimson of yours. "Yeah, well-"

"But if you still want to have dinner, I'm sure my wife and I could work out something." Ben smiles enjoying how frazzled Levi is.

You try not to flinch when Ben says the word "wife." "Ben-" You begin, hoping to give Levi a way out.

"Well, I'll have to check my schedule. I've got a show coming up and well-" Levi fumbles. "I'll see you." He turns and vanishes into the crowd of people flocking to your paintings.

Ben chuckles to himself. "He couldn't get out of here fast enough could he?"

You don't answer him. Ben's arm is around your waist, the warmth of his skin diffusing through his suit jacket and your dress into your body, but you don't feel the comfort you did when he first put it around you.

"You didn't have to do that." You say.

"Yes I did. He was trying to come on to my girl and we both know how much I hate sharing sweetheart." Ben replies light heartedly and you can hear the smile in his voice.

"Uh-huh." You look up at him. "So, I'm your wife? Funny I don't remember our wedding."

Ben's smile fades for a minute, clearing his throat. "He wants to fuck you. I was just trying to-"

"He's my friend Ben. We've been friends since I started showing in this gallery."

"He asked you to dinner."

"We've been to dinner before. We sometimes go out after the shows." You reply vaguely.

“You went out with him?” His eyebrows furrow together in confusion.

“No. We had dinner as friends. I recall you and I having dinner as friend a lot.” You say, not about to admit to Ben that you almost slept with Levi. You knew that particular piece of information was unneeded and would only upset him.

“That’s different!” Ben scoffs.

“Why is that different?” You pull back from him, letting his arm fall from your waist as you cross your arms over your chest.

“Because we both already were in love with one another!” Ben says it matter-of-factly as if it's the most obvious answer in the entire world.

"What? That doesn't make it a date!"

Wait, did he think that all those times we went to dinner were dates? Has Ben just been thinking that we were going out all these years? Is he freaking crazy? He doesn't have a right to think that way, not when he was sleeping his way through every major city in America.

"Yes it does."

"So you're telling me all those years that we spent together we were dating? And that you chasing after every woman who crossed your path was you what? Us having an open relationship?"

Ben narrows his eyes. "That's not what I'm saying."

"I mean, it kind of is. You think that just because we loved one another and went out to get food it was a date."

"No. I mean that it's different because you loved me and I loved you!"

"Ben-"

“Did you fuck him?” Ben's jaw locks, anger flashing in his eyes as he changes the subject.

Your mouth drops open in shock. "What? No. I told you that I've never been with anyone else, only you. I wouldn't lie about something like that-"

Does he really think that I would lie about that?

Ben's body stiffens and you see the dots connect inside his mind, green eyes hardening to a solid chunk of unyielding jade. "Is that the guy you almost slept with?" His gaze turns murderous.

"Ben-"

Ben's head swivels to glare at where Levi is standing across the room from the two of you speaking to someone else about his work. You can practically see the gears turning in Ben's head as he thinks of all the ways that he can kill him.

Truthfully you knew that Ben had a tendency to get jealous, had known it since the night Howard and you were dancing together, but you didn’t think that he deserved to be jealous about this.

I thought he was dead. I was trying to move on.. AND I didn’t sleep with him. Not to mention Ben and I weren't together. It's not like I was cheating on him or something.

"Why are you getting so angry? I wasn't cheating on you, we weren't together. And I didn't sleep with him."

"But he fucking touched you." Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at the back of Levi's head and you know that if Ben had laser vision Levi would be dead.

"He touched me two years ago! You're being ridiculous. I didn't go on a murder rampage through New York City whenever you slept with someone. If I did that there wouldn't be anymore women left in the state of New York."

"I am not being ridiculous!" He snaps eyes flashing back to you.

"Okay you've got to calm down."

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down."

"I don't understand why you're getting so angry about something that didn't happen. Not to mention it's me that has the right to be angry!"

"Why?"

"Because this," You wave your hand around the gallery. "Is my job and that," You point at Levi "Is kind of my coworker and you embarrassed me!"

"What? How the fuck did I embarrass you?" Ben was trying to keep his voice down, but you knew that it was becoming difficult for him.

"Well, call me crazy, but I don't want to talk about my sex life with someone else. Not to mention you had no right to lie to him. I get that you get jealous, but what you did was uncalled for."

"What in the actual fuck are you talking about?" His hands are clenched into fists at his sides so tightly that the skin stretched tight over his knuckles is white.

"We aren't married Ben. We live together. Those are two different things."

"It's not that different." Ben's shoulders fall and you see something flash for just a moment in his eyes that looks like disappointment.

Does he really think that living together and being together is the same as being marriage? As making a life-long commitment to someone? I mean I want to be married to him because I want to make that promise to him, want to bind myself to him because he's the only man that I've ever loved and I ever will love. I want to be his wife because I can't see my life without him in it.

"It is to me."

"But-"

"But what?" You scoff.

"Well we-" Ben's eyebrows furrow as he tries to find the right words, but he comes up empty handed.

"The only time that you've ever brought up marriage was when you were drunk off your ass on my couch after Noir, when you brought up Howard and then made a joke about the two of us getting married!"

"I mean, it wasn't completely a joke and I told you that I wasn't that drunk." Ben frowns. "And that doesn’t mean anything!"

"What do you mean it doesn’t mean anything? To me it does. Making that promise to someone, making a vow to them, binding yourself to them and saying those words aloud in front of everyone you love to someone means something to me. And I've told you that. I've told you what I wanted." You look up at him for a moment, before you realize something. It creeps along your skin like the first frost on a window pane. "Wait, are you saying that the idea of marriage doesn't mean anything to you? That you don't want to marry me?"

"Sweetheart wait a minute." Ben reaches out for you, but you take a shaky step back from him.

“What are we doing?”

 “Huh?”

“I mean really. What are we doing?" Your voice is barely a whisper, but you know that Ben can hear you. Emotion makes your voice wobble as you stand there and look at him. He looks just as devastatingly handsome as he always does, but something lurks in his eyes that you can't place.

Deep down you had believed that Ben wanted to marry you, but maybe he was just waiting for the right moment, but now you weren't sure. Based on everything he'd said in the last minute you were starting to think that Ben didn't want to marry you.

If marriage doesn't mean anything to him, then does that mean he doesn't want to marry me? And then where is this going? I know that I want to get married and if he doesn't does that mean I'm not his forever?

"What do you mean?" The look on his face shifts into something else, something that looks surprisingly like fear, and to see that on Ben's face was physically jarring.

"If we're not going to get married then why are doing this? Why are we-" You look around the room, suddenly cold. "Ben, why are we together?"

You knew that you loved Ben more than anything and that you wanted to be apart of his life forever, that you wanted Ben to be your always. You wanted to say those words to Ben, to make that vow to love and cherish him for the rest of your life, but he didn't want to make them to you. Suddenly you felt like the stupid little girl that lived in Philadelphia and always did what you were told the one that watched her best friend make out with girls like Missy Callahan and longed to be with him.

"Sweetheart-" Ben says, stepping forward to touch you again, but you pull away from him. "Wait-" The tone of his voice is thick with emotion, gruff, just a rumble.

“I think you should leave." You say it, but your voice sounds hollow and far away.

It was the first time that you’d told him to leave since the night he came back to you, the first time since he came back that you wanted to be alone. You wanted to think this over, because now that you knew how he felt about marriage all you could think of is the possibility of spending years together only to be traded out by a newer model because Ben never wanted to marry you.

The people around you laughing and chatting at each of your paintings all of a sudden seem to be mocking you. Their happiness and joy taunting the warring heartbreak and hurt that swirls in the pit of your stomach. You feel your mind begin to slip into the memory of when you walked out of the bathroom at the night of the premiere, when you wove through the people who were so happy to be there while your heart was breaking. When it felt like your world was ending, and honestly, the feeling that you have now feels almost too similar to ignore.

"No I want to talk about this. I don’t want to leave.”

"I want you to." You lock eyes with him, fighting the urge to cry. "I need some time and I don't think it's a good idea for you to be here right now."

"But-" Ben's eyes haven't left you.

"Please go."

"Sweetheart-“

“No." You say sharply. "I think it would be better if you just went home. You wanted to anyway.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling your heart squeeze in your chest. "And this isn't the place for us to talk about this."

“Not because I didn’t want to be with you. I wanted to go home with you.” He emphasizes and reaches for your hand, but you move it away from him. Ben winces as if it hurts for him to be unable to touch you. Given what he'd confessed to you in the past you knew it was true.

“No I-“ You shake your head, tears burning against your eyes. “I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t be with you if I’m not your forever. If you don't want to marry me. I-” Your eyes lock with his, hurt and heartbreak clamping around your heart in a vice. “So please just go.”

"Let me explain."

"No. I need to be alone."

“Sweetheart-“

“How many times do I have to say it? I want you to leave!”

The people around you turn to look at where Ben and you are standing, hearing your final words ring in the air between the two of you.

Ben freezes, something vulnerable crossing over his face before his expression hardens into the one that was more familiar. “Fine.”

And as he walks away, weaving through the people that stand at every canvas, you try not to feel the pit open up beneath your feet ready to swallow your broken heart whole.

When you get home the apartment is cold and dark, the shadows of your living room lengthening with every step you take towards the dark hallway and what lies beyond. Hurt, sadness, and remorse creep along your skin like a spider, it's spiderweb clinging to your body and ensnaring you like a wiggling fly in it's grasp. There was no warmth, only the cold chill of fear of what you’d find when you entered your shared bedroom.

Ben's cologne was stale, hanging in the air, but it wasn't fresh, just a reminder, and you knew deep down it was because he wasn't here. But somewhere you clung on with bloodied fingertips hoping and praying that he was.

You'd spent the rest of the evening nursing a glass of red wine, fiddling with your necklace, and talking with anyone who came up to you about the paintings, but you lacked the enthusiasm you should have.

Nothing else seemed to matter, not after the fight you'd had with Ben, and standing amongst your creations felt frivolous, especially when everything you said to him rang in your ears.

At the end of the night you'd stood at the centerpiece, looking at the  familiar brushstrokes and splashes of color of the picture of Ben and you sitting on the bank of a pond while tears crept along your cheeks.

Your agent had taken your tears as tears of joy, happy that you’d sold out your show, but gazing up at the painting you regretted it's sale. It made you feel like a part of you was being sold, as if the memory you had of that day would go with the painting to it's new owner leaving you with nothing.

You'd realized as the night wore on how stupid you'd been. You wished that you could go back and apologize for everything you said to Ben, because it didn't matter, nothing else mattered to you but Ben. And you hated yourself for telling him to leave, not when you knew how much he hated it when you told him to go and when you knew after all these years he still struggled with the idea that you didn't want him with you, when in reality being without him made you feel as if you were drowning.

And right now in the aftermath of the fight, you could feel the seaweed tangling around your ankle to pull you under.

As you stood there gazing up at the painting you'd realized that maybe Ben really did think the two of you were married and maybe deep down you knew that. That it wasn't about saying those vows in an official ceremony, it was about everything the two of you said to one another every day since he came back, it was about the promises that Ben made and kept, and it was about everything the two of you had been through over the years.

A stupid ceremony and certificate didn't matter to you, not if it stood in the way of Ben and you. You'd graciously take everything he had to give you for the rest of your life, and you knew that Ben felt the same way. You knew that he wasn't going to leave you, wasn't going to cheat on you with someone else, and wasn't going to turn his back on you. Not after everything the two of you had gone through and not when you knew how much Ben loved you.

That was what you wanted to say to him now, because you felt so stupid that you yelled at him. To tell him that none of it mattered, that the only thing that mattered to you was him.

The urge to throw up surges into the back of your throat as you creep down the hallway, but when you open the bedroom door you see that the bed is empty. A cold hands traces it's way down your vertebrae bringing with it the chill of fear that you'd done it, you'd finally made Ben want to leave you, that he was fed up and he was gone for good.

You almost don't make it to the bathroom sink before you throw up the two glasses of wine you drank, the sour taste of bile and alcohol burning your throat as your hands tighten on the cool lip of the marble vanity. Sweat and tears streak down your red face as a shudder works it's way through your body.

You'd hoped that he'd be in bed, the thought was optimistic at best, but you knew that Ben couldn't go to bed without you. Even when you were up late painting Ben would always pull you away to come to bed, because he needed you there, he wanted you beside him as he drifted off, holding you close against his chest and molding his body around yours. When Ben went away for work and was gone for days, he always came back with dark circles under his eyes, and you knew he didn't sleep, because Ben couldn't sleep without you.

You could feel the ghost of his touch against your skin, causing more tears to crest and fall down your cheeks and another shudder shake your body.

You scramble to find your phone where you placed it on the counter beside you. The selfie of the two of you on your home screen pressed cheek to cheek almost mocking before you swipe your thumb frantically to find his contact. You hold it up to your ear listening to the line ring and each time it does, it's like another nail in the coffin, because Ben doesn't answer.

When the voicemail starts you're not really sure what to say.

"Hey it's me-" You clear your throat, but it does little to hide the sob. "I just got home and you're not here and I miss you." Your voice breaks. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that to you or made a big deal about it, please Ben just come home. I was being stupid and I don't want to live without-"

The message is cut off and you stand there with the phone pressed into your cheek for another minute, unable to put it down. You feel it crunch in your hand as you lose control, crying harder as you stand there in front of your vanity trying desperately not to feel like this is the end and Ben was never coming back.

The shower you take is longer than you intended, because you zone out halfway through and it's only when the water runs cold that you realize you need to get out. It's been over an hour since you got home, almost past one in the morning, but Ben still isn't there.

Instead of putting on one of your shirts you put on a pair of panties and you grab an oversized cotton shirt of Ben's that hangs mid-thigh, inhaling the familiar scent and trying to find some comfort, but all it does is remind you that he's gone and nothing compares to when he's here with you.

When you slide into bed, it's cold, and fear begins to trickle along your skin, fear that Ben was never coming back and the last thing you'd ever say to him was that you couldn't be with him and you wanted him to leave.

Something rough works it's way down your arm in a gentle motion, stirring you from sleep. One look at the alarm clock on your bedside table reveals that it's well past four in the morning. You didn't remember falling asleep all you remembered was crawling into bed and hugging Ben's pillow to your chest wishing that it was him.

You blink your eyes to adjust to the darkness, noticing a dark figure sitting on the edge of your side of the bed staring down at you. Ben's green eyes catch in the light that comes from the cracked bathroom door, flashing dark green in the mist of darkness that shrouds his body from the rest of the light. He's wearing the white button down shirt, but his suit coat and tie are missing. The first few buttons are unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing freckled skin. His hand is tracing it's way over your arm, the roughness of his palm against your skin familiar, warm and comforting.

"Ben?" Your voice is hoarse and broken, for a moment unsure if this is a dream and he's not really here.

He doesn't say anything.

"Ben!" You practically shout it this time and surge upwards out of the bed to wrap your arms around his body so tightly that you think you hear the cracking of bone, but you can't control yourself now. Not when he's warm and he's here, not when he came back despite what you yelled at him.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Tears were streaking down your face where it’s buried against the smooth slope his neck, saturating his dress shirt. “ I don’t want to lose you over something stupid like that.” You pull back to cup his cheeks taking in a shaky breath as you lean your forehead against his, memorizing the familiar edges you love so much. Even as close as you were to him you wanted more, you always wanted more. “I love you, only you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, more than I ever will love anyone. I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry that I asked you to leave, I don’t want you to leave ever again. Whenever you’re not here it’s cold and colorless and I don’t want to live my life like that ever.” Your body shakes with sobs as you hold Ben tighter against you, afraid that he’ll vanish before your very eyes. “You and me together is enough for me. It’ll always be enough for me. We don’t have to-“

“It’s not enough for me.” Ben interrupts, his eyes not leaving your face. His expression is unreadable, the soft plains of his face sharpening in the moonlight that seeps through the bottom of the curtains of your shared bedroom.

“What?” You gasp and could feel your heart seize in your chest and your throat tighten in fear.

I can’t lose him, not again, not over a stupid argument that doesn’t mean anything when Ben means everything.

“This.” He clears his throat and gestures between the two of you. “Us being together like this, it’s not enough for me.”

It feels like you'd taken a bullet to the chest again, a sickening jolt back, and a sharp pain that follows as everything you know is stripped away. You're sure that you're about to break down into nothing, your heart crumbling in your hands as you try to hold it out to him and he turns away from you. Him saying those words to you made you feel like you had nothing left, because to know that you had him and lost him hurt more than knowing what it was like not to have him as completely as you had for the past five months.

"Ben please. I'm sorry I-" You sob, trying to cling to him, afraid to let him go, but he pulls away and stands up from the bed. "Don’t go please! Just tell me what I can do to make this right. Tell me how I can fix this." The words sound garbled as they exhale in one breath through tears and snot reaching for him frantically. "Please Ben I can't lose you-"

Ben takes your outstretched hand, gaze focused on your face. "Come on." He tugs gently, expecting you to follow him out of the bed.

"No, I want to talk about this. I don't want you to go!"

"Come on sweetheart." Ben encourages you quietly, tugging your hand once more, and this time you allow him to help you up from the bed.

You follow behind him, sobs shaking your shoulders because you're afraid Ben is taking you out to the living room to yell at you again, to tell you that he doesn't love you and you're going to find a packed bag.

But then Ben squeezes your hand to comfort you as you enter the living room and you stop dead in your tracks.

The entire room is covered in lavender, the kitchen counter, the coffee table in front of the plush leather couch, the large wooden table on the opposite side of the room that serves as your desk/workstation, and on the kitchen island broken up intermittently by candles that cast a soft honeyed light over the room. You gasp softly as Ben releases your hand, looking around the space with awe. You'd never seen so many bouquets of lavender in your entire life, each one sitting in a pretty glass vase, and in the center of the room stands one of your cherry wood colored easels holding the painting of Ben and you sitting on the bank of the pond.

You step closer to the painting, tracing the brush strokes with your eyes as you had earlier that night, reaching out to touch the edge, suddenly confused.

"Ben, what is this?" You turn to look at him, wiping the back of your hand across your face. You were sure that your eyes were puffy and that you were still covered in a layer of tears and snot, but you didn't care. Ben had seen you like this before and you were more worried about what was happening rather than how you looked.

You didn't understand what was happening, not when Ben came home so late and not when you had spent the entire night worried that he wasn't going to come back to you.

Ben is standing by the record player pushed up against the brick wall of your apartment that stands opposite your exhaustive collection of records and drops the needle. The song that begins to play is hauntingly familiar and you recognize it before Russ Columbo starts to sing.

"I can't forget the night I met you, That's all I'm dreaming of..."

It wasn't the first time that Ben and you had listened to this particular record, or danced together in the living room of your apartment in the quiet hours of the evening to "You Call It Madness, But I Call It Love." The song was filled with memories, some good, some bad that the two of you had shared over the years. The words heavy and familiar, the story much too similar to the one you shared with Ben.

A part of you is surprised that he chose to play it. You still didn't quite understand what was happening, you thought that Ben was breaking up with you, but this didn't feel like a ending.

"How did you get the painting? I sold it." You ask him.

"You made a promise to be faithful, By all the stars above…"

The song continues to play bringing memories of each time it did rising with the soft familiar swell of the music. A flash of you dancing for the first time with Ben flits across your mind bringing the usual warmth and happiness followed by the memory of your birthday when you danced together and it felt like no one else existed as if it were just the two of you left in a world where everyone else was gone.

"I know." Ben half-smiles. "I bought it."

"But why?"

"My heart is beating, For you constantly…"

He's still standing by the record player as if he's afraid to get closer to you. "Well, I've never bought any of your work and I wanted to be supportive." Ben shrugs. "And I didn't want someone else to have a piece of us Sweetheart, felt wrong."

"You're all I needed, And so I pleaded, Please come back to me…"

Your breath catches. It was the same thought you'd had when you were standing at the painting at the end of the night wishing that you hadn't sold it, wishing that you kept it for Ben and you.

"Look I-" Ben clears his throat. "I've- fuck- I’ve never had a way with words, you know that." He takes a cautionary step forward towards you as if he's afraid you'll run. "But I'm going to try my best here."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry."

"You made a plaything out of romance, What do you know of love…"

"Ben no, you don't have to apologize for anything." You close the distance between the two of you, taking his hands in yours to wash away any uncertainty Ben has about touching you. "It was me, it was all me and I shouldn't have said what I said and I shouldn’t have made you leave. I hate it when you leave. I-"

"Hey. Let me say this first." Ben's thumb rubs over the back of your hand, his eyes wide and an understanding smile on his face.

"At first, a slight suggestion, That grew to light my mind, Was the eternal question…"

"Okay." Your heart was stuttering in your chest, senses overwhelmed by the lavender that covered the room.

Ben looks down at your hands for a minute. "I'm sorry that I made you cry again. I hate it when you cry, especially when it's my fault. And I'm sorry that I made you think that I didn't want to marry you.” He almost whispers it and takes a deep breath. "When you asked me forty years ago if I wanted to marry anyone the only person that I could ever see myself marrying was you. Spending my life with you, waking up with you every morning, going to bed with you, and showing you how much you mean to me. And the truth is, it's all I've been thinking about since I got back, but I-" He swallows, still not looking up at you. "Fuck. I didn't think you'd say yes. "

"True love is hard to find…"

He wanted to marry me forty years ago?

Your eyes widen. "What? Why would you think that?”

Ben's green eyes flick up to yours for a moment, raising an eyebrow to remind you that he's trying to say something.

"Sorry." You murmur, tightening your hands around his.

"I don't deserve you, I never have. Fuck, it feels like my whole life I've been trying to earn you, but I never seem to come close." He sighs. "I've fucked up so many times and I've hurt people, killed others. I fucked up our friendship and I pushed you away, because I was-” Ben tighten his jaw as if it’s difficult to say the next words, “-Shit-" he murmurs the word under his breath before he continues, "scared to fail you and scared that I couldn't be what you wanted. I thought you deserved someone better, someone good, someone who wasn't such a fuck up like me, someone who you could love you the way that you deserve and I-" Ben swallows and takes another deep breath. "I spent my life chasing away everyone who tried because I hated the thought of you with someone else.”

"And in the day I found you, my love I had to share, I built my dreams around you…"

It hurt you to hear him say those things about himself, hurt you to see him still buckle under the pressure that his father put on his shoulders, and hurt you to see how little he thought of himself. Ben was one of the strongest people you knew, but even then you knew he needed you, and you'd spent your entire life making sure that you were there for him and you weren’t going to stop now.

"Somehow you made me care…"

"And yet every time I'm with you, you've never make it seem like I don't belong there. You don’t make me feel like a fuck up or a disappointment. You don’t turn your back on me or ignore the parts of me I tried to cover up for so long from everyone else. You see me, more than anyone has.” Ben murmurs, the smile on his face breaks something deep down inside of you and you can feel the tears begin to spill all over again. He traces a rough hand along the soft smooth edges of your face. Hands that had done painful over the years but were only gentle to you, hands that held you close, and treated you with love that only you were able to see. "You make me feel loved and I thought that I'd never have that, that I didn’t deserve it, but ever since I was eight years old you've forced yourself into my life and I can't imagine a world without you in it, I don't want to."

"Ben-" Your voice breaks with a sniffle, eyes brimming with fresh tears.

"Shh. I've still got a few more things." Ben smiles, brushing away a tear from your cheek. "You know my old man never gave me any advice that was worth a damn, but your dad did. He said that there's going to be a lot of women I run into and that most men pick from first glance the flashy ones that don’t last, the ones that aren't willing to stay for long, and the ones that care about all the wrong things. Your dad told me that I should pick someone that understands me better than I understand myself, someone who holds me accountable, someone that doesn't put up with any of my bullshit, someone to grow with, someone who loves me even if I believe they shouldn’t, and someone that makes me a better man." He chuckles under his breath. "And I knew exactly who he was talking about the minute he said it, because it's you sweetheart, it's always been you, from the moment you walked into that damn study and lied to my father about where I was."

"My heart is beating, For you constantly…"

The song is in full swing now, but you can barely hear it, all you can hear is Ben's steady heartbeat and yours beating together in tandem. The love you feel for him swelling in your chest with the music and with his words. You want so badly to pull him close and tell him how much you love him, how he's the only one, how he's everything you dreamed of, but you're trying not to interrupt him.

"Eighty years ago I made a mistake, I asked you to leave everything behind and come with me, because I couldn't lose you and because I couldn’t stand to see you with someone else. I didn't ask you to marry me, I didn't tell you how much you meant to me or that I loved you. I was selfish and I took advantage of our friendship. I strung you along all those fucking years, made you wait-"

"You didn’t take advantage of our friendship-“ You begin to say.

"Sweetheart please." He squeezes your hand and continues. "Forty years ago I made another mistake." He closes his eyes as if trying to forget for a moment, before he looks you in the eye once more. "I had everything I wanted for one night and then I fucking lost it. I treated you like you meant nothing to me. I threw you away. I said terrible things to push you away. I hurt you, and I will regret those things for the rest of my life, because it’s not true, you mean everything to me."

"You're all I needed, And so I pleaded, Please come back to me…"

You raise your free hand to his cheek. "I've forgiven you." You whisper and Ben leans into your hand.

"I know. And I don't deserve that, I don’t deserve you, I never have and I don’t think I ever will. You have meant more to me than anyone in my entire life. You are my family and my home. You have stood by me and loved me despite all the terrible shitty things I've done. You have seen me at my worst and you never left. Being your boyfriend isn’t enough for me. You being my girlfriend isn’t enough and frankly, it doesn’t feel like the right word for you not when you mean this much to me and not when you're the only person I need. So I'm asking you," Ben drops down on one knee, making your breath catch in your chest.

"Eighty years too late, to spend the rest of your life with me. Because I've spent the past forty without you and I don't want to spend another second regretting that I didn't do this eighty years ago. I'm asking you to chose me one more time, Sweetheart, and I promise that every day I will chose you every day for as long as I live. You said that you wanted to be my forever, well sweetheart, I can't imagine anything better." Ben swallows and reaches into his coat with his free hand, his right still holding on to yours, for a black suede box. "Will you marry me?"

You stand there for a moment stunned as he opens the box in his hand, gazing up at you like you're the sun as if you shone so brightly that the heavenly hosts bowed to your brilliance and he can't help but worship you. It's the same way that you saw the couple looking at each other the night Ben and you danced for the first time that continues to play in your silent apartment, bathed in the golden glow of candle light.

You gaze at Ben, eyes tracing the familiar face, seeing the old parts of him and the new ones that you'd come to love. You could see the boy you grew up with and the man he became, the same one you knew as a child and the man you fell in love with. The one who always put you first, who cared for you, protected you, and the one you thought you lost years ago.

The ring nestled in the black velvet is everything you imagined it to be. It's perfect, elegant, classic, it's you in every way, and it only proves to you again how well Ben knows you.

You could remember the day that Howard proposed, when all you felt was dread as he dropped to one knee in the dining room in front of your parents and revealed the ugliest piece of jewelry you’d ever seen, when he didn't make a grand gesture, didn’t profess his love to you, and didn’t make you feel special.

But Ben did. He always made you feel special, seen, loved, and appreciated. You refused to live another moment away from him and refused to deprive yourself of this indulgence, of him.

Ben had saved you more times than you could count and the day he took you away from Philadelphia was one of them. Away from a man who didn't love you, who didn't appreciate you, and who didn't think that you were worth more than a trophy to parade around a city.

You smile at the ring, tears glazing your eyes, because after all these years, you were right, Ben knew exactly the ring to get you and he knew exactly what to say to make everything else fade away into the past and have you hopeful for the coming future with him.

"Sweetheart?" Ben murmurs, looking suddenly worried and you realize that you haven’t given him an answer.

You look from the ring to the man you love with your entire being. "Took you long enough Benjamin."

Ben's smile makes you melt from the inside out. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes." You smile, vision blurring as Ben smiles even wider and puts the ring on your finger, before rising up from the ground to capture your lips against his as if he wishes for the two of you to fall in love all over again.

"There isn't anyone else Ben." You murmur against his lips. "There never has been and there never will be. All I  want is you and me, forever."

Ben kisses you all over again, his hands holding you so tight against his chest that it’s almost painful, your own tangled in his hair, but you can't stop and you don't want him to either. Not when this was what you wished for, not when this was what you wanted for so long and you thought you'd never had, and not when you'd thought you'd lost him.

"Then I'll give it to you sweetheart." Ben presses his forehead against yours, his eyes shining. "I'll give you forever."

"And you call it madness, Oh but I call it love…"

A/n: I'm not crying... I lied, I am BIG time. Goodness, finishing this series is like saying goodbye to characters that feel like my children. Honestly, I can’t believe that we've finally all made it here, but here it is. There are so many people that I want to thank, too many to name, those who have been here from the beginning and those who came later, people who's constant comments, reblogs, and encouragements made me turn this story from one chapter into a multi-chapter fic. There are just so many wonderful people that I've interacted with on this site that made me want to continue writing and helped me find confidence in how I wrote and this fic is for them.

As always thank you so much for reading! This series will be continued in the form of some one-shots that I am plotting out currently and I have a lot of really cute ideas and some that are more angsty. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for future fics in this universe. ❤️🥰

Taglist:

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@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126 @simplyfixated @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444

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[betweenstorms]

hey, this is the anon from before :) honestly would you consider writing a simon pov? cuz i’d like to see what he thinks during all the silence, the sudden stride forward to grab your chin?? immaculate. did he think of you too during those years gone? argh so much to talk abt.. honestly i picture he noticed you in the bar before you noticed him outside but wasn’t sure if he should come up to talk, which is a pretty simon thing to do.

Hi! I'm so glad you sent this ask—I absolutely love it! Writing from Simon's perspective is something I've been itching to dive into. But I have to admit, a full POV would give away a bit too much of the ending. Still, I didn’t want to leave you hanging, so I’ve written a short drabble! Thank you again for the thoughtful message—it really made my day!

Drabble One of Where We Part (previous chapter) (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

The streets of Manchester hadn’t changed, not really.

Returning here was like walking through a graveyard of memories he’d long buried, each street corner a ghost, each familiar landmark an infected scar. Selling his childhood home felt like cutting loose the last thread of a life he had tried so hard to leave behind, something he hadn’t let himself think about for years. He’d avoided this return like the plague. It was a place he never wanted to think about, let alone see again, yet here he was. He was back, and the weight of the past was heavier than he’d imagined.

He hadn't meant to stop by the old pub.

He hadn’t planned on drinking at all, but there he was, in the heart of his old neighborhood, the one place that had remained untouched by the passing of time. Stepping inside, the familiarity was suffocating—same stained floors, same worn barstools, and faces that blurred into ghosts from his past.

He sat in the shadows, nursing a glass of whiskey that tasted too much like pain. But he wasn’t here to reminisce, wasn’t here for the memories that lingered in the corners of this place. He was here to forget, just for a few hours.

But then, there was you.

Bloody hell.

The sound of your laughter reached him first, sweet and familiar, cutting through the haze of voices. He didn’t need to look to know it was you, but when he did and the sight hit him like a punch he hadn’t braced for. There you were, sitting with old friends, the same group from high school—familiar faces he hadn’t thought of in years. Time had touched you too, but softly, like a breeze, not the storm that had weathered him down.

For a moment, he could only stare.

The sound of you twisted something inside him, both sharp and soft, like a knife dulled by time. He hadn’t prepared for this—hadn’t even considered the possibility of seeing you again, not here, not like this. Fifteen years had passed, but looking at you now, it felt like no time at all, like the years between you had been nothing more than a blink. You were laughing, as if life hadn’t crushed you the way it had him.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, even though every instinct told him to look away, to run before the memories dragged him under.

But the pull was too strong.

And when you ended up outside, in that small, dimly lit smoking area, he knew he was done for. It was like being pulled into a gentle current he didn’t want to fight. The moment you stepped into his space, the air felt different, heavier. The distance between you had been vast for so long, but now it was nothing—just a few steps and you were close enough to touch. Close enough to undo him.

He didn’t have a chance.

Not against you.

Not when you looked at him like that, with the same eyes that had once seen the boy he used to be, the boy he’d tried so hard to forget. He had no chance, not here, not in this place where the air still smelled faintly of the life he should’ve had.

You were everything soft, everything he craved and feared in equal measure. And as you asked for a light, as you came closer to him, the memories came crashing back. He had spent years building walls, but with you, they never stood a chance. The years fell away in that instant, and he was drowning in you all over again.

So he just stood there, watching, waiting, wondering how it was possible for someone to still hold this much power over him after all these years. Simon Riley, the man who had faced death countless times, felt his heart stumble in his chest as your eyes met his.

He really had no chance.

He could already feel himself drowning, sinking into the memory of what could have been, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to swim to the surface.

[lolacelest101]

No Need for Privacy Part 2

18+ MDNI

Hi Hi!! I want to start off by saying THANK YOU for all the support that you all gave my on my first part! I know I don't have a set schedule yet, but I feel like I definitely took too long to give y'all part 2 so here we go!! For this post you can read it as a one parter or you can go back to part one to read it then come back for this!

I hope you enjoy this one and as always HAPPY READING!

Word Count: 8109

TW: In this part, there is some really dark humor about serious topics including Su!sidal ideation and other dark topics. This is NOT meant to make fun of these topics. It was just meant as really dark and fucked up humor.

If this is a trigger for you PLEASE DON'T READ!!!

Summary: Y/N recently moved to Monaco for work with her best friends and is currently living with them in the same house. Sparks fly between Lando and Y/N, when Lando who is living next door catches Y/N in a spicy moment starting a secret romance that they have to hide from the public.

Themes: Lando!Norris x Fem!American!reader, next door neighbor, secret dating

Smutty tings: POV switch, Fem dom switch, oral fem receiving, mirror sex, p in v, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!!!!), slight over stimulation, fingering, praise and degradation kink.

Y/N's POV

It’s been over a week of orientation at work with the girls and nonstop media obligations for Lando in preparation for the Monaco GP this coming weekend. The odds of seeing him are slim, especially since we’re sneaking around like teenagers behind everyone’s backs.

I’ve never been one to date in secret, but in my defense, I’ve never been involved with someone so well-known that fans and paparazzi needed to be factored into a relationship.

Today is media day for Lando, but he managed to text me earlier, letting me know he’d be able to leave early after finishing some interviews and a meeting. By the time I get home, he should already be free. He suggested I tell the girls I’m heading to the gym. But honestly, that excuse will sound unbelievable if I end up spending the night at his place.

My focus snaps back to the task at hand as Liana and Aaliyah approach my desk.

“Hey, girl. You need to take a break or get some fresh air. You’ve been sitting like this for the past hour,” Aaliyah says, her voice laced with concern.

Liana stands behind me and starts massaging my shoulders. “Look, this project isn’t going anywhere. Just get up and take a breather or something!”

I sigh, realizing they have a point. “You’re right, sadly. Fine!” I stand up, grabbing my phone and wallet. “Coffee break?”

They both nod in unison, and we head toward the elevator to grab some coffee from the third floor—the only place with decent coffee in the building.

“So, are we doing anything this Sunday? I heard Camille mention that a bunch of people are going to Jimmy’s and invited us,” Aaliyah says, practically vibrating with excitement.

“I’m down, as long as the grand prix is done by then. Traffic’s going to be insane,” I reply as we step into the elevator.

“Same here,” Liana agrees. “But what about tonight? I feel too bored to just sit at home doing nothing.”

“Oh!” Aaliyah’s eyes light up. “How about a movie night? 27 Dresses, The Princess Diaries 1… and 2,” she adds dramatically, grinning as Liana nods in agreement.

Shit. How am I going to get out of this one?

“Sorry, girls. You’ll have to watch without me. I have to finish the project tonight—or at least the PowerPoint. I don’t want to spend more time on it than I absolutely have to.” I try to sound apologetic, praying they don’t catch onto my lie.

I’ve never been a great liar, and these two know all my tells. Right now, I’m hoping they’ve forgotten them.

“Dude, leave work at work! Don’t stress yourself out. I know it’s easier said than done, but come on,” Liana scolds, launching into one of her motivational speeches about the importance of work-life balance as we wait for the coffee machine to finish brewing.

I raise my hand to make a peace offering. “Okay! How about this—let me work on my project tonight, and tomorrow, I’ll take you both to that Japanese restaurant we’ve been wanting to try. My treat.”

“Fine, but you better pinky swear on it because I swear…” Liana starts, clearly recalling the last few times I flaked.

I grin, extending my pinky. “Deal.”

-------------------

Later That Night

"Okay, girls, I’m going to get changed and work on the project. Have fun with the movies!" I call out, doing my best to sound completely unsuspicious.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m so going to get caught. Movie Night Ditcher—that’s going to be my new nickname for a while. And when they find out I’ve been hiding a whole relationship behind their backs? Oh, it’ll be so much worse. If they even talk to me after that, it’ll only be for a few days—maybe a week. Anything longer would be borderline criminal.

Once I’m in my room, it’s time for Mission: Sneak Out. No, I can’t come up with a better name right now—how the fuck am I supposed to sneak out of a second-story window without breaking my neck?

I glance out the window, trying to gauge just how bad the fall would be. After spending far too long assessing the situation—long enough for it to seem borderline suicidal by society's standers—I decide that today is not the day I live out some cheesy teen rom-com moment. I’ll leave through the front door like the classy lady I am.

My focus snaps back as I hear the familiar Kim Possible text notification from my phone. Picking it up, I read the message from Lando.

LN 🪟🧡: Hey, cutie pie! I’m waiting on the sidewalk for you. Please don’t leave me hanging, princess—I’ve been dying to see you and touch you all day! 😽

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the instant, undeniable craving to feel his hands on me. Grabbing my laptop, I head downstairs. From the kitchen, I can hear Liana and Aaliyah debating over which movie to watch first while the popcorn machine hums in the background.

This is my chance.

Tiptoeing to the door, I carefully grip the handle and twist it as silently as possible. I slip outside, quickly flicking on the porch light before shutting the door behind me and locking it. The light will stay on until the sun fully sets, making my excuse a little more believable.

Just to keep the girls from freaking out, I shoot a text to our group chat:

Me: Hey loves! Decided to take my laptop out to the front yard for some fresh air and fewer distractions. Don’t worry about me!

Hopefully Liana wouldn't get all detective Sherlock Holmes —or worse, Criminal Minds profiler—on my ass. Hopefully.

As I sneak past the house’s front gate and step onto the sidewalk, strong yet gentle hands settle firmly on my hips, pulling me into a back hug.

Before my fight-or-flight instincts can kick in, I twist my head slightly and catch Lando’s cheeky smile over my shoulder. His grip tightens, tugging at the fabric of my flowing sundress and molding my curves against him.

"God, you smell amazing, Princess," Lando whispers in my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine.

"Glad you like it. It’s my favorite too," I reply, my voice soft as he leans closer, his lips pressing a tender kiss to my neck. The subtle floral scent of my perfume fills the space between us as he inhales deeply.

The heat of his lips on my skin sends an electric thrill through my body, pooling warmth in my core and nearly making me forget that we’re still outside, fully visible from the house.

"Okay, so what’s the plan? Hanging out at yours or...?" I ask, turning to face him as I try to gauge our options.

His eyes roam over me hungrily, lingering on every curve and inch of exposed skin. "I’ve got a reservation lined up for dinner, and then I thought I’d surprise you with something special... but after seeing you in this dress, I don’t know if I’ll even make it through dinner without losing my mind."

His gaze burns into me, his hunger palpable.

"Well then, Mr. Norris," I tease, a mischievous grin spreading across my face as I drape my arms around his neck, my fingers threading through his soft curls. "I guess we better make it to that reservation quickly—so we can move on to the more fun parts of the night."

Lando opened the passenger door of his sleek black McLaren, a playful smile on his lips as he gestured for me to get in. I oblige, sliding into the luxurious seat and fastening my seatbelt.

The drive to the restaurant takes about twenty minutes, but it feels much longer with one of his hands confidently resting on the steering wheel while the other lingers on my thigh. His fingers trace slow, deliberate circles on my skin, sending a ripple of heat through me that I try—and fail—to ignore.

By the time we pull up to the restaurant, my panties are already damp, and I’m silently begging the universe that nothing betrays me by seeping through.

Lando slides out of the driver’s seat with casual grace and quickly makes his way to my side. He opens the door with a flourish, extending his hand toward me.

"My lady," he says with a teasing lilt, his eyes glinting with mischief.

I place my hand in his, letting him help me out of the car. "Thank you," I reply, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips as our gazes lock.

Lando hands his keys to the valet with a nod before turning back to me, his hand lightly brushing the small of my back as he guides me toward the entrance.

Dim lights lined the stairs leading up to the restaurant's grand front door, where a man greeted us warmly and motioned us inside.

"Hello, Mr. Norris. Your table is ready on the private patio as requested," he said with a professional smile.

Lando gestured for him to lead the way. "Great, thank you."

I turned to Lando, my brows arching in surprise. "A private patio? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?"

He tugged me closer, his hand resting possessively on my hip. "Nothing is too much for you, princess. Plus, it has the best view—I know you’ll love it."

The waiter led us through a discreet, tucked-away hallway, hidden from the main dining area. As we stepped onto the patio, my breath caught. Before us was a perfectly set table overlooking the ocean, with the vibrant colors of the sunset painting the horizon. The table was adorned with delicate flowers and flickering candlelight that gave the scene an enchanting glow.

I turned to Lando, my heart full, and cupped his face gently in my hands. "I love it. It’s absolutely gorgeous." I pressed a soft butterfly kiss to his lips.

His lips curved into a satisfied smile. "I’m glad," he murmured, kissing me back. This time, his kiss deepened, more passionate now that the waiter had taken his cue to leave.

Pulling away reluctantly, he slid a chair out for me. "After you, my lady."

I smiled as I sat down, and the night began beautifully.

-------------

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow over the patio as our conversation carried on effortlessly. Lando regaled me with hilarious stories about his chaotic childhood with his siblings and the adventures of his karting days, his animated expressions making me laugh so hard I nearly choked on a bite of chicken carbonara.

Every laugh, every glance felt natural, yet the subtle heat between us simmered just beneath the surface. His fingers occasionally brushed over mine, lingering a little longer each time, the casual touches growing more deliberate. With each graze of his skin against mine, the heat in my core deepened, the teasing connection between us becoming impossible to ignore.

My focus was momentarily interrupted by a notification on my phone. I excused myself, reaching into my purse to check the text from Aaliyah.

Ally 🪩💕: Hey girly!! You’ve been working on this thing for like 2 hours. We’re about to start PD1!! We miss your commentaries, GIRLLYYY!! 😩

Me: Hey love!! You two just watch it without me. I still need at least another hour on this thing. I PROMISE to annoy the shit out of you next time. Enjoy 😽!!

Sliding my phone back into my purse, I looked up to find Lando handing his card to the waiter. His brow furrowed slightly as he studied me. "The girls—are they worried?"

"No, they’re fine," I reassured him with a smile. "They just wanted me to join, but I told them I needed at least another hour."

"Alright then," he said, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. "Time to head home?"

The teasing glint in his eyes left no doubt about what he meant by home.

"Sounds good, but let me stop by the restroom first," I replied, matching his grin.

As I stood and turned, I could feel his gaze searing into my skin, setting every nerve alight.

"Enjoying the view?" I asked, my grin practically audible in my tone.

"Absolutely," Lando shot back, his own grin evident. "So hurry back."

After finishing in the restroom, I made my way back to the patio, where Lando stood waiting, leaning casually against the railing. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he wasted no time stepping forward to meet me.

"All set?" he asked, his lips curving into a wicked grin.

I nodded, and without another word, he took my hand, pulling me toward the entrance. His movements were quick and deliberate as he retrieved the keys from the valet, thanking him with a brief nod.

Once inside the car, Lando revved the engine of his sleek McLaren, the low growl vibrating through the air. He shot me a glance, his eyes dark with intent. "Buckle up, princess. The faster we get home, the sooner I can have my way with you."

I barely managed to fasten my seatbelt before he hit the gas, the car roaring to life as we sped onto the open road. The city lights blurred around us, but my focus was entirely on him—and the way his free hand found its way to my thigh.

His touch was firm, deliberate, and impossibly distracting. His fingers traced slow, tantalizing patterns on the fabric of my dress, sending shivers through my body as the cool night air rushed in through the slightly cracked window.

His touch started slow, his fingers tracing light, teasing patterns on the fabric of my dress. "You’re so damn gorgeous, you know that?" he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire.

His hand didn’t stop moving, and as the car took a slight turn, the motion caused my dress—already riding up from the way I was sitting—to inch higher, baring more of my legs. Lando noticed instantly.

"Looks like this dress wants to cooperate with me tonight," he said, his tone dripping with amusement as his fingers brushed the newly exposed skin.

I gasped softly at the contact, my breath hitching as he let his fingers press just a little firmer, sliding further up my thigh. 

"Lando," I breathed, my voice betraying the way his touch was unraveling me.

"Yes, princess?" he asked, his lips quirking into a smirk as his fingers teased the sensitive skin just above my knee.

"You’re driving way too fast," I managed to say, though my words lacked conviction.

He chuckled, the sound deep and full of mischief. "I always drive fast, love. Besides, don’t act like you don’t love the adrenaline—just like you’re loving this."  his hand slipping higher, just under the hem of my dress, which had now ridden up enough to expose the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

The combination of his touch and the hum of the engine sent a thrilling tension coursing through me. I gripped the edge of my seat, half from the speed and half from the way his hand kept inching closer to the heat pooling between my legs.

I bit my lip, my hands gripping the edge of the seat as his fingers made lazy circles , sending jolts of heat through my body.

"God, you’re so responsive," he said, his voice dripping with admiration and desire. His thumb brushed a little higher, just beneath the fabric of my dress, and my head fell back against the seat.

"Lando," I whispered, my tone equal parts plea and warning.

"Hmm?" he hummed, clearly enjoying every second of this. His fingers stayed just shy of where I needed him most, teasing me mercilessly.

"You’re going to kill me," I muttered, my voice breathless.

He laughed, his hand retreating slightly, but only to give my thigh a firm squeeze. "Not tonight, princess. Tonight, I’m going to keep you very much alive—and make sure everyone in the neighborhood knows exactly who makes you feel that way."

-------------------

By the time we reached his house, my heart was racing, and the heat between us was palpable. As soon as the car stopped, he was out and around to my side in an instant, opening the door for me. "Come on," he said, his voice full of promise as he took my hand and led me inside.

My heart thudded in my ears, a frantic rhythm fueled by excitement and nerves. I couldn’t help but wonder if the girls had seen us or heard the car pass by.

We rushed into the house, and as the front door clicked shut behind us, reality hit me all at once. I was in his house. He slept here, lived here, called this place home. These walls had witnessed so much of his life—friends, family, ex-girlfriends—both in moments of joy and sorrow.

The quiet hum of the outside world faded, replaced by a softer, warmer ambiance. A low melody drifted through the air—smooth jazz, wrapping itself around me like a cozy blanket.

“I didn’t know you were such a fan of calm music,” I teased, glancing at him with a playful smirk.

“Well, let me show you all the things about me you could fall in love with,” he replied with a soft chuckle.

The lighting was warm and inviting, golden hues glinting off polished surfaces. The simple yet elegant chandelier cast a gentle glow, complementing the room’s ambiance.

His words sent a flutter of butterflies through my stomach. He took my hand, lacing our fingers together as he led me deeper into the house.

I glanced around, taking in the space. It was effortlessly stylish yet distinctly him—comfortable, modern, and charmingly chaotic. A teetering stack of books rested precariously on the coffee table, with a few racing magazines tucked underneath. The oversized, plush couch had a throw blanket draped over one arm, the kind of detail that hinted at lazy afternoons and cozy evenings.

“It’s, uh... cozier than I expected,” I said, raising a brow at him.

Lando shrugged, following my gaze. “What can I say? I like a little organized chaos.” He flashed that boyish grin that never failed to disarm me.

I wandered further into the room, my fingers grazing the edge of the couch before stopping by the shelves near the window. They were lined with an eclectic mix of trophies, framed photos, and random trinkets. One photo in particular caught my eye—a candid shot of him laughing with his family at what looked like a barbecue.

Seeing that side of him made my chest tighten in the best way.

“You’re really just going to stand there judging my decor?” His voice, mockingly indignant, pulled me from my thoughts. “I thought you were here to spend time with me, not critique my vibe.”

I smirked, turning to face him with a playful glint in my eye. “I’m not judging, just... observing. You can tell a lot about a person from their living room.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged, stepping closer. “And what does mine say about me?”

“That you’re sentimental... a little messy... but mostly just hopelessly charming,” I said, tilting my head as if scrutinizing him.

“Hopelessly charming?” he echoed, his grin widening as he stopped just a step away. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I teased, crossing my arms.

“Too late.” He reached out, tugging me gently by the waist until I was pressed against him. “Besides, if I’m hopeless, it’s because of you.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing as I playfully shoved his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, dipping his head until his nose brushed against mine.

Before I could respond, he pulled back slightly, his gaze softening. “Can I get you something? A drink, maybe?”

“A drink sounds perfect,” I said, following him into the kitchen.

The kitchen was as unassuming as the living room—sleek countertops, minimal clutter, save for a lone mug on the island that read “#1 Driver.”

He opened the fridge, glancing over his shoulder. “What’s your poison? Wine, something stronger, or one of my world-famous gin and tonics?”

I leaned against the counter, arching a brow. “World-famous, huh? Should I be honored?”

“Extremely,” he said with a straight face, pulling out a bottle of gin and setting it on the counter with a flourish. “You’re about to experience greatness.”

I laughed, watching as he moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, humming along to the music still drifting in from the other room. There was something magnetic about the way he moved—relaxed, confident, unapologetically himself.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I said as he handed me a finished drink, complete with a perfectly sliced lime wedge on the rim.

“Maybe,” he admitted, clinking his glass gently against mine. “But only because I finally get to show you my world.”

I took a sip, savoring the crisp, refreshing taste. “Not bad,” I said with an approving nod.

“Not bad?” He clutched his chest dramatically. “That’s the best gin and tonic you’ll ever have.”

I laughed, setting my glass down and grabbing his hand. “Okay, Mr. World-Famous Bartender. Show me what else this place has to offer.”

“Gladly,” he replied, intertwining our fingers and gently nudging me so my back hit the kitchen island. “But first, there’s one rule.”

“Oh?” I asked, arching a brow. “What’s that?”

“Tonight, you let me show you exactly how beautiful you are—and how absolutely crazy you make me,” he said, caging me between his arms.

My brain short-circuited, imagining what he’d look like if he turned the yearning up just a bit more. I’d probably combust right then and there.

---------------

Lando’s POV

The daze in her eyes brought out a siren-like allure, making my brain spiral with questions about everything that had led to this moment. Her gaze wasn’t pleading for me to take control—it was imagining how good I’d look on my knees for her.

My eyes flicked between hers, smoldering with lust, and her pink-tinted lips, practically begging for my attention.

My arms stayed firmly in place, caging her in. “You’re such a naughty girl, you know that?” I murmured, a grin spreading across my face, helpless against the pull of her energy.

“What did I do?” she shot back, her expression a mix of mock shock and amusement, barely holding back her laughter. “You’re the one pinning me here like a prisoner.”

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against the curve of her ear. “But you’re the one with those eyes,” I whispered, my voice low and teasing, “practically begging for me to get on my knees and let you have me in any way you want.”

Her breath hitched at my words, her cheeks flushing a shade deeper as my voice hung in the charged air between us. For a moment, she didn’t reply, her lips parting slightly, betraying her effort to keep control of the situation.

She tilted her chin up, regaining just enough composure to fire back, “Maybe I am. But are you brave enough to follow through?” Her tone was bold, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her excitement.

I chuckled softly, the sound rumbling low in my chest. “Oh, sweetheart,” I murmured, my lips brushing her earlobe again, “you have no idea how far I’m willing to go for you.”

Without waiting for a reply, I loosened my hold, my hands sliding down to rest at her hips. Slowly, I began to sink to my knees, keeping my eyes locked on hers. The moment was deliberate, unhurried, as if I had all the time in the world to unravel her. I want to unravel her, make her desire explode in ways she didn’t know she could.

Her breath quickened, her chest rising and falling in time with the pounding of her heart. She leaned back slightly against the counter for support, her fingers gripping the edge as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Still think I’m just talking big?” I teased, my voice husky as I placed a feather-light kiss on the inside of her wrist, trailing lower with each touch.

Her lips parted again, but no words came out—just a shaky exhale that sent a jolt of satisfaction straight through me.

Her fingers found their way into my hair, tugging lightly, testing how much control she could claim. I let her have it, for now, leaning into her touch as I kissed my way up her arm. Slowly, I raised her leg, placing her heel gently on my lap, the slit of her dress parting to reveal my next target. My lips moved from the arch of her foot, still adorned in her heels, climbing slowly up her thigh. I left wet, circular patterns with my tongue, just a hint of what my mouth was capable of, teasing her with the promise of what was yet to come. My fingers followed, brushing along her skin with a deliberate slowness, savoring the softness of her skin on my lips.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she finally whispered, her voice thick with anticipation.

I grinned against her skin, my hands tightening slightly on her thigh as I pulled her closer. “Good,” I replied, my tone dripping with mischief. “I like living on the edge.”

And the thought of letting the night unravel like this sent a shiver down my spine, igniting a thrill that was all too evident in the tightening of my jeans. I was resolute—ready to give her exactly what she craved, and perhaps even push her boundaries just enough to leave her breathless. 

“Tell me,” she said, her voice low and commanding. “Should I have you eat my pussy out right here, right now? Or do you want to show me just how much of a good boy you can be for me?” She leaned forward, locking eyes with me, her fingers gently lifting my chin to meet her gaze.

Her dominant tone washed over me, stirring something deep within. All I could think about was touching her, tasting the heat of her desire.

“As you wish, my princess,” I whisper, my voice strained with hunger. “I’m yours to command.” My breath hitched, each word leaving my lips heavier with need, though I fought to maintain my composure, desperately trying not to let my desires slip through.

“Well then” she stands up straight as she grips the back of my hair just a bit tighter, gesturing to me to stand up as well. 

She stepped closer to me, and unbuttons my shirt slowly, letting her finger tips brush over my chest with a wave of heat and electricity that made my cock twitch.

I could only grovel for so long before I bailed on the whole thing. I wanted to grab her hips, place my throbbing cock at her entrance and lose myself in her until the neighbors came knocking at my door, wondering who was being murdered and expecting me to be the killer.

I took a deep breath, allowing myself to relax and embrace my vulnerability. I trusted her completely, and she sensed it.

With a swift motion, she slid my shirt off, letting it drop to the floor. Hooking her index finger inside the waistband of my pants, she guided me down the hallway toward the front door, where a large body mirror stood against the wall.

She released me momentarily to fetch a chair from the dining room just a few steps away. I watched her every movement, my desire for her touch intensifying. She positioned the chair in front of the mirror and sat upon it like a queen on her throne, as if it had been hers since the dawn of time.

“Well, my sweet boy, I want you to show me what your tongue can do before I decide if you’ve been good enough to taste my pleasure,” she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. She spread her legs, inviting me to kneel between them, then slid the straps of her dress down to her waist, exposing her toned breasts to my eager gaze.

My mouth watered at the sight, and all I could manage was a low, husky, “Yes, princess,” before my hands found her hips, and I began to suck and lick her nipples, savoring every moment.

heightened my desire as I marked her skin with bite marks and hickeys, each one igniting the fire between us.

“Fuck, baby, with the way you’re working your mouth, I might just want to use it all night,” she breathed, her words thick with lust as she tangled her fingers in my hair.

“You can use my mouth however you want, princess. You can even sit on it, and I’ll show you real talent,” I managed to whisper between kisses, my tongue flicking and teasing her nipples, eager to please her in every way.

“Well then, I might just take you up on that offer,” she said, grabbing my head and guiding me to lay on the floor in front of her. For a moment, I forgot she was facing the mirror.

She stood up, sliding her dress and panties down, leaving her clad only in heels. As she stepped by my face, I was treated to a perfect view of her glistening wetness hovering above me.

My tongue instinctively began to escape my mouth as she looked down, tilting her head with a playful smirk.

“Aw, is my sweet boy begging for a taste?” she teased, her tone a mix of pouting and mockery.

“Yes, princess, I need you,” I replied, my voice thick with lust and longing.

“Well then, show me,” she commanded, sinking to her knees and positioning her arousal over my mouth, her fingers weaving back into my hair.

Her hips began to grind against my mouth, her creamy arousal coating my tongue as she leaned back, resting a hand on my abs.

A part of me feared she might tease me, trying to slide away from my eager mouth. Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around her thighs, pulling her hips close and tight against me.

The sound of her moans growing louder was music to my ears. “Fuck, princess, you taste so good; I want to devour you,” I murmured, my voice muffled as I pressed my tongue deeper into her, savoring every moment.

A part of me was curious how loud I could make her moan my name, imagining a tongue as wicked as venom the villain’s, but that was a fantasy that had no place in my mind at this moment.

I could feel her legs shaking as the first orgasm of the night washed over her.

“Fuck, Lando—” her words were swallowed by a moan as she rode out her high.

I didn’t want to stop, but I knew she would crave something a little… deeper.

“Fuck, princess, if I had known you were such a good rider, I would have let you take control from the first moment I saw you.” A smirk spread across my face, unable to hide the satisfaction and desire swelling within me, both emotionally and physically.

“Fuck, Lando, I’ve never felt this good,” she breathed, her voice heavy with drained adrenaline and satisfaction. A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes as she added, “And you know what?”

She slid back to sit on my abdomen, allowing me to prop myself up slightly to meet her gaze with a questioning look.

“I want to try something new,” she said, her eyes locking onto mine with a playful innocence that hinted at her intentions.

“Which is?” I leaned in, craving the touch of her lips. Y/N moved closer, kissing me softly before teasingly licking the corner of my mouth, catching an escaped drop of her essence.

“Mmm, I do taste good. Anyway, I was thinking maybe you could train me on something,” a smirk blossomed on her lips.

“Why are you being so cryptic, princess?” I replied, my curiosity piqued as a smirk formed on my face. “You know I’ll be your good boy for the night; anything you want is a yes from me.”

“Well, I was thinking we could try…” Her cheeks flushed deeper as she leaned in to whisper her request in my ear, “anal training.”

Her voice was hot against my skin, and I could barely process what she had just said. My shocked expression spoke volumes, my thoughts racing faster than I could articulate.

She leaned back, her cheeks still flushed. “I mean, it’s a big ask. I would understand if you don’t want to,” a hint of embarrassment crept into her voice, snapping me out of my daze.

“Are you kidding? I really want to, but are you sure you want to do this? There are things we need to prepare for, right?” My mouth rambled on before my brain could catch up, and I noticed the shift in her expression as I spoke.

“Oh, that’s true. Makes sense. But are you actually down to do this later on?” Her face perked up with excitement as she regained her energy.

“Of course, but for now, use me as you need,” a soft smirk crossed my face. “You know, I’m totally down if you want to sit on my face again.” A small chuckle spilled from her mouth.

“Nope, now I want you to lead me to your room to show those walls some action.” She stood up and grabbed my hand.

---------------

Y/N's POV

With Lando’s fingers intertwined with mine, he leads the way up a black-and-white staircase with glass sides. Automated lights brighten the hallway, revealing a few guest rooms that appear unoccupied, along with a space that seems designed for gaming and recording, illuminated by vibrant LED lights. Towards the end of the hall, a door is slightly ajar.

“So, care to stay the night?” Lando glances back at me.

“Maybe another time. I just need to check on you and head home before the girls think I’ve been kidnapped or worse,” I say, winking at him with a cheeky smile.

A grin spreads across his face, sending butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. In less than a second, Lando sweeps me up by my hips and tosses me over his shoulder like a bag of rice.

Part of me is too confused to register what’s happening, while another part can’t help but let out a constant giggle, wondering, What the heck are you doing?

Do I like this? Is this what it means to be manhandled?

His arm wraps around my waist to stabilize me as I struggle to gather my thoughts. Suddenly, I feel a sharp sting on my cheek, followed by a playful smack on my bare ass that sends my arousal soaring to a whole new level.

“You're moving way too slowly,” Lando says, trying to justify his actions. “And the spank was for teasing me so much tonight.”

Before I could respond with a playful act of revenge, his free hand began to explore my wet core. Each delicate touch on my clit made my back arch, and my fingers dug into his muscular back, leaving red lines as reminders of the moment.

“And that… is for being so damn irresistible” Lando’s voice low and soft as he places a soft kiss on my thigh, sending a shiver through my body from the tingling sensation.

I had expected him to hurry into the room, but with his touch igniting my skin, a moan escaped me, stretching the moment into what felt like an eternity.

Once we reached his room, he wasted no time, tossing me onto his bed. Lying there, facing him as he stood at the edge, all I could think about was how much I wanted him to keep his promise.

“So, are you enjoying the view this time around?” he asked, a smirk growing on his lips as he shifted his muscular arms to wrap around my thighs, pulling me closer.

“What can I say? I love a Magic Mike preview,” I replied, a giggle escaping my lips mid-movement.

“Oh, I think you paid for the full show. No?” His grin turned mischievous.

If I could read his mind, I’d find only unholy thoughts of what this man intended to do to me, and I was more than willing to oblige.

His lips danced with butterfly kisses across my stomach, moving up to my breasts, while his fingers explored every inch of my body, sending electric shocks that would make f(x) nostalgic, and made me beg for more.

His lips found my nipple, swirling it with his tongue while he massaged my other breast with his hand.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed of this exact scenario,” Lando murmured, his voice melting into my chest.

“Really? Tell me about it,” I replied, tangling my fingers in his hair and gripping ever so slightly.

“That first night… when I saw you in the mirror,” he said, his voice husky and low between kisses and licks.

His words sent shivers down my spine, igniting a thrill that made the wetness between my legs even more intense.

“I was sitting on the bed, watching you, fucking yourself. Just imagine how good your moans would sound if your hand wasn’t covering your mouth.” His words drip with lust as hickeys and bruises form on my sensitive skin.

“Did you just watch me, or did you do something?” I needed to know the answer, aware that either response would make me crave him inside me instantly.

“I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen anything, but I couldn’t. All I could think about was how badly I wanted you on my cock. I started touching my cock, watching you get that dildo inside you and out.” he continued.

“Fuck, I need more, fuck me Lan, I need you” My voice was laced with desperation as I tugged a little harder on his hair.

“Are we already begging?” A smirk grew on his lips as he positioned himself at my entrance, thrusting into my pussy, which wrapped tightly around his cock.

His movements made my back arch, and I gripped the sheets so hard they felt like they might rip, aching for every inch of him to feel my desire.

As he thrust into me with rough, needy motions, he pressed his palm against my lower stomach and began rubbing my clit with his thumb, driving me closer to the edge. The static energy coursing through my body was intense as I struggled to hold back my climax.

“That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his voice intoxicating like whiskey. “You’re so close; I can feel your pussy tightening around me.”

My body was unable to respond as I felt his hand leave my clit, moving up to wrap around my jaw, forcing my mouth open with his cum-covered thumb.

“Look at me, Y/N.” His breath burned on my skin as he placed a hickey on my neck, marking his territory. “I want to see you in the eyes when you’re cumming all over my cock, like a good little slut.”

His words brought me to the brink, and I struggled to meet his gaze, locking my eyes onto his. Lando’s thrusts softened as I rode the waves of my orgasm, shaking and gripping the sheets for dear life, moaning his name so loudly that I could see his grin widening in response.

After a few more thrusts, Lando leaned onto the bed, hovering over me. I felt his warmth as he released himself inside me, each pulse sending shockwaves through my body. To my surprise, he didn’t pull away; instead, he let our essence drip and overflow around him, igniting a deeper desire within me.

As our bodies began to untangle, Lando resumed his rhythm, sending my already sensitive body into a state of overwhelming pleasure. “Lando, what—” My words faltered, lost in the sensations coursing through me.

“Sluts receive rewards for being good girls, no?” Lando’s mischievous grin was unmistakable, his eyes sparkling with playful dominance. 

My hand grasped his arm as his body hovered over mine. I placed tender kisses along his veins, feeling the warmth pulse beneath my lips. With each thrust, he moved faster and deeper, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me, making me see stars.

“Fuck, baby, plea—” I was caught in a whirlwind of desire, unsure if I was begging him to continue or pleading for him to stop, and the latter felt impossible. 

Lando's hand roamed down my body, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation into an agonizing pressure. 

As soon as his fingers found their way to my sensitive clit, my body twitched involuntarily. 

Just then, a slightly muffled voice crept in from the window, but my mind struggled to grasp its meaning. 

The overstimulation faded as I realized that Lando had stopped, standing still and listening to the voices outside. Panic set in when I recognized Liana and Aaliyah; and they were looking for me.

“She didn’t say she was going anywhere, did she?” Aaliyah’s voice grew thick with worry.

My eyes widened at the realization that they were most definitely freaking out, and my phone was downstairs, blaring at full volume. If I could hear their voices all the way from here, they would surely recognize the distinct ringtone, muffled yet unmistakable, signaling that I was at the house next door. 

began to frantically pull myself off the bed, ready to rush downstairs, slip on my dress, and come up with a convincing lie about why I was wearing it and where my laptop had gone. Just then, Lando’s hand grabbed my arm, pulling me close into a bareback hug.

“Princess, I know you need to leave, but the dress will be hard to explain,” he murmured, his voice soft against my skin.

“Then what do you suggest I do, go naked?” A chuckle escaped my lips, the absurdity of the situation hitting me.

“Even though I’d love to see you walking naked in the street, dripping with my cum, I wouldn’t want to pluck the eyes out of every man who dares to look at you.” His arms tightened around me as he placed a passionate kiss on my neck.

“Come with me. Let’s get you something to wear.” Lando began leading the way into his walk-in closet.

As he rummaged through his drawers, he pulled out an oversized black hoodie emblazoned with his company’s logo, “Quadrant,” in graffiti-style neon colors. I could only guess it was either a limited edition or from an upcoming collection.

He handed me the hoodie, and I eagerly awaited the moment he would offer me a pair of pants or something similar, giving him an inquiring look.

“I think this hoodie should be long enough for you to consider it a dress,” a slight smirk broke across his face.

“Absolutely not! It won’t even cover my ass fully; I need pants… or at least shorts.” I slipped the hoodie over my body and glanced at myself in the mirror, assessing how much coverage I would actually get.

I turned to him, the fabric hanging loosely around my frame, barely grazing my thighs. “See? This is not going to work,” I said, trying to suppress a smile at the absurdity of the situation.

Lando stepped closer, his gaze lingering on me with undeniable heat. “Actually, I think it looks incredible on you. You won’t need joggers; that hoodie is doing all the work.”

“But my ass is going to show! I can’t just walk out li—” My brain raced with anxiety over every aspect of our current situation.

“Come on, princess,” he urged, his voice low and soothing. “Just put it on. If it’s actually too short, I’ll give you some pants or even my briefs to wear.” He gave me a reassuring look, his confidence radiating and hoping to calm my nerves.

His words sent a thrill through me, and I found myself wavering, caught between embarrassment and the excitement of his bold suggestion.

After a few minutes of deliberation, I finally decided to wear one of Lando’s boxer briefs under the hoodie. I walked to the front entrance where the intimate part of our night had begun, collecting my panties and dress from the floor.

“Leave these here; I’ll drop them off another day so it doesn’t look suspicious,” Lando said, his voice low and husky as he leaned in, placing soft butterfly kisses along my neck.

“I have to go talk to the girls,” I murmured, my voice betraying a hint of anxiety.

Yet all I truly wanted was to skip ahead to the moment when the girls knew everything, and I could spend the night wrapped in his arms, feeling safe and desired.

I tried to take long, steady breaths as I approached the front door of our house. When I attempted to creak the door open, I found it locked, leaving me with no choice but to face the girls right here and now.

After a few seconds of gathering my courage, I rang the doorbell. I could hear Aaliyah’s frantic voice rushing to the door. “I’ll get it! That might be her!”

As soon as she opened the door and let me in, her eyes scanned my disheveled appearance and the messy state of my hair.

“Where were you? We were so worried! Liana was just about to call the police to file a missing persons report.”

I let out a slight chuckle, trying to sound as natural as possible. “Come on, I just went for a little walk and didn’t want to disturb your movie.”

Aaliyah’s expression said it all; she didn’t believe me, and rightfully so. I was just hoping she wouldn’t see through my facade in this moment.

Just as I thought I might escape Aaliyah's scrutiny, Liana appeared from the living room, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. “What’s going on? Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

Aaliyah crossed her arms, a knowing smile creeping onto her face. “Yeah, Liana. I was just asking her where she’s been. I think she snuck out to see someone.”

My heart raced, and I quickly shook my head. “Wha—no way! I just went for a walk to clear my head. Seriously, you guys are overreacting. I just needed a break from the project.”

Liana stepped closer, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Come on, Y/N. You can tell us if you were with someone. We won’t judge… for the most part.”

Heat crept up my cheeks. “I promise, it was nothing like that! I just needed some fresh air,” I insisted, trying to sound convincing.

Liana’s gaze closed in on me, knowing she had solid evidence regarding my movie-ditching offense. “Yeah? Then where’s the laptop, huh?”

After a slight moment of hesitation, I managed to speak, my voice an octave higher than usual. “Well, it’s in my room. I came in during the movie and then left again. I wasn’t going to take it with me on the walk.”

Aaliyah leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You sure it wasn’t a special someone? Because you’re acting a little too suspicious.”

“Absolutely not! I swear, I’m just tired and wanted to be alone for a bit,” I replied, forcing a laugh to lighten the mood. But inside, I was a bundle of nerves, praying they wouldn’t see through my lies.

Liana exchanged a glance with Aaliyah, both of them clearly unconvinced. “Alright, but if we find out you’re hiding something, we’re going to need all the juicy details,” Liana teased, her smile widening.

I took a deep breath, silently relieved that they hadn’t pressed further. “Fine, but there’s nothing to find. Can we just drop it?”

Liana crossed her arms, still eyeing me with playful suspicion. “You know we’re not going to let this go that easily, right? You can’t just waltz in here looking all flustered and fucked out of your mind and expect us to believe you were just out for a stroll.”

Aaliyah chimed in, her expression teasing yet serious. “Yeah, we’re your friends! It’s our job to investigate. So… Do you have anything to say, young lady?”

I let out a chuckle. “I appreciate the investigation, but it’s not necessary. I’ll definitely report to the CIA and FBI that you two have done a magnificent job with your investigative procedures.” 

I managed to sneak away to my room once they got engrossed in another movie.

[ssprayberrythings]

snow angels & ski trips | CL16

charles leclerc x female!girlfriend reader 

pov: a glimpse on how you and charles spend your holidays

warnings: none, just tooth rotting fluff cause im a hopeless romantic that got carried away while writing this

this is my first f1 related piece of work on here and also my first time writing in the social media format so i hope its okay and you like it <3

-

@yourusername posted on their story  

caption: where could we be going 😉

╰  @yoursister reply: cant wait to see you 

╰ @yourmom reply: so excited to see you and charles 🙂

@charles_leclerc posted on their story  

caption: she looks so peaceful 

*replies disabled* 

-

@f1_updates posted on their insta   

user1, user12, user2 and others liked 

charles and his girlfriend @yourusername met fans at the airport in y/n’s hometown, guess we know where they’re spending the holidays 

view all comments 

user1: awe he looks so cute 

user2: on twitter fans are saying y/n was offering to take everyones photos #couplegoals 

user12: i was there and omg they are the sweetest, y/n really compliments charles well 

╰ user4: really? i love that 

╰ user15: STOP I CANT 

user7: THE OUTFIT IM DYING 

-

@yourmom posted on their insta

yourusername , charles_leclerc & others liked 

waited for the last of my children to arrive home to finish decorating the tree 

tagged @yourusername @charles_leclerc

view all comments 

user1: IM SOBBING, Y/N’S MOM CONSIDERS CHARLES ONE OF HER CHILDREN 

user2: LET ME JUST TAKE A MOMENT TO APPRECIATE THIS CAPTION 

yourusername: love you mama <3 

charles_leclerc: thank you for letting me be part of this family tradition <3 

╰ liked by yourusername & yourmom 

user15: i’ll be crying for 5-10 business days, no one talk to me 

╰ user3: you and me both 

╰ user7: same here 

-

@yourusername posted on their insta   

charles_leclerc , landonorris & others liked 

home sweet home with my love 🥰

tagged @charles_leclerc 

view all comments 

user1: my parents 

user3: y/n is so wholesome, i love her with charles 

charles_leclerc: no where else id rather be ❤️ 

╰ liked by yourusername 

landonorris: i need to know, who won the gingerbread house contest ? 

╰ yourusername: hehe me and my sister 😹

╰ liked by landonorris & yoursister

user4: charles looks so happy 

user10: is no one gonna talk about the cute reindeers 

╰ liked by yourusername 

-

@yoursister posted on their story  

caption: thanks auntie y/n and uncle charlie for bringing my sweet pea to see the lights, she absolutely loved it <3 

╰ yourusername replied: anything for my niece, even if she did kick me out of the passenger seat to sit next to charles 

You and Charles carefully walked back into your childhood home, your niece fast asleep in Charles’ arms, her little head on his shoulder. 

“How was it?” your sister asked as she took the sleeping child from Charles “Great, she was in complete awe the whole time” you told your sister smiling “She even got to sit in the passenger seat” you added looking at Charles with an amusing look 

“How was I supposed to say no when she gave me the cutest dimpled smile” He exclaimed chuckling causing you and your sister to join in 

“Well I just appreciate you taking her, we should get going, but we’ll see you at Christmas?” your sister asked as she repositioned the child in her arms so she could slip her boots on 

“For sure” You replied, leaning in to give your sister a side hug and leaving a kiss on the sleeping girls forehead 

“Thanks auntie Y/N for taking me to the lights” your niece mumbled half awake, half asleep 

“Anything for you sweet girl” you told the girl back before showing your sister out, making sure her and your niece were safely in the car before shutting the door and turning to your boyfriend who let out a yawn causing you to chuckle

“Is someone tired?” you asked playfully, walking into his arms looking up at him  “Maybe a little bit” he said in response to your question looking down at you

 “Why don’t I make us some hot cocoa and then we can go cuddle?” You offered “Sounds good to me” he smiled and leant down to give you a quick kiss, knowing you were both enjoying this peaceful moment

-

@yourusername posted on their insta   

charles_leclerc , yoursister & others liked 

its a winter wonderland ❄️

tagged @charles_leclerc

view all comments 

user1: they’re so cute it hurts 

user2: this called me single in so many way 

user6: i just want this 

╰ user5: same 

╰ user10: same 

╰ user8: same 

user11: so we’re all just single this winter season? 

╰ user1: looks that way 

charles_leclerc: never met anyone who loves snow as much as you do 

charles_leclerc: my little snow angel 👼 

╰ yourusername: that is so cheesy but i love it 

╰ charles_leclerc: i love you 

╰ yourusername: i love you 😘 

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@charles_leclerc posted on their story  

caption: cuddle pile 

*replies have been disabled* 

@yourusername posted on their story  

caption: my own prince charming 🤍

*replies have been disabled* 

-

@charles_leclerc posted on their insta   

yourusername, pierregasly, landonorris & others liked 

never been happier then when im with you. 

je t’aime, mon amour 🤍 

tagged: @yourusername

view all comments 

user1: OKAY I CANT 

user2: anyone else just want to climb under a rock for the rest of their existence 

╰ user3: yes 

user4: if anyone needs me i’ll be taking a bath with my toaster 

yourusername: charles, im blushing 

yourusername: i love you..almost as much as i love snow 

╰ charles_leclerc: ALMOST AS MUCH? that hurts 

╰ user9: y/n and her snow..the real iconic pairing here 

╰ user15: agreed @user9

pierregasly: seriously though @yourusername how many times did he fall on the ice ? 

╰ landonorris: we need to know @yourusername

╰ user7: y/n please give us the information we all need 

╰ yourusername: only a few times .maybe a bit more..

╰ liked by pierregasly & landonorris 

╰ charles_leclerc: babeeeee dont expose me and my terrible skating skills 

╰ yourusername: my deepest apologies..but seriously i’m afraid to take you skating again.. 

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@charles_leclerc posted on their story  

caption: happy holidays everyone. hope everyone is spending time with the people they love the most ❤️

*replies disabled* 

@yourusername posted on their story

captions: christmas dessert prep 🥧 & happy holidays everyone ❤️

*replies disabled* 

-

@yourusername posted on their story  

caption: weekend getaway ⛷️❄️

╰ yourbestfriend: have so much fun ;) 

╰ landonorris: cant wait to hear all about it..;) 

╰ yourusername: why are you being weird? do you know something? 

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@yourusername posted on their insta   

yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc, pierregasly & others liked 

he hasn’t stopped looking at me like this…what is he planning 🤭

tagged @charles_leclerc

view all comments 

user1: get yourself someone that looks at you the way charles looks at y/n 

user2: where can i find one of these ? asking for a friend 😩

user3: god has favourites 

charles_leclerc: why do i have to be planning something? can’t i just admire my beautiful girlfriend

user5: charles anytime y/n is around: 🥰🥰🥰

@charles_leclerc posted on his story  

caption: i love you 

╰ yourusername: i love you more 

╰ pierregasly: have you done it yet? 

╰ charles_leclerc: no..soon though..! 

-

@yourusername posted on their insta   

charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, pierregasly & others liked 

not captured in these photos, the tears rolling down my face 

my forever 🥹💍 ✨

tagged: charles_leclerc 

view all comments 

yourbestfriend: YAYYYYY HE DID IT !!!! 

╰ yourusername: YOU KNEW?

╰ yourbestfriend: OF COURSE, WHY ELSE DID I MAKE SURE YOU HAD YOUR NAILS DONE 

user1: OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG 

user2: THEYRE GETTING MARRIED 

user3: I’M CRYING user4: THEY FOUND THEIR FOREVER, NO ONE TALK TO ME 

landonorris: congratulations ! it was hard keeping this a secret  

╰ yourusername: YOU KNEW TOO? 

╰ landonorris: yes, i was with him when he bought it 😎

charles_leclerc: cant wait for a forever of snow ball fights, ski trips, holidays with our families, laughs, cuddles, i could keep going but you get the point. 

╰ yourusername: 🥹🥹🥹

charles_leclerc: i love you, mon amour ❤️

╰ liked by yourusername 

@charles_leclerc posted on their insta  

yourusername, landonorris, pierregasly & others liked 

here’s to forever mon amour ❤️💍

tagged: yourusername 

view all comments 

yourusername: no one else i’d rather spend the rest of my life with ❤️

╰ liked by charles_leclerc 

╰ user2: im never moving on from this 

user3: they are my roman empire 

user5: im😭 so 😭happy 😭for 😭them 😭

pierregasly: congrats man! 😁

╰ liked by charles_leclerc

landonorris: congrats mate !! 

╰ liked by charles_leclerc

You and Charles were back at the cabin you were staying at for the weekend. Charles was talking on the phone with his brothers and his mom getting their congratulations even though you made sure your immediate family members knew before you both decided to post on social media. 

You were sitting by the fireplace, curled up with a hot cocoa wearing one of Charles’ sweatshirts, admiring the ring on your finger, you still couldn’t believe you were marrying the love of your life. It felt like a dream, one you never wanted to wake up from. 

“What are you thinking about mon amour?” Charles asked coming into the living area off of the phone. He sat beside you, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer to him 

“Just this” you told him referring to the ring he gave you a few hours prior “Cant believe I’m going to be your wife” you smiled, looking at him 

“I’d marry you right now if it was an option” He told you returning the same, lovesick smile you were giving him.

“I think our mothers would have heart attacks if we eloped” You joked, knowing your mother was already in wedding mode even if it had only been a few hours “I know” he chuckled, agreeing with you 

“Seriously though I’m so lucky” You said giving him a kiss on the cheek 

“I’m the lucky one” Charles told you, kissing your head as you laid it on his shoulder “You’re my everything”.

You couldn’t see him but you could hear his smile and you wore a very similar one on your own face.

This was your forever and you couldn’t be happier. 

-

ahhh i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! i already have so many other ideas in the works so if this does well i'll definitely start working on them. anyways feel free to comment your thoughts and happy holidays !

[miwiheroes]

Hii, not really a question but I'm rewatching s2 and I noticed a parallel between the "we like steve... but we don't love steve" and Nancy stammering quite a bit to say "I- I do" and Mike having a similar response during his fight with El. I don't really know if you or someone else had already noticed that but felt the need to say it

Dropping Byler Evidence Every (Other) Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Day 32: Murray's Conversation w/ Jancy . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

@j-gvellthings hope u don't mind I hijacked ur ask to use for my post thing i just think this is uber interesting <3

Honestly, that whole conversation with Murray and those scenes could absolutely apply to Byler and Jancy at the same time. In some moments, I feel like what he says could actually apply to Mike more than Nancy.

Jancy say they're "just friends" here ^^ and obviously,,, if you've watched literally any romcom or show with romance in, you'd know that if someone is a little two defensive about the two of them being friends, then the audience is supposed to imply that they could be something more than that -- which happens with Byler in S4, when Mike unnecessarily calls them friends. It's not in the same context obviously, but Mike takes it romantically.

Murray also says that Jonathan and Nancy have 'shared trauma' which is apparently the 'real shit' (meaning the apex of the conversation and the most important thing). Now, this obviously applies to Jancy because they went through a lot and that's what creates this meaningful bond between the two of them. Steve does not understand what Nancy's been through -- Jonathan does. And vice versa i guess.

Byler also have this exact dynamic. Mike was with Will during S2 when all that shit happened - and the subsequent dynamic has shifted so Mike seems like the only one that really understands what Will goes through. They also both go through the same types of bullying, which is shown in S1.

Some examples of their 'shared trauma' dynamic are:

Will says that Mike shouldn't tell anyone else about his True Sight because 'they won't understand' - S2E02

Mike says that Will is quiet today and Lucas brushes it off, but Mike sees it as something deeper - S2E01

Will only tells Mike about D'art and Mike is the one to shout at the others and gets rid of his problem for him - S2E03

At the Snow Ball, Will looks at Mike when a girl asks him out, because he's so used to checking with him for things - S2E09

Mike asks Will if he's okay at the movie theatre because he's so in tune with Will's emotions surrounding scary stuff (they were about to watch a horror movie) - S3E01

I only really named ones in S2 because that's the season where Murray actually says that so I feel like it has more value when it's all in S2

"Trust issues am I right? Something to do with your dad."

Obviously, we all know that Will's had issues with his homophobic father - so has Jonathan, so it can apply to both of them. Most of Will's internalised homophobia can be traced back to bullying which includes his father.

It is shown right from the beginning of the whole show that Lonnie calls Will slurs, and attempts to make him like things that any 'normal' boy should want. Jonathan counteracts this by telling Will that he shouldn't just like things because people tell you to and telling Will that it's much better to be a 'freak' than normal.

This homophobic bullying could arguably lead to trust issues for Will - his internalised homophobia from his dad is what is keeping him from telling Mike the truth. He's afraid that Mike 'won't like the truth' because of the things he's experienced in the past.

Now, the one where Murray calls out Nancy is way more interesting:

"You. You're harder to read."

Nancy is of course, harder to read than Jonathan because she hides so much -- she's harder for the audience to figure out because she's in a relationship already. Even so, I think this applies to Mike even more than Nancy. We have Nancy's POV. We can often see what she's thinking and feelings, but with Mike, we haven't had his POV and private thoughts and inner conflicts since S2. For two whole seasons, there has been barely a moment of introspection for Mike. The audience has constantly questioned what the hell he's thinking and why he's acting this way.

It's simple -- he's supposed to be harder to read.

"Probably, like everyone, afraid of what would happen if you... accepted yourself for who you really are"

HELLO? I think when i rewatched this I was a little confused because the wording of this sentence does not really allude to Nancy's issues alone. She is, of course, afraid of accepting who she really is, but it's hard to see that as her main character arc. She's more afraid of leaving the safety of Steve, but this wording is just so oddly familiar to someone telling someone who's queer to accept themselves.

Literally Mike's arc - he's afraid of what would happen if he accepted himself. If he accepted himself - it would mean he realises he doesn't love El, which means he's failed her and has to break up with her. He might lose her if he accepts himself. Idk, the wording is just tooooo suspicious to just apply to Nancy here.

"retreated back to the safety of... Name?" "Steve"

This is kind of insane UM,,, so Nancy uses Steve as her safety blanket because he's a well-respected, popular person at school and has a lot of money, which is similar to her parents' situation. Being with Jonathan is the less secure option, but it aligns with her true feelings. Which means the audience should want her to be with the person she actually loves rather than someone she doesn't want to lose purely based on safety.

Mike literally does this returning to the safe option thing 3 times in the show...

Mike slowly realises that meeting Will was the best thing he ever did, not meeting El, not helping her etc. This happens over the course of S2, and Mike accepts that El is gone, placing her in the same category as Bob when talking to Max. When El comes back, he's torn between the two, and we can see this dilemma in the Snow Ball scene. Will is off with someone else - Mike is questioning why he's feeling like this and what he should do - so he sacrifices his true feelings for what he feels is the greater good and what he should just do, which is to stay with El.

At the end of S3, Mike realises something and is scared of what this could mean. He realises that he has been trying to change himself too much over the course of the summer and just wants things to go back to the way they were. In S4, he attempts to cover up his feelings and push them down because he's afraid of what would happen of he accepted himself, and pretends to be in a normal, healthy relationship.

During S4, Mike realises that his relationship with El is something that he's insecure about, and often confides in Will about this. He alerts to Will that he should have 'explained himself' to El, rather than telling her I love you, implying that he doesn't want to say that ever. He agrees with Will that the truth could hurt someone he cares about. He's worried that El doesn't need him anymore, and is happy when Will tells him that she'll need him no matter what - but he still has to be encouraged by Will's words to say I love you to her. This is for the greater good - what he thinks will keep her alive and what he thinks she needs.

So again, Mike and El's relationship is built on commitment and safety - being with Will is the least safe option because it would mean having to look inside himself, accepting himself, and possibly losing El, who he still cares about.

"We like Steve." "Yes!" "But we don't love Steve."

This one's pretty self-explanatory and was the original point of the ask above - Nancy has literally in this season told Steve the words 'I love you'. You can say those words even when you don't mean it, the writers aren't that stupid to be worried that the viewers will suddenly go "OH BUT WHAT ABOUT THAT ONE TIME-"

But, obviously, before Nancy went off with Jonathan, the last thing she talked to him about was their argument about her not being able to say I love you to him - in that argument, when asked to tell him, she stumbles and goes "Really?" before they're interrupted. Then she can't say anything. She can't say it because it's not true.

Sound familiar? - while there are many more nuanced aspects to Mileven's scenes in S4, it is arguably similar to the Stancy's plot that Murray is talking about. Nancy 'likes' Steve, but her feelings aren't deeper than that. She cares about him, but that doesn't have to necessarily mean she loves him romantically. In the same sense, Mike blurts out "I care for you" instead of "I love you" during their argument.

Nancy stumbles over her words trying to deny it - which is the same with Mike when he gets confronted about it in S4, leading to him trying to gaslight and become defensive, using words like "ruin" and "ridiculous".

All I'm trying to say here is that the Duffers aren't strangers to writing a plot where a character is repressing their feelings and using a relationship as protection in order to hide who they really are. And the lines are written to be so non-specific that we can't ignore that they can easily apply to Byler as well as Jancy.

[oatmealwrites]

A Night To... Forget? Ch. 2

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! Reader

Part 1 | Part 2!

(Notes: Jackson Wang is a side character LMAO [ i needed a non-pro hero buddy for reader.]

Slow burn for sure but there's some tension brewing ~~ (smut soon to follow)

Tags: jealous aizawa, mentions of masturbation, mentions of alcohol, hopeless pining by both reader and aizawa, drunken flirting, slowww burn, some established history between aizawa and reader, reader is in their early/mid 20s, aizawa POV at end(mainly SFW, but NSFW next chap most likely)

Word Count: 5.9k

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WARNING: jackson wang is a character LMAO

It’s impossible to focus. You’ve been staring at the same paragraph in your law textbook for 15 minutes now, trying your best to ignore the steady pounding in your skull. When you initially arrived, 20 minutes late, the two friends waiting at the reserved table gave you an immediate look of pity; hair unwashed, sunglasses on, and a matching sweatsuit from the university merchandise clearance rack. Your usual hangover uniform.

You peel your eyes off the textbook and reach for your water bottle, silently wondering how long you had to wait in between pain killer dosages. For your own sanity, your cellphone is on silent and tucked in the very bottom of your backpack, which is also placed under your chair.

God this is impossible.

Keigo was absolutely NO help this morning. After the initial panic of not being able to recall anything beyond being let in by the bouncer and then seeing the message from Aizawa, the both of you stopped breathing. At first, you both just stared at the message, ignoring the sluggishness of the acute alcohol poisoning, before Keigo snatched your phone and took off to the other side of the couch.

“Give it back asshole!”

“No way!” Keigo moves around the couch to mirror your efforts, one hand pointing at you with the other holding the phone “You would send something dumb back, I would actually help you get in his pants.”

You shuffle from one side to the other, making a few dives to reach your phone, but falling short.

“What if I just want to get to know him first? Huh?”

Keigo begins typing something and your efforts get more desperate, “You already kinda know him and he sucks, trust me - just get it out of your system and get over him.” “You don’t know that! You barely work any cases with him!”

Keigo ignores you and continues drafting something, with one last effort you climb over the arm of the couch and jump onto his arm. The phone is squished between you both as the two of you begin wrestling over the furniture.

“I’m helping-”

“No, you’re just gonna fuck it up!”

PING!

The two of you stop short, your first holding his hair and his arm in a half-headlock around your neck; your phone glows on the floor with the screen ‘message sent’. Silently, both you and Keigo step off the couch and crouch down.

To: Aizawa Shouta

FeliN-g a litL3e uder the weather Hoe about u?

Mybe wwe shold me5t up n recoverr?

Your leg is bouncing up and down in anxious energy and you resign to leaning back in your chair and looking around the library. That fucking idiot.

It’s the only thing you can think about, that stupid message and the fact you will NEVER be able to forget it until you die. After Keigo accidentally sent it, you both spent the next 20 minutes arguing, trying to unsend it, and then arguing some more; eventually you shut it off, kicked him out, and ran to the library in an attempt to salvage your scheduled study time.

Can’t the world just swallow me whole? Seeing Keigo beat up after a mission would be nice too.

You sigh and turn back to your book, fiddling with the edges of the paper and resting the fat of your cheek in your hand. The words are boring and unimportant, and in this moment you’re beyond grateful for your quirk. Concentrating a little bit, you scan the page line by line, committing each phrase to memory for use later.

The library is mainly empty on this level, the loft overlooking the main floor and entrance doors. Some students come in and out; most are carrying coffees and are dressed for an early morning cram session on a Saturday, forgoing social events for upcoming exams.

You have your own finals coming up alongside several new cases your externship mentor has set aside for you. At least a dozen new case files had been forwarded to you overnight, a few requiring you to stop by UA and speak with the heroes who were involved with the villain’s arrest.

“You look more hungover than usual. You’ve barely finished the first chapter...”

You look over to your friend on the right side, Dru, she doesn’t even look up from her book while she speaks, too focused on getting the material down.

A slight rumble emits from your stomach and you fidget in your seat, “Yea I’m just hungry and… can’t think straight.”

She hums and continues reading, the conversation could end there but the anxiety of the situation makes you wanna yap.

“I may have also sent a drunk…? No, just a very poorly worded text to a guy..”

The words get quieter and you sink into your seat as you talk, though the sentence is enough to make both of them look up from their books and stare at you.

“Huh?” They say in unison.

“Who?”

“What did you say?”

“This morning or did you send it last night?”

“Is he cute?”

You lean forward onto the table and rub your eyes under your sunglasses and sigh, “My coworker. It was a very poorly misspelled text asking to meet up. Sent it this morning. And uhh..” your cheeks burn from under your hands, “yea..”

The two look at each other and then turn to you, forgetting the material in front of them and demanding to know more. Dru leans in, “Ok come on, you have to show us.”

Jackson, the friend on the left, leans in and pushes his textbook back, “Where did you even get drunk? I didn’t throw a party yesterday.”

You keep your head in your hands and refuse to look up for a moment, now staring at the mess of words underneath your elbows, “It was after yesterday’s sentencing, Keigo dragged me out.”

They both wince and Jackson shakes his head, “Now your outfit makes even more sense.

I don't know anyone who can survive his drinking games without getting shitfaced.”

You sigh and look off into space, resting your chin in your hands and silently wondering if this could all just be a sick dream and you’ll wake up back in bed. Dru, who’s been silent for a moment, traces her jaw with her finger absentmindedly in thought.

“Well you said no one leaves his game without getting fucked up?”

Jackson whines and rolls his eyes, “Yea, it’s fun in the moment but a total headache the day after,” he rests his hand on your shoulder, “stay strong.”

She stops mid trace and looks at you, “Well did this guy you texted play too? That would mean there’s a chance he also doesn’t remember last night.”

Your eyes widen and both you and Jackson look at her in awe, the tension on your shoulders feeling just a little lighter.

“You’re right!”

“You’re a genius!”

She smiles and shrugs, “Well I suppose it doesn’t really help the issue of the text you sent though.”

The smile from your lip fades and you shrug forward again, your hands now picking at the loose frays of the crew neck sleeves. Jackson turns between both of you and offers an apologetic smile before pulling his textbook back closer to him.

Dru follows suit and flattens the page of her book before adjusting the ponytail of her hair to remain out of her face, “Just explain the misunderstanding in person and don’t bother opening your phone. You’re both adults, it shouldn’t be too weird.”

You sigh as the task-oriented lawyer-prepping version of your friends creeps back over them and studying for the upcoming final takes priority from your shitty love life. The group is silent now and you dejectedly flip the page of the book and scan the first few lines, silently counting down the next 246 pages you have to complete.

*******

The air outside is cold and the sun is still annoyingly bright when you all break from the exam review session. Nearing 1pm the campus is livelier, but still quieter on the weekend than it usually is in between classes. Your backpack is heavy and the straps dig into your shoulders with uncomfortable force; 2 textbooks, a laptop, pencil case, notebooks, wallet, and filled metal water bottle create an awkward weight.

“Ok, let’s resume at 3:30? I gotta run back to my apartment and grab the next textbook.”

Dru nods at Jackson and stretches from side to side, “Yea, I think I might take a nap.”

You look between the two of them and before you can mumble a phrase a pair of boots approaching cuts you off promptly, “Geez there you are. I’ve been calling you all morning.”

Spinning around you immediately look eyes with Keigo and notice the fact he’s completely not beat up before raising an eyebrow at his hero uniform. He saunters up as if he was just as close with your friends as you were and nonchalantly pulls out his phone to review his unanswered calls, not bothering to look up.

“13 missed calls, seriously, I was beginning to wonder if I needed to ditch parole to make sure you were still alive.”

A scoff leaves your lips and you turn to your friends with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, guys, I’ll meet up with you later.”

You wave off to them and examine Keigo closer, still hiding behind his phone, but you can see the facade behind the screen and glasses. Dark circles dust a purple under his eyes, his lips are chapped and cracked from the wind, and there’s a twitch in his left eyebrow from a residual headache. He’s still just as hungover as he was this morning.

“Didn’t you leave for parole right after I kicked you out? How are you already on break?”

The two of you start an easy walk down the campus brick path and towards the main road leading to some cafes and restaurants. Leaves crunch under his boots and you play with the tension straps of your backpack, attempting to find a better distribution of weight.

“It’s lunchtime, and besides, you can do a whole lot when you’re ranked as highly as me.”

You shove him to the side and groan, not in the mood for his ego or voice this early, well maybe not early early. There’s a comfortable silence in the walk, one you’ve done a million times before on the days where your break between classes aligns with his lunch recess.

“So..” Keigo rubs his temple in light circles, squinting as the sun’s glare beams into his glasses at an off angle, “remember anything yet?”

“Nope.”

There’s an exasperated sigh that leaves his lips and you both turn the corner out of the campus gates and start down the main road. A few cars pass, but the traffic is light as most people are probably already inside enjoying their lunch on a day off.

“I remember the message perfectly though, so it’s not like my quirk has just vanished.”

Keigo hums and continues with a dejected face towards your usual lunch spot, only stopping to open the door for you once you arrive.

Sliding into the booth seat across from him, you don’t even bother to open the menu; already knowing what you’ll be ordering. He sits uncomfortably across from you, more so than he usually would with a hangover.

“Ok spill, why are you acting so weird? I’m the one who has to deal with this stupid text message.”

Keigo rolls his eyes and pours water from the decanter on the table into each of your glasses,

“Apparently I called Tokoyami last night.”

You sip your water and raise an eyebrow, “The student you’re interning? What’s wrong with that?”

Keigo rubs his temples annoyedly, “I supposedly told him to go deal with some paperwork involving an arrest I made… but I think I sent him your files to retrieve by mistake.”

Your eyebrow twitches and the water in your hand is now forgotten as you glare at the man in front of you. Working in support for heroes, especially in prosecution, you know how annoying it is to chase heroes down and do the legal paperwork for their actions; making a high school student do the same is cruel.

“Ok I’ll yell at you later about making him do your busy work. But why did you even think about mentioning my cases to him?”

Keigo huffs dramatically at the raise of your voice and places his chin on the table of the restaurant, “Not so loud ok?” he looks off to the side, “It’s because you kept yapping about your cases and they got stuck in my head. When I reviewed my call log I noticed he had called me at some point last night and even sent a confirmation text that he had secured the files.”

Before you can strangle him from over the table and wish nothing but misery on him for years to come, a waitress approaches the table. She’s a bit flustered for a moment seeing Keigo, but he pays no mind to her and recites both of your usual orders to her without even looking up. You settle for a kick in the shin and sink your face into your hands. “Do you know what hero’s files you sent for him to grab?”

Keigo scratches the light scruff of his chin and thinks hard, his eyebrows forming a slight ‘V’ in focus.

“Nah. No idea.”

Any remaining oxygen in your lungs is pushed out with a huff and you rub your temples in annoyance.

“Great. I guess I’ll have to head by UA and pick them up from him.”

Keigo slides his phone on the table to the side touching the wall, making room for the plates of food being delivered by the waitress. He shoots her a wink when she blushes and walks off; you roll your eyes and take a bite, happy to finally eat.

You sit in a loud silence, eating becoming the priority and focusing on recovering from the hangover as fast as possible. Though thinking over the plan of stopping by UA makes your blood cold at the realization.

“Wait- doesn’t Aizawa teach Tokoyami? How the fuck am I supposed to grab the files without bumping into him?”

Keigo looks up at you, his mouth open for another bite despite food nearly falling out unchewed, “Uhhh,” there's a half smile painted on his lips.

You take another bite and kick him from under the table.

“You asshole. Can you at least come with me to get them?”

“Hmm no can do. I got parole followed by a few meetings. I’m totally booked.”

“Why are you smiling then?”

Keigo chuckles and drowns the food in his mouth with water before leaning back in his seat and smirking at you, “Well…I wanna see how this plays out.”

You raise an eyebrow at him and take a smaller bite, grunting a small ‘hmm?’ and waiting for him to continue.

“Oh come on. This is the chance to actually have some sort of conversation with him.”

“Is that what we are calling this now? I didn’t even respond to his texts, how am I supposed to show my face on the school campus?”

Keigo snaps his fingers and points to your backpack, “Ok then it’s time! We have to answer.”

“One: we? Two: No way.”

He rolls his eyes and you watch him incredulously while continuing, “You’ve done enough damage already.”

Sturdy arms cross at his chest, “Come on, you can’t avoid it forever. Besides, we’re both basically back to sobriety at this point.”

Well he isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t take away any of the anxiety that’s been built on your shoulders. You wait an extra moment and slowly unzip the small pocket on your backpack and dig your hand to the bottom, feeling for the cool screen of the phone.

Keigo slides both of your plates to the slide, making room when you place the phone face up in the center of the table. A small look of acknowledgement is shared between you both; taping the screen and unlocking it, you take a breath and open the ‘message’ application.

There’s a dot next to the contact ‘Aizawa Shouta’ and a preview of the message can barely be seen. It hurts to watch and your face contorts into a wince without even opening it. Keigo’s silent but gives a small nod before tapping his finger on the notification and opening the message. Well messages.

From: Aizawa Shouta

Are you alright? Hopefully not too sick...

Regardless, I’m glad you got home safely.

From Aizawa Shouta

I’d like to meet up and talk if that's ok.

He double texted. He DOUBLE TEXTED. It’s almost sad how exciting it feels to receive a message from him twice, like he actually cared. God you really needed to get out more.

“Ok that’s good! Send something casual back, head to UA, grab the files, and fuck!”

You roll your eyes at Keigo but can’t help the slight increase in your heart rate. It was exciting that he wanted to see you but there was no guarantee it wasn’t to reprimand you for something that might have happened last night.

“What if-”

“No. No what if. If he was pissed or annoyed, he wouldn’t make an effort to reach out,” Keigo leans back into the booth again, “Trust me.”

You’ve given Keigo too much trust considering the success rate of his actions, but you don’t care enough to remind him at this moment. Instead, you spin the phone to face you and quickly draft a message in reply; after your companion gives a nod of approval you hit send.

To: Aizawa Shouta

Sounds good!

I’ll be in the area today if you’re free

Though the reply is sent, you can’t help the nerves that begin to eat at you. Keigo slides the plates back over in front of you both and continues his meal, “It’ll be fine ok?” You take a breath and pick up from where you left off on your lunch.

********

The security to UA is smooth and easy to pass through, the guards recognizing you by now and handing you a ‘visitor’ lanyard to hang around your neck. The main classroom building is dead ahead, though Keigo knows Tokoyami’s schedule enough to remember that weekend training for students doesn’t resume until 3pm.

Massive hero training grounds and buildings border the brick walkway you trend down in the direction of the ‘Hero’s Alliance’ student dorms. It’s a bittersweet feeling, seeing the next generation of heroes taking water breaks while dressed in their new outfits. Part of you always wondered what it would’ve been like to follow alongside your friends, fighting villains on the frontline with them instead of sitting in an office doing paperwork and wondering if they were going to survive the next fight.

The melancholy passes and you resume your focus on the path ahead, looking for signs indicating the building for ‘class 1-A’. A cool breeze blows through the thin fabric of your university sweatshirt, and you instinctively hug your arms into your body. Leaves scatter the walkway a colorful orange and red, though you can make out a small blip of golden-yellow from the head of Toshinori just up ahead.

Perfect! He was sober all night, I’ll just ask him to tell me what happened.

“Toshinori!”

You break into a light job to catch up and cringe at the smack of your backpack into your tailbone with every step.

He turns around instantly and smiles, “Oh Y/N! Nice to see you here.”

You meet him and match his walking pace, acting as inconspicuous as possible.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah, I’m taking Midoriya out for his ultimate-move training. He’s progressing faster than I expected!” He laughs awkwardly at his excited outburst and scratches the back of his head, “And what about you?”

“Oh, just grabbing some files from Tokoyami, Keigo had mixed up some of the paperwork he requested him to collect.”

Toshinori hums and continues walking alongside you, the dorm buildings now coming into view.

“So… I actually had another question to ask.” He hums and gives you a patient look.

“I’m having some trouble remembering everything that happened last night... Of course, I’d like to apologize to you if I did anything strange. I’m also here to see Aizawa to do the same.”

Toshinori laughs and waves his hand, “Oh there’s no need to apologize to me Y/N! I left shortly after the game ended, and I don’t recall you acting strange with me in any way.”

A light sigh escapes your lungs in relief, but Toshinori shifts awkwardly to the side now avoiding eye contact.

“That’s nice to hear. But… do you know if anything happened between Aizawa and I? I feel there’s a bit of awkward tension.”

Coughs escape his mouth and his face is lit up in a bright red, he instinctively turns his head to the side in a poor attempt to hide his fluster.

“Well.. that would be inappropriate to recount.. certain events on school grounds”

“All might!”

You wish you could be smite down by lightning in that moment and be reduced to a useless pile of ash and textbook embers. Midoriya makes no connection in your face of horror when he runs down the steps of the dormitory to greet his mentor. With legs made of lead you watch Toshinori give a warm smile to the young man and awkwardly swallow when his attention glances past you again.

Inappropriate? INAPPROPRIATE??

Midoriya eventually turns to you and either ignores or doesn’t recognize the self-loathing currently taking place within your mind and offers an excited ‘hello’. You force out a greeting through grit teeth and wave off to the two as they head towards a training facility.

You stand outside nearly a whole minute before trudging up the short staircase and opening the large doors to the lobby. A variety of students sit around the common room in their hero uniforms, relaxing until their scheduled training and enjoying each other's company.

“Need help?”

You stand awkwardly in the entrance and notice who you vaguely remember as being Todoroki now standing nearby.

“Oh yea. Keigo- or uh Hawks, sent me here to grab some files from Tokoyami.”

Todoroki nods and you continue casually, “Is your teacher here…?”

The young man examines the room and gives a light shrug, now motioning you to follow him to the elevator, “If he’s not down here he might be sleeping in all honesty. Training doesn’t resume for a little while.”

You nod to a silent beat and peer around once more before stepping into the elevator with

Todoroki. “You work in law, right? I think you’ve done a case for my father before.”

“Oh yes, I have a few times with my externship mentor.”

He nods silently and the conversation is effectively ended. You make a mental note and rock on your feet lightly; the silence isn’t forced and it’s clear that his personality is simply more reserved.

With a ‘ding’ of the elevator opening, Todoroki leads you to Tokoyami’s door and returns promptly towards the lift in an effort to resume his break in the common room. You peer down both ends of the empty hallway and knock twice against the wood before the door is opened as thinly as possible.

“Yes?”

“I’m here-,” you pause and notice the dark aura of the room and soft purple lights emitting barely a glow, “-here to pick up the files Kei- Hawks had mentioned.”

Tokoyami glances at you from the crack in the door, “Alright, I’ll hand them to you out there.”

The door closes in your face and you blink a few times in confusion before eventually backing up into the center of the hallway. The carpet is plush under your feet as you distribute your weight from hip to hip waiting for the door to open once again.

“Here,” Tokoyami slides out from his room, an arrangement of manilla folders in tow, and hands them over to you. His hero uniform is on but disheveled, clear you had caught him off-guard.

“Sorry about the mix-up.”

“It’s no worry, I’m sure you know more than me just how easy it is to get lost amongst those papers.”

A light exhale leaves your lips and you offer the young man a smile, “I’ll let Hawks know to lighten up on this kinda work ok? A kid like you in this school shouldn’t be doing my job,”

Tokoyami blinks and tilts his head to the side despite being halfway back into this room again, “It's important though. Just because I’m not training for the same profession as you doesn’t make the work you do any less important than the one a pro-hero does.”

He shuts the door and leaves you in the hallway with four case files and a small mixture of existential relief and anxiety. Cutting your losses, you head back for the elevator and take it down to the lobby, silently thanking your luck for the lack of Aizawa’s presence, especially after Toshinori effectively put you into cardiac arrest with his warning.

Groups of students are still idly chatting away while others finish up their snacks and begin to stretch lightly in preparation for training. Todoroki looks up from his conversation with an extremely passionate boy with glasses and gives a slight wave goodbye.

“Y/N.”

Ok nevermind, there’s no such thing as luck and I’m cursed to live an unfortunate life.

There’s no need to turn around, the voice obviously belonging to Aizawa as his footsteps approach from behind you. Picking at the strings of your sweatshirt you spin and drink in his hero uniform, silently admiring the tousle of his long hair.

“Oh hey.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you on campus at this hour, but..” he shifts for half a second, “if it’s alright I’d like to speak with you before you go?”

“Sure,” you reply as casually as possible and appreciate the background noise of the students drowning out your conversation.

Aizawa nods and motions you to follow him outside and down the entrance stairs to the small courtyard. Nervous sweat builds on your palms and you awkwardly wipe it on your sweatpants, now hyper aware of your hangover outfit and disheveled appearance.

There’s an awkward silence between the both of you.

I just need to apologize. Whatever I did must’ve been fucked if Toshinori reacted like that. I just need to grow up and face the fact any chance I had is gone and move on with my disappointing life.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Wait-”

“What-?”

Aizawa and you stumble on your words after speaking simultaneously, his eyes widening and cheeks becoming slightly pink. Your own face heats up and every time one of you tries to speak, the other is attempting to as well.

He raises a hand, “Ok, you start.”

“Well.. I came to apologize,” you awkwardly look off and fiddle with the backpack straps on your shoulders, manilla folder tucked under an arm, “For the stupid message I sent this morning, well Keigo kinda sent.”

Aizawa sucks in a short breath at his name but remains silent as you continue, his shoulders stiff.

“And for whatever I did last night... In all honesty I don’t actually remember any of it..”

A long silence follows and you peel your eyes off the sight of students walking around the school grounds and face him. There’s an expression you can’t quite read but his shoulders are more relaxed, and the tenseness of his muscles seem released; nearly relief.

Aizawa notices your finished statement and coughs slightly, looking around the courtyard with his ears dusted in pink, “Oh I see.”

“Well... what were you sorry for…?”

He shifts lightly, as if the script he had mentally prepared himself for has gone out the window and he’s left on stage improving his lines, “Just the same thing of course. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable last night… or when I messaged you this morning.”

The behavior is awkward and unfamiliar, it’s obvious there’s more than what he’s letting on. You shake your head ‘no’ and before you can push further, he notices the folders in your possession and changes the topic.

“I heard from your externship mentor you might be dropping by for a few cases, if there’s one in there with Vlad King I’ll be involved in the case as well.”

You blink and look down at the folders, “Yea I believe that one is going through our office-”

“-Great,” he moves towards the dorm entrance abruptly, eager to get out the conversation, “I’ll be seeing you on Tuesday then for the debrief.”

Your eyes go wide at the sudden change and there’s a small tug in your heart in disappointment from lack of closure. Watching him ascend the stairs, he pauses halfway up and turns to you, “I have your blazer still, let’s meet Monday so I can return it? There’s a good coffee shop nearby.” “Sure..”

He disappears into the building without any further explanation and you’re left standing in the courtyard unsure of what just happened. Robotically, you slide out your cell phone and answer a few ‘where are you’ texts from your friends who have resumed their study session at the library. Walking towards the exit gates, you open Keigo’s contact and begin drafting a novel of what just happened, unsure of exactly how to interpret the entire conversation.

“Ah, leaving already?”

You whip your head up and look at Toshinori waving at you and casually approaching; Midoriya stands in an open field practicing his jump kicks, unaware of the conversation.

“Yea,” you lift a few folders, ���Got what I needed.”

“And did you resolve the uh... issue?”

Well no, not really. I still don’t know what even happened.

“Kinda, we cleared the air and acknowledged we’d be working on closing a case together. I’d say that’s a resolution for now.”

Toshinori nods and laughs, “I'm glad! I didn’t think it would be too awkward considering you both couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

Huh?... HUH?

“Huh..?” your voice is weak and Toshinori immediately raises his hands apologetically. “Oh I’m so sorry!! I didn’t mean to be rude. To be honest everyone was wondering when you both would work it out.”

There’s no language in which a single coherent thought could form into a sentence; your mind is completely blank.

“I don’t.. I don’t understand.”

Toshinori tilts his head to the side, now just as confused as you, “Isn’t that what you talked about? I left right before 12am, but you both were playing billiards and making dinner plans. Normally speaking about a teacher and prosecution support dating would be inappropriate to bring up in front of students,” he turns to Midoriya, “but I’m glad you worked it out!”

. . . .

What? I don’t-

He looks at you and smiles genuinely as if this was something that had been eating at him while you stand motionless and without flinching in the cold wind. Your throat is dry and you can feel your lips getting chapped from the air.

“All might! Did you see that one?”

Midoriya yells from the center of the field and Toshinori waves back at him before turning to you one last time, “If you want more specifics on the evening to reminisce on, you should ask Midnight. She was taking tons of videos at the time.”

********

AIZAWA POV

She doesn’t know? She doesn’t remember…?

Aizawa holds back any emotion on his face while he pours a mug of coffee in the dorm kitchen, relief and gratitude rushing through his veins. It seemed luck truly was on his side this past week, not only did he get the phone number the girl he was pining over thought was cute and made coffee plans with her, but she didn’t remember a thing about the night before when he made a complete ass of himself.

Guilt also gnawed at his gut as he sipped the warm liquid and watched his students chat amongst themselves in preparation for training to resume. He should come clean and tell you exactly what happened, but the idea of getting a fresh chance was almost too refreshing.

I’ll come clean over coffee. Yea. I’ll do it then.

He lets himself relish in the idea of being safe just a little while longer and pushes down the nervousness of rejection that still resided deep within him. Sure, when you’re both drunk in a bar you’ll admit to a lot of things, but that doesn't mean you actually felt them sober.

The hand you kept firm on his bicep while he tried to teach you how to play billiards, as if you even cared about the game, burned a mark into his skin. The way you leaned over the green of the table and hit any ball you felt like, regardless of stripe or solid, took all the willpower within him not to admire the swell of your ass in front of everyone. And every time you would stare from eye to eye to lips was nearly enough for him to lose all resolve and admit his stupid pathetic feelings right there in the bar. Instead, he resorted to casually asking to see your phone and adding in his contact ‘just in case’, the liquid courage making him smoother than any other time he’s talked to you.

This is ridiculous.

Aizawa sips his coffee and stares down into the liquid with a slight forlorn look, hating the way his warped reflection stared back at him. As if you really wanted him? The thought hurt enough to laugh so he settled to take another sip from his drink instead. You, an ace law student bound to be the country's next best prosecutor, who’s smart and charming and beautiful, and who was way out of the league of a sleep-deprived unshaven high school teacher.

He’d spent countless cases avoiding you, thinking if he kept enough distance the feeling would go away and not grow into the suffocating fixation it inevitably became. Maybe he would use the coffee date to just end the whole game altogether and get some closure. End it before he looked like an idiot and tried to make room for you in his already hectic schedule. He would go back to the plaguing dreams that left him feeling even shittier for the thoughts of you that would swarm his brain and always end with his hand shoved down his boxers.

It wouldn’t be fair.

It’s the same line he always told himself. It wouldn’t be fair to make you wait long nights for him, unsure of his condition after a fight. It wouldn’t be fair to try and make room for you when his students had become a priority. It wouldn't be fair to chain you down to a nobody hero like him when your best friend was admired by so many more.

Aizawa sipped his coffee one more time and placed the mug on the counter, enjoying the few hours he had of your blissful ignorance before he eventually came clean. He silently thanked his luck one last time before clapping his hands and approaching the couch full of students, eager to resume training and shake the thoughts of you out of his head

ty so much for the support for this series! i still have some finals so my upload schedule is annoying af, but i promise i'll keep writing when i have time!

let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list for this~~ also if u have any requests in general

Tags: @idkidk32 @h0n3y-l3m0n05

[writerunnamed]

note: I realize everyone is waiting patiently for stepdad Joel (and I'm very grateful for that) but I was absolutely consumed with this, the wrongness of it. Meeting Frankie as a child and loving him so intensely, so quickly and then throwing hormones and sex and the inappropriateness of what you mean to each other into the mix. This is a hefty chapter, and I am warning you know, it is a slow-burn. all of the unhinged step-brother sex will come eventually, have to dedicate this one to my girl @just-here-for-the-moment who is generous enough with her time to read through and lose her mind with me on this. female reader-Frankie calls you Bug. 18+ legal, you're younger in this, but so is he (warnings: s l o w - b u r n, heavy guilt, inappropriate thoughts from both of you—Frankie alleviates himself, alternating pov) 10.2k word count masterlist

--

Everything is the same, but not. For now, your room feels the same, the curtains float along an errant breeze, the sun shines in through the special moon and star cutouts of prism paper your mom stuck to the glass years ago, painting spots on the walls in pretty rainbows like always, but it feels weird. Your fingers trace the flowers on your bedspread under your legs over and over, until the tip of your finger feels strangely numb, but you cannot stop. 

“Sweetheart, come down–they’ll be here any minute!” your mom calls from downstairs. Will her voice sound the same once they arrive? The room across the hall from you is all made up, where once there was your old toys and her stationary bike, now there is a made up bed with blue covers, new ones she’d bought and washed for a boy, a brother. 

“Sweetheart?” she calls again, your tummy roils but you jump down off the bed and walk out of your room, eyes downcast on the worn carpet until you reach the top of the stairs. “There you are baby, come on down.” Her smile doesn’t inspire one of your own, if anything, it only paints your insides with a bone-deep sadness. 

The stairs feel too tall, your palms–slippery with nervous sweat–swipe angrily down the front of your shorts. The denim scrapes them in an almost soothing way, something to focus on instead of the clock ticking down the moments until this little house is no longer just for the two of you, and so you keep swiping, keep pressing them into your thighs. 

“Stop that honey, no need to be nervous.” She smiles, holding out her arms even though you’re already up to her belly but you jump at the chance to be in her arms again. She holds you on her hip and the comfort of it is enough to wet your lashes, enough to bruise the back of your throat with tears you don’t want to shed.

“I know, it’s a big change but this is going to be fun! You already know Eddie, you like Eddie, his little boy is really sweet.” Her neck is soothingly familiar under your face, the smell of her perfume synonymous with home. 

But this is our house, just us, you always said it was just us forever

They stick in your throat, the words, the feelings, all of it almost too big for your little body. The sound of a car pulling into your driveway creeps into the house, creeps between you and your mom despite how tightly you hold onto her. 

“Okay Sweetheart, time to be brave.” Her hand rubs across your back just like it has a million times before she sets you down, crouching down to your level to smile at you. Her bright pink nail polish catches your eye before she wipes the tears away from your face. 

“Silly,” she smiles, not unkindly, “I know that soon enough you’ll be so excited to have a friend, a brother in the house.” She presses her mouth to your forehead, your body surges forward and you hug her as tightly as you can, clenching your eyes together and begging, praying, wishing to live in the moment forever.

Just us, just us, just us…

The doorbell rings and even though you don’t let go, she stalls for a moment and you love her for it.

“Time to be brave.” She pulls away gently, and you nod. 

When she opens the door, Eddie's big frame fills the doorway, huge, imposing but impossibly friendly. 

“Hey, honey.” He gathers your mom up into a big hug, eclipsing everything behind him for a moment. “Hey, Peanut.” He smiles down at you, kind eyes shining and your own smile creeps onto your face without your permission. A boy appears from behind him, clutching at a backpack and the smile evaporates. 

“This is my son, Francisco.” He guides the boy in, big hand on his shoulder. His skin is golden, his hair the same dark brown as his father, only a little longer and with a soft wave. His eyes are brown too, curious and big and a little sad. The words are stuck in your throat. He’s taller than you imagined, a whole head taller and you don’t know what to say, 

“Hi.” He smiles a little smile, waving at you. The urge to cling to your mother’s leg is strong enough to burn the back of your throat again, enough to want to push them out of your house and run to your room and cry but you take a deep breath, you’re brave. 

“Hi.” You wave back. 

“Hi Frankie.” Your mom speaks to him softly, the same voice she uses with you and it hurts something inside you. 

“Hello.” He smiles at her, moving forward to give her a hug at his fathers urging. The adults smile, pleased with the first meeting. 

“Your room is all set up, wanna go and check it out?” She smiles at him, ruffling his hair and he nods. “Sweetheart, why don’t you go show Frankie his new room?” She looks at you then, and somehow it feels like a stab, that it would fall to you to give him the space across from yours. 

Silently you lead him up the stairs, and silently he follows, the two of you ignoring the whispers below. 

When you reach the blue room, you point, and he walks in, sitting heavily on the bed. Silence stretches between you, it fills the room like smoke, like the thick shafts of light coming in through the window. 

“Your mom is nice.” His eyes are so sad, and for a moment a very grown up thought takes root: that just as you don’t want to share your space, he has had to leave his.

“Your dad is nice, too.” Your palms scrape at the denim of your shorts again, soothing, repetitive.

“How old are you?” His leg tucks under his thigh, turning to face you, shoulders slumped, limbs folding.

“Seven.” 

Scrape, scrape, scrape

“I’ll be twelve this year.” He sighs, soft eyes scanning the space again before hauling his backpack in front of him to pull out his things. The silence crawls, drags, and your space pulls you back. You ease out of the room, backing away slowly while he pulls books and a colourful gameboy out onto the bed.

“Bye.” He waves, and you wave too, before practically sprinting back to your room and closing the door.

-

It takes a long time to get used to them; masculine, noisy, strange. Eddie laughs loudly, sneezes even louder and watches any televised sporting event he finds at full blast. He makes jokes and cooks breakfast for everyone. Your mom laughs, you retreat within. Their things start to fill the space, changing the essence of it, the girl-ness of your home. Big boots and Eddies work things frame the front door, a recliner infiltrates the livingroom–boy things pop up in the laundry room. 

Frankie is a quiet child, precocious, polite, a joy to have around your mother says. He eats all his vegetables, he brings his plate to the sink, he says please and thank you and he reads a lot. You watch him sometimes, when his nose is buried in a book on the couch, or at the kitchen table, or in his bed across from your room. He always catches you looking, always smiles. He’s kinder than you thought he’d be. 

When summer ends, your mom enrolls him at your school. 

It feels like another betrayal, another aspect of your life you have to share. Your home, your mom, now school. You keep your feelings to yourself though, keep the anger and the resentment buried deep inside because he’s nice, he’s friendly, and some logical, mature part of you knows he must feel awful. It wasn’t you who had been forced to give up their room and their home and move in with people you didn’t know, it wasn’t you who had to start a whole new life in a new school without your friends. 

He walks with you on your route, the short, two minute trek across and down the street and when you go to cross, he grabs your hand. Sunlight fills your whole body to feel him clutch at you, little sweaty palm clasped in his bigger sweaty palm as he guides you carefully across a street you’ve crossed hundreds of times. He smiles at you when you reach the sidewalk safely, letting go of your hand while - your other one scrapes down the front of your dress, over and over, a physical mantra to focus on while the too-big feelings fill your heart to the brim. 

The ghost of his grip lingers throughout the day. Absentmindedly you flex your hand, feeling the way he held it, grabbing it so effortlessly, and all day you wonder if he’ll do it again on the way home. 

You look for him at recess, finding him with his book but for once, not reading it. He’s smiling, a real smile at another boy his age and you’re happy he’s not alone. Your friends chatter and laugh and eventually you join in, scraping your palms down your front at the thought of going home. 

When the day finally ends, you find him waiting near the bike rack. Your legs carry you to him in a breathless run, back-pack bouncing, feet smacking on the pavement until you almost crash into him. He smiles, and you walk home. It’s silent, but comfortable. Your shoulder bumps into his arm, hand itching to grab his and when the time comes, you do, slipping your palm into his with a grin you cannot hide. You don’t let go when you hit the sidewalk, and neither does he.

-

Fall really and truly settles over everything, and what at first felt like an invasion, like some sort of hostile takeover of your space now feels normal, feels perfect. Eddie’s huge frame flipping pancakes at the stove or hunched over the truck in the driveway fixing something under the hood.

How was school today, Peanut? Got any homework? 

Frankie’s head down in another book at the kitchen table, or curled up on the couch playing video games, or running out the door to ride his bike with new friends. Frankie taking out the garbage or helping you with your math homework, patient and kind and everything a big brother should be.

A nightmare, a bad one, hits well into November, pulling you out of sleep with a scream. The tears come hot and heavy as the world adjusts, the room comes into focus, the moon shines bright in the window but the sobs don’t stop. Your door creaks open but it’s not your mom, it’s Frankie with a knuckle rubbing at his eye.

“What’s wrong?” His hair has grown a little longer since he moved in, a soft brown halo around his head. The sobs rack your body, fat tears falling despite knowing now it was just a nightmare. You choke out the words between sobs, bad—hiccup—dream. 

Wordlessly he slips into the bed with you, pulling his shirt up to wipe your tears away like he’d done it a million times. Tender. 

“Dreams can’t hurt you.” He lays his head onto your pillow and you follow him. “Want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?” You nod, inching closer to him so your legs tangle up with his.

He nods back, and after a moment of hesitation you cuddle up tight, and fall asleep.

You were inseparable after that, and it felt completely natural.

-

On his twelfth birthday was the first time you saw him truly happy. You ran into his bedroom first thing and jumped into his bed, hugging him tightly while singing happy birthday. 

“Thanks Bug—“ he smiled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with a huge grin.

“Are you excited about your party?” His room felt like his now, Eddie had built him a huge shelving unit for all his books, the walls were covered in posters, it made you happy. Even though he never denied you entry into his space like some of your friends' older siblings do, it always felt good to be the exception, to be special enough to him to be allowed. To be welcomed. 

“Yes, I’m excited for cake and pizza and for my friends to come over—“

“And presents!” You jumped on his bed as he laughed.

“Yes Bug, I’m excited to see if I get presents.” He pulled you down, giving you a big hug before ushering you to the door, “Go get ready for breakfast.” 

The kitchen table is set when you bound down the stairs, three presents piled up beside a stack of confetti pancakes. Your mom is icing a huge cake and Eddie is pulling toast out of the toaster with massive hands. 

You bounce on the balls of your feet in anticipation, your heart beats like a hummingbird in your chest at the prospect of giving Frankie his gift. Your mom laughs at the way you bounce around, little fingers poking and prodding at the crinkles in the wrapping paper until he finally comes downstairs. There’s a chorus of happy birthdays from everyone, a giant lurch forward to press hugs on him but you beat them all, clutching at him strong enough that he laughs. 

“Thank you!” He beams, hugging his dad’s middle while your mom wipes her hands, and then hugging her as well. You follow behind, bouncing more still. 

“Open mine first!” 

“You got me a present?” his tone is shocked, touched, and it only pulls a bigger smile from you. 

“She picked it herself.” Your mom presses a kiss to the crown of his head. 

“Such a good little sister huh? He’s gonna love it, Peanut.” Eddie sets your own stack of pancakes down in the place beside Frankie's, winking at you before sitting at his own place at your table. 

Frankie says nothing, only reaches for the present you point at and opens it.

“I saw you reading them–but you were missing the last one!” You bounce in your chair, little legs moving up until you’re almost kneeling. He turns the book over in his hands for a moment, little frown in place until he lifts his head and the smile that greets you there is one that warms you from the inside. Something pure, something secret, something all for you.

“Thank you Bug, I love it!” He drops it and all but tackles you, scooping you up in his strong arms. Tears form, bead and collect in your lashes and you don’t exactly know why but the hug is so tight, so comforting that you hold on as long as he lets you. 

-

On his last day of elementary school, you cry. You don’t want to, but you do. Heavy, unavoidable sobs rack your body practically as soon as you open your eyes. They follow you as you brush your teeth, as you get dressed for the day, and when he sees you he lets out a little huff of amusement before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“Don’t cry, Bug, it’s only highschool.” He guides you towards the stairs, shushing you sweetly.

“But, but we won’t be able to walk to school together anymore, you won’t be there.” 

“I’ll still be there after to walk home with you, I promise.” It helps, but only a little. Eddie is at the door putting on his boots when you make it down, wiping at your eyes. He frowns at you but sees Frankie’s arm on your shoulder and a sympathetic smile fills his kind face. 

“Oh Peanut, don’t cry, it’ll be okay.” He pulls some change from his pocket, “Here, why don’t you guys buy yourselves some candy or something. Don’t tell mom.” He winks, and you take it with a watery smile.

-

The first year he’s in highschool is hard. He keeps his promise though, and you walk home together every day, but his homework keeps him busy and you spend less and less time as he makes more and more friends. Some weekends are normal, and you watch movies together, go out for dinner with your parents, ride your bikes to the store and eat popsicles and drink sugary soda until the streetlights come on and you race home. High on sugar and his smiles and his dreams of being a pilot. Dreams you listen to eagerly.

Most of the time though, it feels like you don’t see him for days. Head buried in his homework in his room, door closed, or out with friends his age, leaving you to glance at the window for the sight of him coming home. Your mom smiles at your frown, knows what you’re thinking. 

“He’s getting older, Sweetheart, he wants to be with kids his own age, school and friends and girls.” The frown deepens and she laughs, not unkindly. “He’s your big brother, and he loves you, but eventually you won’t be the only girl in his life.” She pulls you into a hug but the thought lingers like a thorn.

-

Things fall apart a little more. Time declares war on you, on your house, on your hormones. At eleven your period comes, and with that, an anger you cannot explain fills your body like a sudden thunderstorm. You avoid everyone and despite the patience and grace your parents give you, Frankie seems to have none. He sighs, he avoids, he closes his door and hangs out with friends. He’s sixteen and working, he’s so tall, so lanky, awkward and quiet and when the summer before you start highschool comes, he goes to spend time with his mom. 

The house is so quiet without him there. The blue room across from you stares like an open mouth, teeth pulled and useless without his form, without his body spread out on his bed reading, without him hunched over his little desk doing homework. 

Eventually it doesn’t matter, highschool is busy, old friends and new friends take up your time. Frankie starts working, and it feels like he’s a ghost. The flash of his headlights lighting up the foyer when he pulls into the driveway as you grab a snack from the fridge, his tall frame toeing off his shoes before taking the steps up to his room two at a time with barely a wave in your direction. His voice, deeper than you remember it being rumbling into his phone and the jingle of keys outside your bedroom while you listen to your best friend complain about her boyfriend.

There’s a glimpse of the way it used to be sometimes though, a soft knock on your door followed by the smile you remember. Once he heard you crying and came in, frown in place, voice deep and full of worry. 

“What’s wrong, Bug?” Three strides bring him to your bed, bottom of his shirt brought up to wipe your eyes. You choke out the words, the boy at school who you’d been pining after, how he’d asked out another girl, a prettier one. 

“He’s an idiot if he can’t see that you’re the prettiest girl in the whole world, don’t cry—he’s not worth it.” He gathers you up and the years disappear, you're still his Bug and he’s still your favourite person. At least until he pulls away and heads back into his room, out of your orbit and back into his own world.

On and on, time passes, and you drift alongside one another. There, across the hall from each other but oceans away. Until he really does leave, military training for his pilot's license as soon as he turns twenty-one. 

The distance in the years he was off training stretches, bounces back like an elastic from infinite in his absence, to non-existent when you hear his voice on his rare phone calls home. That missing shape of him in your life comes back into place when you hear his laugh, when he gushes about all his time in the air, when he asks for updates on your life. The beats in your day to day aren’t as exciting as his, but his responses don’t give you any indication that he isn’t completely invested. 

-

Eddie is pulling toast with asbestos fingertips when you come down the stairs, a smile on his face at the yawn all but dislocating your jaw. 

“Morning, Peanut. Hungry?”

“Yes please.” You all but fall into the chair, elbow propped up to hold the weight of your head up. Your eyes sink low, the result of letting your friend keep you on the phone so late and for a moment that weightless, nameless void just before falling asleep creeps along your form until the door slams and you jolt hard enough to almost fall out of your chair. Eddie wipes his hands on the towel hanging over the oven door while your heart thumps. Belatedly, slowly, he comes into focus.

“Hey Bug, miss me?” He drops his army green duffel but you’re out of your chair and in his arms before it hits the ground. The smell of him hits you first, the clean-sweat, smokiness that clung to his hair. There’s more though, there’s a metallic lick in the crook of his neck, motor oil and ozone and you take it in in greedy breaths. 

“I missed you, too.” He whispers it, his arms so much stronger than you remember, his hands flat against your back spanning far larger than you think they should. A breathless laugh, a tightening of your grip, the brick wall of his chest pressing tightly into yours and for a moment you become painfully, embarrassingly aware of the bra you aren’t wearing. 

“Give me a chance, Peanut.” Eddie laughs, unaware of the strangeness in your being and you pull back, coming back down from the tips of your toes, coming back down to Earth. Frankie’s eyes find yours before Eddie pulls him in for a big bear hug and you could swear there’s something in his gaze, something that wasn’t there before.

Awkwardly, you sit at your place, swallowing hard and racking your brain as to why your face is so warm. 

“It’s good to be home, I can’t wait to show you all how I can fly.” He falls into his chair, his skin is golden from time spent outside, his hair short on the sides but longer on top, different from his usual casual wave but it suits him. “Sorry I missed your birthday Bug, I brought you a gift though–” He reaches towards his bag, digging for something while you fiddle with the hem of your sleep shorts. 

“It’s okay–” 

“No it isn’t, eighteen is huge… here.” He pulls out a little box, something jewelry shaped. With a smile you cannot contain, you open it and gasp, staring at it. It’s a bracelet, the chain delicate with a tiny little ladybug charm on it. Your hands tremble a bit, the red enamel of the ladybug glinting where the light hits it. Something swells, grows and blooms and you can’t help but smile. 

“If you don’t like it I can return it, but I thought it was cute–” There’s a nervous edge to his words and you frown at him. 

“I love it!” Again you clamour over, practically jump into his arms clutching at the little box. His nose buries itself in the crook of your neck and you feel the way he breathes you in, again feeling somehow indecent at the fact that you’re bare under your old T-shirt.

“That’s so sweet Francisco, such a thoughtful gift.” Your mom interrupts, or, rather speaks to him but it feels like an interruption and when he pulls away that look is there again, an intensity, a clarity that makes you look away. 

“Here Sweetheart, let me help you put it on.” Your mom presses a kiss to the crown of his head just like she always has before smiling at you. When you look back at him, the expression is gone, and you can almost convince yourself it had never been there at all. 

“Perfect.” She smiles, and you do too at the way it dangles against your skin. 

“Happy Birthday, Bug.” He says it again, lower, almost privately. 

“Thanks Frankie.”

The beat passes, the world shifts back into its familiar, normal shape while breakfast is eaten. He talks about his flying, his training and you all listen just as eagerly as he speaks. Your mom snorts out her fear when he offers to take them up, laughing nervously when she declines as politely as she can. Eddie laughs, holding her hand but agreeing that he at least would. 

“You will though, right, Bug?” Frankie smiles at you, bright and hopeful and completely undeniable. 

“Oh God, maybe? I don’t know, I'm a little scared–” He rolls his eyes, but reaches over to place his hand on your folded knee. It’s warm, and huge and it makes your heart race despite the fact that he’s always been free with his touch. 

“It’s perfectly safe, and I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He squeezes at the meat of your leg, brief, but life-altering.

“Okay, fine. Yeah of course.” You huff out a laugh and he cheers.

“Good God Francisco, please be careful–” Your mom starts, pressing her hands to her face at the thought of you up in the air with him. 

“They’ll be fine Honey, this is what he trained for.” Eddie presses a kiss to her forehead while you excuse yourself, nervous and confused and a million other things swimming inside you. 

“Me too actually, I should shower and unpack.” He rises alongside you, picking up his duffel and following you up the stairs. When he smiles at you, and closes his door, you let go of the breath stuck in your lungs. 

-

There’s something wrong with him. 

Frankie lays in his bed, too small and too cramped but achingly familiar and he stares into nothing, admonishing himself about the thoughts–the feelings he shouldn’t be having.

He scrubs a hand down his face, frowning at the empty air, at the comfortable silence of his home. It’s warm enough that he has his window open, the slightly cool breeze rifling through his curtains. He can almost smell her, the fruity smell of her shampoo, the citrusy smell of her bodywash, her soft perfume. Something in his stomach drops and he, not for the first time since he got back, takes his brain by the scruff of its neck and gives it a strict talking to. 

Everything they are to one another, everything they mean to each other, a list of all of the things they’ve gone through pops up one by one. His favourite person in the whole world, his sister-

Step-sister. Something else in his head reminds him, strongly. 

He thinks about the girl from his childhood, the tears on her face after a nightmare, the smile after he walked her to school or shared his ice cream. They don’t match up with the one who greeted him on his return. That girl is different, she’s taller and smells so good, she’s so soft, so pretty–he growls to himself. 

With more force than is necessary, he pulls his phone out and looks up the contact he doesn’t actually want to look up and calls before he loses his nerve. He second guesses himself for a moment but before he gives up–

“Already?” Her voice annoys him, he sighs. “When did you get home?” He can hear the smile in her voice.

“Few days ago.” His voice is clipped, frustrated with himself. She waits, and with clenched teeth he continues. “You busy?” It's vague, but she knows exactly what he means. She laughs, and it sets his teeth on edge. He doesn’t want to meet up with her, but he needs a release, and although he doesn’t want to admit it, he’s terrified of what he’ll think of if he touches himself.

“I dunno, am I?” 

“Do you want to meet up or not, I don’t have time for this.” He sits up, long legs swinging over the side of his bed to land on the floor, hunched over and tense. 

“Be here in twenty, I’ll be waiting.” She hangs up, and he lets a breath out into the dark. He slips out of his room a few minutes later, closing his door as quietly as he can, pointedly ignoring the door across from his, and creeps quietly out of the house. 

The relief is short lived though, and walking back into the house a few hours later makes him feel somehow worse. It makes him feel dirty. Perverted. 

The door across from his opens just as he’s closing his own but he stops, watching the sleepy way she walks towards the bathroom, too tired to notice that his door is cracked, too out of it to see the way he watches her. 

-

A curious heat, a slow but steady simmering settles deep in your gut. Not all the time, mostly when he’s around, when his voice filters beneath the gap under his door and under yours, or when you find the broad, golden shape of him in the kitchen, the soft light lightening the dark mop of his hair through the kitchen window. Most of all when he smiles at you, when his hand brushes against your shoulder or skims your lower back. 

The first instinct is to shove it down deep. To ignore and deny deny deny, but the curious part of your brain dissects, despite the instinct for self-preservation, that human thing begging you to protect your own sanity. You tear into the feeling, put it under the microscope and try to understand. Why does it feel so much like when you had that crush at school, because it most certainly cannot be a crush. Crushes are for boys your own age, for the boys that don’t live in your house. Crushes are not for brothers.

He finds you putting your clean clothes away, smiles and leans against your open door while you place your neat stack of clean jeans and leggings in your drawer. 

“There’s a fair in town, wanna go?” His eyes track you as you move the next folded stack to another drawer before he steps in to help you. 

“Uh, sure.” The bracelet catches his eye as he hands you your pile of socks. “I’m surprised you’re home.” You grab the little pile of your underwear before he can touch them, part of you knows he wouldn’t while another part still wonders if you want him to.

“Been pretty busy since I got back, haven’t spent much time with you. I miss our hangouts.” He’s too big for the space, too golden, too broad and that curious heat pools low in your gut again, in your hips. You don’t respond, but nod in agreement because you miss it too, miss what it used to be like.

“Okay then, we’ll leave at like seven?” He backs out, and you nod again, breathing deep once he closes his bedroom door. 

-

The hem of your dress whips around your thighs in the cab of his truck, an old, beat up thing Eddie had gifted him on his eighteenth birthday. The worn leather is soft against the backs of your thighs. His visor is down to block out the worst of the dying days sun rays as you crawl down the winding streets, weaving through traffic on your way to the fairgrounds. 

The radio plays quietly, your attention shifting from the worn-smooth plastic grip on the door, the hint of fall creeping onto some of the trees, to the size of his hand on the steering wheel. It shifts again to his forearm, golden from the sun where it shows under the rolled up sleeve of his flannel shirt, the taunt of his throat over the neck of his shirt. 

Taunt? 

Your finger goes numb against the car door, worrying at it over and over to focus on something else. Something not Frankie-shaped.

“Excited?” His hand lands on your leg, squeezing at your thigh in that casual, bewitching way before reaching for your hand and holding it like always.

“A little.” He clenches his fingers around yours and the world fixes itself, it’s Frankie, your Frankie. “Yes, I’m excited.” You surround his hand with your other, holding it tight to your lap, holding onto the feeling.

“Are you?” 

“Yep.” He smiles, eyes focused on the road, “I want a funnel cake so bad.” He says it like he hasn’t eaten in days and you laugh, giddy with the hope that whatever you’ve been feeling has finally passed, just a little bug—ha—going around. Nothing to worry about now, everything is right as rain. 

The gravel of the makeshift parking lot crunches under the tires, louder as he slows down to find a spot, spitting and crackling until he finally puts it in park and kills the engine. Your thighs peel off the seat when you open the door and jump down. 

“Lock the door for me, Bug.” You push the little lock and then follow him towards the entrance, your heart skips when he holds his hand out and behind, open towards you for you to grab. You ignore the tripping beat of it, just an aftershock is all. He tucks your hand tight to his side, making you almost hug his arm as you walk towards the entrance and part of you thinks maybe you’re too old for this, holding hands like a couple instead of—

He smiles, pointing out the Ferris wheel and you forget your train of thought. 

He leads the way towards the ticket booth, a couple in front of you in line, along with a family ahead of them and wait for your turn. 

“What do you think, twenty tickets, or forty?” The sign showed the prices, it came out to about a dollar a ticket. 

“I have some money, we could get forty—“ he stops your hand from reaching into your little cross-body hanging near your hip. 

“I got it, Bug. Let’s do forty.” You frown, trying again to reach for your wallet but he gives you a stern look, “I said I got it, it’s my treat.” Something in his voice, in the authority of it burns in your belly, turns on a light somewhere behind your belly button.

“Fine. You jerk.” You mumble and he laughs.

“That’s a weird way to say ‘thank you’ hm?” You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder. 

When you get to the booth he lets go of your hand and pulls out his wallet, slipping a couple of bills out while you take in the people milling about. The sun is almost set and darkness is falling, making the colourful lights of the booths brighter. Kids hopped up on sugar and the last vestiges of summer run freely, groups of teens, some of which you vaguely recognize, roam the grounds in packs. Families with strollers and little kids crying for too-big teddy bears. 

“Thank you.” He nods at the bored teen running the booth before his hand slips over yours again and he pulls you into the madness of it all. 

“Okay, what should we do first?” The smell is thicker the further in you walk, savoury and sweet all mingling together, warm sugar, cinnamon, hot oil and salt. The sounds of people screaming and laughing, the metal grinding noise and tinny carnival music of the tilt-a-whirl.

“Ferris wheel?” You point, and he nods. 

It’s four tickets each to ride the Ferris wheel and he hands them over, hand sliding down to your lower back to lead you into the little car. Slowly it rises, giving you the perfect view of your city. 

“Think we could see our house from here?” You peer out, trying to recognize the streets, plot your way home. 

“We might—you should see what it’s like from the helicopter. Can’t wait to take you up.” He leans over you, arm draping around your shoulder as he tries to see from your point of view and that heat crawls through your veins again, despite the air getting chillier the higher you get. 

It’s worse when you get to the top and the dress you wore, although very cute was not the right choice. You shuffle closer to him, stealing what you can of his warmth. 

“Here—“ he slips the flannel off and drapes it around you, his heat, his smell surrounding you as he pulls it tight is almost as good as a hug. 

“But aren’t you cold?” You pull your arms into the sleeves before he answers and he shakes his head, big hands rubbing your legs to warm you up. Just another aftershock, you think as your heart races, pressing yourself closer, just cold is all. 

A voice calls your name when the ride is over, stealing your attention when he leads you out of the car. A girl in a group waves, a girl from school. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” Chloe, a sweet girl you know from last semester's science class, catches up to the both of you, stopping when she sees Frankie. 

“Oh, sorry—“ she gives Frankie a look you don’t exactly like. 

“It’s okay, stay and catch up Bug, I’ll go get us a funnel cake.” He smiles and nods towards the busy stand. 

“Oh my god he’s so fucking cute!! Who is he?” She clutches your arm, dragging you towards the other girls who all huddle around you. Some of them you recognize, but most of them are strangers to you. 

“Oh he’s just, that’s my step-brother.” You smile, fingertips clutching at the sleeve of his flannel. Something sinks, something guilty, never have you ever made that distinction before. Brother, and step-brother.

“Well he’s fucking hot.” She stares at him standing in line, the other girls following suit. 

“We’re really close, he’s my brother really, he moved in when I was little so—“ she ignores your backtracking.

“How old is he?” One of the other girls asks, and you frown.

“Um, he’ll be twenty-five soon.” Your nerves are frayed, something about their attention, about the way they stare at him makes you uneasy. 

“I think he’s friends with my brother.” One of the other girls mentions, bored with the attention and you’re grateful for her disinterest. 

“Why did he call you Bug?” Chloe's eyes are fixed on him, eating him with her gaze. 

“I cried once when we were little, I’d accidentally stepped on a ladybug, he started calling me Bug after that.” Chloe bit her lip, barely listening to your words. 

“Let’s go on the tilt-a-whirl.” the bored girl chimes in.

“In a minute Erica–” Chloe pulls out her lip gloss, “Is he seeing anyone?” She smiles at you, applying the pink gloss and Erica sighs. 

Frankie’s eyes find you then, steaming plate of golden funnel cake in his hands as he gestures to an empty picnic table. 

“I’ll see you guys later.” You move to separate and annoyingly Chloe follows until Erica calls her, annoyed. 

“Chloe, come on, I have to be home soon. You can flirt with her brother when I leave.” Chloe huffs out an annoyed sigh but relents. 

“I’ll catch up with you later.” Chloe stares at him again, barely looking at you until they leave. Some of the girls wave, most of them move on without a word. 

He hands you a spoon when you sit.

“Everything okay?” He tears a piece of the steaming hot, interwoven pieces of fried dough, seemingly unbothered by the heat, it reminds you of Eddie pulling toast out of the toaster in the mornings. 

“My friend has a crush on you.” You dig your spoon into the giant pile of vanilla icecream on the side of the plate, dragging it through the warm strawberries on the other side. He takes a big bite of everything and raises an eyebrow. His eyes stay on you, on the plate and on his next bite. 

“That must have been annoying to hear, little gross for you.” He laughs, practically stuffing his face and you laugh, inexplicably relieved. If he’d asked who, if he’d searched for the group of them in the crowd it might have soured your night. 

“Little gross.” You laugh, feeling a little lighter. 

“So sweet of you, Bug.” 

“I know, I am literally the best.” Icecream drips onto your chin and before you know it his thumb swipes it off, tucking it into his mouth seemingly without thought but the aftershock hits you again, stronger than before. You eat quietly, finishing what you can whilst floating in a sea of impropriety. 

If he notices the way you retreat, the way you keep your eyes on your spoon, he doesn’t mention it.

The tickets get used up, the hour grows later and when you yawn he calls the night quits. The crowd has changed as you make your way through back towards the parking lot, from families with kids to older teens and young adults. Your stomach drops when you spot Chloe making her way towards you. 

“Hey!” She calls out, eyes sparkling and focused on Frankie. 

“Hi–” 

“You guys aren’t leaving are you?” She smiles, bites her lip, all of her attention focused on him. 

“Yeah we’re heading home.” She twirls her hair, and you sigh, she isn’t even paying attention to you.

“I’m Chloe, it’s nice to meet you–” She holds her hand out for him, and he narrows his eyes at her, giving you a knowing glance before shaking it with a polite smile. 

“It’s nice to meet you Chloe, come on Bug, I have an early morning tomorrow.” He drapes an arm around your shoulder and guides you away from her. She frowns, calling out to you but you apologize, tell her you’ll see her later with a sympathetic expression. She huffs out her annoyance, and pulls her phone out of her pocket as you move further away, heart racing at the feel of him guiding you. 

“I take it that’s her.” He whispers and you nod, ignoring a warmth that blooms in your belly and between your legs–you shake your head, focus on the cool night air, on the conspiratorial way he laughs and gossips, try to focus on his words and not the goosebumps that form on the skin under the weight of his arm. 

-

Frankie’s heart is racing when he pulls into their driveway, and he cannot place his finger on why. There’s a sense of familiarity in the act of killing the ignition, nerves in his stomach like he’s on a first date or something. An unwanted vision comes to him, of leaning over and pulling her in, of kissing her soft, and then not so soft floods his mind's eye and it embarrasses, angers him how badly he wants it. 

“Thanks for taking me, I had so much fun.” Her voice is low, almost afraid to be too loud on their quiet street. Her soft tone, the sight of her smiling in his truck surrounded by the streetlights, by his flannel sobers him. 

“Of course, Bug, anytime.” He undoes his seatbelt, breathing deep as he looks for his key. 

“Next time I’ll treat you.” She slides out of his truck, smiling through the window and his heart melts a little, something slides down his spine, something that educates him on the fact that that smile could make him do anything. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” He calls out to her, his eyes sliding down her back as he follows her towards the house, landing like a laser on her legs. He shakes his head, chasing away whatever demon it was in his head. 

She locks the door behind her, giving Frankie a flash of that smile again before they tip toe up the stairs. He tries, genuinely tries to keep his eyes downcast but he slips, and his eyes see up her dress. The sight of her ass, of the stretched white cotton of her panties covering her cunt almost stops his heart. He almost trips over his feet, taking a deep breath as he tries to regain his bearings. 

He reaches for his doorknob in a daze, but aware enough to make sure his body is turned towards his door. 

“Night Frankie.” She looks over her shoulder at him, shrugging off his flannel and handing it to him before stepping halfway into the soft glow of her bedroom and more visions flood his mind, her dress on the floor, her thighs pressed against his ears–he grits his teeth and takes it from her.

“Night Bug.” 

When his door is closed, he takes a deep breath and lets out a deep sigh. 

His cock hasn’t been this hard since he hit puberty, it throbs in his boxers to the tune of his heart, to the syllables of her name in his mind and in his mouth. He presses his flannel to his nose, eyes clenched tight at the mixing of their scents. The baser, more primal part of his brain filled in the story, filled in the fantasy of them together, of walking across the hall and getting into her bed, of peeling that white cotton off her with his teeth. 

He lets out a low fuck, into the forgiving quiet of his room and tries to get back to normal, to leave this unhinged, inappropriate version of himself behind. 

He slips into his bed, pointedly dropping the flannel and ignoring the way his cock continues to throb. He turns in his bed and buries his face into his pillow, barely suppressing the urge to bellow. He moves and his cock presses into the mattress, he imagines himself in the cradle of her thighs, grinding the heft of himself against that white cotton, he can almost imagine it in his mind. The heat of it, the slip of it soaking through the layers, the wide spread of her legs to accommodate him. He grinds against the mattress, wondering if she’d pull him closer, if she’d moan in his ear, if she’d beg–he moans into his pillow, ashamed, but unable–unwilling to stop. 

He comes with her name in his mouth, and a red hot guilt burning in his belly. 

He changes his ruined boxers with shame practically coming out through his pores. He slips back into his bed chastened, remorseful, but worst of all, satisfied. 

-

Your mom is half laughing, half squawking when you open the door. Eddie’s booming laugh sounds out after and you smile to yourself, toeing off your shoes and dropping your bag on the bench. 

“Seriously? Not an ounce of confidence?” Frankies shoulders are squared, hands on his hips. 

“Don’t say that! Of course I have confidence, it’s not you I doubt, I’m just terrified of heights and the thought of being up there is making me sweat.” She approaches him with open arms and he lets her embrace him, towering over her now. Eddie smiles, amused, eyes widening when he notices you. 

“Hey Peanut, you’ll go up with your brother won’t you?” He walks over, pulling you into a bear hug. 

“Will I?” You ask, it comes out half laugh, half nervous breath. 

“Sure you will, you aren’t a baby like this one.” Frankie gestures to your mom with a tilt of his head and she smacks his chest playfully. “I’m allowed to bring my family next weekend for a test flight, dad is working but you’ll come right, Bug?” He presses forward, gathering you up in a tight hug. Your mom frets, begging him to be careful while Eddie reminds her once again that this is what Frankie trained for. You barely hear them though. With him wrapped around you it’s hard to focus on anything but the places your skin touches his, the electricity running just under the surface. 

“Please say yes, I really want you there.” His arms squeeze around your waist and your fingers run through the thick, short crop at the back of his head. He pulls an involuntary sigh, a breathy thing you feed into his ear. His body tenses for a moment and you know he heard it so you pull away, laughing despite the warmth that builds in your hips, in the seat of your underwear. 

“Sure–yeah sure, of course.” You move towards the fridge, opening it up to grab a drink, and gather your thoughts. When you turn back his expression is strange, serious and knowing and all at once you feel like one of his books, something to be studied and interpreted. 

Eddie claps his hands, celebrating while your mom begs Frankie to be careful and safe. His eyes follow you though, quietly assessing while you hastily excuse yourself and practically run up into your room. 

You ignore everyone the rest of the day, keeping busy with organizing your things, listening to music and avoiding the slick, slippery way your underwear sticks to your body at the memory of his body close to yours, of the feel of his face in the crook of your neck, of the look in his eye. 

Later, when you’re in bed, you think about it for the hundredth time. You can feel the ghost of his embrace, the smell of him in your nose and everything in you burns to slip your hand down past your belly, under the band of your panties and–you sigh. With shame burning in your chest, you turn towards the wall and ignore the ache. When you eventually do fall asleep, you dream of strong, familiar arms, and soft brown eyes. 

-

Frankie is so happy, he’s practically bouncing in his seat despite the ungodly hour and it shoos away a bit of the apprehension. Surely anyone that excited has no fear of anything going wrong. 

“So when we get there, I have to sign in and speak to my instructor. I’ll sign you in too and once I go over all my checks we’ll go up.” 

“Sounds good.” You worry at the plastic handle on the door of his truck with one hand, while the other rubs down the front of your leggings, over and over, chasing that oddly comforting numbness while you stare, unseeing into the distance. 

“Bug,” His big hand envelopes yours against your leg, “I don’t want you to be scared–”

“I’m not. Sorry, it’s just a habit, I know we’ll be fine.” You squeeze his hand, ignoring the skip of your heart at the warmth of it. 

“Don’t be sorry, you’ll see you’re going to love it.” he threads his fingers through yours and you let out a quiet sigh.

The sun is still a newborn in the sky, painting everything in gold and you can’t help but watch him, the curve of his shoulder, the long line of his neck, his strong arms and the way his hand swallows yours on your thigh. It feels so right, so perfect, so–you stare out the window and try to give your brain a hard reset, slam on the escape key and focus on reality. 

“Bug–” The car is stopped at a red light and when you look at him his expression is serious, all of the excitement is tempered and you see him in the dark of your room, remember the cold sweat of nightmares he chased away. The golden light of the sun is shining on his face, a bronze bust of a beautiful man, a roman statue in the museum you went to on a school trip, the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his nose, soft brown eyes turned to molten honey and the want, the love for him turns the cage of your ribs into a bear trap around your heart. No, not a bear-trap, a venus fly trap, closing slowly, unavoidable. 

“If you really don’t want to, I won’t make you. I don’t want you to be pressured and just because I’m excited doesn’t mean it overrides your fear.” He lets go of your hand, bringing his fingers up to cup your face and the trap keeps closing, the soft brush of his fingers across the apple of your cheek makes you want to cry. You smile instead, letting out a huff of laughter that you hope reaches your eyes.

“Francisco.” You level your stare at him, doing your best impression of someone who isn’t completely falling apart and he laughs, the use of his full name reassuring him. 

“I said I’m fine, it is the crack of dawn and I am a little nervous but mostly, I’m really excited, I promise.” You give him your best, most convincing grin and he nods, moving once the light turns green. 

The hanger is massive, full of people walking with purpose, including Frankie. You keep up with him as best as you can, intensely curious about this aspect of his life. He greets people as you go along, some with a smiling familiarity, some with a more formal greeting, some with salutes and it’s a bit jarring. He signs in at one office, again at another, collecting special headphones to protect from the noise as well as a flight suit for him and for you. 

He helps you step into it, puts the headphones over your ears and then finally you get to an open bay, military helicopters lined up and your stomach drops in nervous anticipation. Despite the protection, it’s still loud, but he smiles and gives you the thumbs up before guiding you towards a man with a clipboard.

The butterflies in your stomach beat incessantly, your fingers find the zipper in your baggy flight suit and worry at it, chasing that tingling numbness while he goes over list after list, while the instructor practically yells into Frankies ear. Other people mill about, other instructors with other clipboards while you wait. Once they give each other the okay, he grabs your hand and leads you towards one of the Helicopters and the bottom of your stomach drops out of your ass. 

He opens the door, and guides you in. He steps up after you��re seated, half in to buckle you into the seat. His brow is set in a concentrated frown as he clips you in, pulling your headphones off to replace them with a helmet. His hands work quickly, confidently, checking and rechecking that you are properly fastened. The butterflies swarm again, only now it’s because of his proximity, it's the way his big hands pull at the straps around your waist, your shoulders, the one that comes up between your legs. He gives you a thumbs up after another forceful tug and you’re glad he cannot hear your thoughts.

He climbs into the pilot seat and slips his own helmet on and within a few heartbeats you can hear him in your ear. 

“All good?” He gives you another thumbs up, and you smile, nodding.

“Yes! All good, little nervous now.” He laughs, but nods back. 

“Okay, just going to go through my checks, and wait until I’m cleared to take off. I’ll be on another channel so I won’t hear you.” You nod at him, and he refocuses. 

It’s a different sort of excitement you feel watching him here, there’s an aching familiarity, that same intensity you can remember clearly through the open door of his room, head bent and buried in a book, or homework. His lip is pursed, a concentrated pout and a curiosity takes root somewhere you cannot–will not name about what it would feel to kiss him. Really kiss him. 

You shake your head, imagining your brain as an etch-a-sketch to clear at will and focus on the material of the flightsuit under your palms. Over and over you press your palms into the fabric, rubbing until that feeling returns. 

“Bug, you’re fine.” His voice comes through the helmet and you smile at him, feeling almost caught. 

“I know, I’m just a little anxious but I’m fine, I’m excited.” He nods again, trusting you and it only fills you with guilt, fills you with the inexplicable fear that if he truly knew the thoughts, the feelings you’ve been plagued with since his return, that he’ll pull away. 

“Okay, we’re cleared to take off. Ready?” He smiles big and now he’s the one shaking the etch-a-sketch, clearing your brain of everything except his smile. With a shaky hand, you give him a thumbs up. 

-

She laughs, and it makes his heart pound in his chest. 

The whole drive, the whole walk through the hanger he’d been half-terrified, half ashamed that he’d somehow coerced her into this whole endeavour but finally going up and seeing her laugh had punched him in the dic–gut. 

He refocuses, keeps his eyes–however difficult–on his gauges and controls and remembers his flight plan. He keeps his attention on the grip he has on the throttle, on his speed and elevation–

“It’s so beautiful up here!” Her voice, so full of joy makes him smile, “So fucking exciting!” 

He laughs, chancing a glance at her and her little face swallowed up by the helmet makes him ache, makes him melt, makes him stiffen uncomfortably–

Fuel reserves, elevation, acceleration

She laughs in his ear again and that disturbed, inappropriate part of his brain wonders if she’d laugh in bed, if she’d smile like that naked and his conscience shakes its head in disgust, in disappointment. 

“I knew you’d love it, Bug!” He refocuses, grounds himself in the controls and the flight plan, he adjusts the compass in his head and finishes his test flight. 

When he lands, she’s giddy, adrenaline making her bounce in the seat and he rejoices in yet another thing they share. Her eyes are wild as he unbuckles her, careful not to linger for his own sanity and replaces her helmet with the protective headphones. He smiles to himself as she grabs his hand, following closely behind as he guides her back inside. Something in his chest preens at the way she holds onto him, the way his hand fully envelops hers, something in him loves that he’s so much bigger, so much taller. 

His instructor finds him, calling him over to go over his flight and she nods when he tells her to wait for him with the other families. 

He gets the all clear, his flight had gone perfectly despite his mental state, despite the glaring distraction of her beside him. He’s excited to get home, to tell his family that he’s practically certified. Her face lights up when she spots him and his heart swells to grinch-like proportions. 

“Ready to go?” He smiles, hugging her tight despite his earlier plan to not linger, he cannot help himself. He breathes her in and he can smell the fuel mixing with shampoo on her, acrid and sweet and he takes it into his lungs before pulling away. The memory of her sigh, the breathy little hitch in her throat from the other day came to him again. An inkling, a suspicion he cannot fathom floods his brain at the way she bites her lip, at the frantic way she looks away from him fills him with a perverse hope that she might feel a fraction of what he feels. She pulls away though, fiddling with the sleeve of her suit and he lectures his loins. 

“Yes!” She nods, and he guides her back the way they came, helping her out of the suit before making their way back home. 

-

Your parents wait for you in the kitchen, both of them sitting at the table when you step through the door, still buzzing with adrenaline. 

“Everything okay?” Frankie notices them before you do, stopping at the mouth of the kitchen. They sit together, hands clasped and for a moment you’re terrified, another separation, another upheaval of your life but they smile and it’s happiness you see between them. 

“We have some news, take a seat.” Eddie gestures to the chairs and Frankie pulls yours out before sitting at his own place. You search Eddie’s face, hoping your earlier suspicion isn’t right, the thought of losing the best fatherly figure you’ve ever had burning in your throat. You’re quiet, not trusting your voice while you wait with your heart in your belly. 

“We’re getting married!” Your mom gushes, practically screaming it out before pushing her left hand forward. The ring on her finger shines in the light of the kitchen and the relief at not having your family ripped apart only lasts a few minutes. The shape of Frankie beside you burns in your peripheral. A million questions pop up, about your relationship to him, what you mean to each other, what you feel for him–Eddie reaches over and grabs your hand in his massive ones. 

“I wanted to ask you first, Peanut, but I got ahead of myself. You okay if I marry your mom?” His eyes are so kind, so loving and you let out a huff of laughter.  “Of course.” You smile and his eyes turn red, shiny with tears you’ve never seen and it burns hotter in your throat, the softness of him compared to the sheer size of him. A teddy bear, a dad. That would make Frankie…oh god.

-

tag list; @bbyanarchist @littlemissoblivious @pepperstories

[birdie-in-arcadia]

All In

I've been made aware (thank you anon!!) that I accidentally posted a duplicate of chapter 7 instead of an updated chapter 8, and I apologize greatly for that. As I've been saying, the world of Birdie is not a peaceful one at the moment amid family emergencies, but I appreciate you all for bearing with me! So, without further ado, here's chapter 8 with a bonus POV from Vessel. I hope you enjoy! <3

CHAPTER EIGHT — FREQUENCIES UNSPOKEN  (My Point of View) 

The rain comes back in the evening, soft and steady as it streaks against my window, creating a watercolor of the lights outside. My dorm room glows gold beneath the lamplight, the air steeped in that familiar blend of wood polish, paper, and the lingering trace of vanilla chai tea. Two guitars rest between us on the rug, mine older, worn in all the right places; his darker, sleeker, tuned by ear with the kind of precision I still aspire to find. 

We’ve been trying to write for the last hour, half-formed ideas scribbled in the margins of our notebooks, but nothing sticks. The music won’t come. Or maybe we’re both too caught up in something else tonight. 

Vessel leans back on his palms, gaze drifting toward the window. The curtain shifts in the cool, damp breeze. His silhouette glows faint in the candlelight. “It’s just one of those nights, I suppose,” he murmurs. “What do you mean?” I ask, his voice gently bringing me out of my daze. “Where nothing fits, nothing sounds good or makes sense on paper.” I glance at my notebook and chuckle dryly. “I know the feeling.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, then gestures toward the guitars. “Play me something. Something you already know.” I hesitate, fingers twitching, nearly stuttering my reply. “You first.” He raises an eyebrow, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Alright.” 

He picks up his guitar, adjusts the tuning slightly, drop D, I think, and strums a single, slow chord. The sound is deep, resonant, humming in my ears and travelling to rest in my chest. Then he begins to play. The song is unfamiliar, something soft and lilting, almost hymn-like. His voice follows a moment later, barely above a whisper, but clear. His voice is the type that sounds unexpectedly from a quiet corner, and every head in the room pivots to find its source immediately as if it’s some primal, cellular-level call from nature. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen or experienced before, and it absolutely fascinates me. 

“...and no matter the cost of rain... I will shelter you all the same...” 

There’s something in the way he sings, careful, but not cautious. Like each word is carved from pieces of him. By the time he finishes, I’m still frozen in place, guitar untouched. He glances up, sheepish. “Too much?” I shake my head slowly. “It was beautiful, Vessel, truly.” I tell him, and I wish I could help him see just how sincere I am about this. His voice takes every bit of my pain and makes my mind go quiet, and that is an incredibly rare occurrence for me. There’s always something swirling around up there. “You’re not just saying that?” he asks, his eyes unguarded. “Not even a little.” I tell him, shaking my head to enunciate every word. His cheeks color faintly, but he doesn’t look away. He smiles at me. It’s small and only reaches one corner of his mouth, but it’s still a smile, and I’m a bit taken aback at my own cardiovascular system as I feel my chest tighten, and my heart begins to race. There is just something about this awkward, enigmatic man that causes my body to betray me. 

My fingers find my guitar. The strings feel familiar beneath my touch, but suddenly weightier. Like the silence after his song still lingers in the wood. “I don’t know if mine will measure up,” I say, adjusting my grip. “Don’t compare,” he replies gently. “Just play.” So, I do. It’s a song I’ve known since I was sixteen; one I used to sing alone in my bedroom when I needed to feel something steady. The melody is simple and beautiful, something I taught myself. I sing it softly. Not trying to impress, just trying to be understood. 

“Somehow I’ve found a way to get lost in you... Let me inside, let me get close to you...” 

When I finish, I keep my eyes on the fretboard. The room is still. Then, his voice, quiet and sincere: “You have a beautiful tone. Very warm and the natural vibrato is splendid.” I glance up, startled. “You really think so?” He nods once, his eyes sincere as he looks into mine, and I can’t help but smile. “You too, y’know,” I say. “Your voice, it lingers. Incredibly soulful and comforting, really.” I finish, and I hope I haven’t said too much, but I meant every word. He doesn’t say anything back, but he smiles at me again, really smiles. His teeth are pearly white and neat, his canines more prominent than the rest of them. He looks down for a moment, then he looks back up at me, and suddenly I can feel every hair on my body stand on end. His gaze isn’t boyish and nervous now. It’s heavy and... longing. His eyes scan up and down my form as I shift in front of him, suddenly aware of the way he’s looking at me. It’s almost hungry. 

Something shifts in the space between us. The air thickens, just a little, like the pause between two notes that haven’t quite resolved. He doesn’t look away, and neither do I. But neither of us says it. He breaks the silence first. “Earlier,” he begins, voice quiet, gaze softer than before, “at the market… I didn’t mean to act strange.” I pause for a moment to ensure that he’s finished speaking. “You weren’t,” I say gently. “Not really.” 

He exhales through his nose. “I just didn’t expect it to feel like that.” he says, and my stomach drops a bit. “Like what?” He hesitates for a moment, then: “Like maybe I’d been taking something for granted.” I watch him closely. “I didn’t think he was flirting,” I whisper. “Not until he asked for my number.” I finish, my gaze softening on him. “I know,” he says. “That’s why I didn’t say anything.” his eyes meet mine. “You could’ve.” I say, and he pauses. He takes a deep breath, then says, “I didn’t want to ruin the… whatever this is.” He gestures vaguely between us. My breath catches, eyes going wide for a moment. Neither of us corrects the word this or the notion behind it. 

The record player hums low in the corner, forgotten. I shift slightly, closer, but not touching. “Do you ever wish things were simpler?” I ask. He lets out a quiet laugh. “All the time.” I look back up at him, and my nerves flare, but this needs to be said. “I mean… us.” His eyes meet mine, and they're almost quizzical. He doesn’t answer right away. Then: “I don’t wish it was simpler necessarily. I just wish I knew the rules.” I tilt my head slightly as my brows furrow slightly. “What rules?” I ask. “The ones that say how close you’re allowed to get before it stops being just… music.” 

My face smooths out as my eyes widen slightly. My skin is buzzing and my mind is a tsunami of thought and words, none of which I should say aloud. I offer something smaller, less demanding yet still true. “I really like playing with you, Ves,” I whisper, and he nods, his shoulders visibly relaxing a bit. “I love it.” he replies simply, and if you were to hook me up to a monitor in that moment, it would read a flatline. 

We spend the rest of the night sharing songs; old favorites that spark nostalgia and feelings we’ve packed away, new experimental and thought-provoking tracks. We exchange fragments of ideas and wordless melodies are passed back and forth like secret classroom notes folded in half. Nothing else is said, but everything is felt. 

(Vessel’s Point of View) 

The rain returns like a second skin, soft and unassuming, washing the windows in gentle streaks. It catches the glow of the streetlights outside her dorm, painting blurred halos that dance across the floor. The inside is warm, golden, and peaceful. There’s a candle burning near her desk. I can smell it; something sweet and comforting, like vanilla and maybe cardamom. 

She’s here, barefoot on the rug with a guitar in her lap, and I am utterly, quietly infatuated. I sit opposite her, posture relaxed to hide the tension beneath my skin. My own guitar rests beside me, freshly tuned, but untouched for the last several minutes.  

We’ve both been pretending to write for the better part of an hour, scrawling the same few chords and half-rhymes across the page, but the truth is, at least for me, the music is already here. It’s sitting across from me in an Evanescence tee and messy braid, humming low to herself while her notebook holds her attention, like she’s not already the center of mine. 

My gaze drifts to the window, to the dim outline of the city behind the curtain, and I feel her watching me. “It’s just one of those nights, I suppose,” I say quietly, voice barely above the rain. “What do you mean?” she asks. Her voice brings me back like it always does, gentle and grounding. 

“Where nothing fits,” I murmur. “Nothing sounds good or makes sense on paper.” She glances down at her notebook and lets out a soft laugh, and I must look away for a moment. There’s something about her laughter, like it’s meant for the walls of a home, not a studio or this tiny dorm room. It’s something genuine, something I want to continue hearing. 

I gesture toward the guitars, attempting to shift the focus and bring us both out of our brain fog. “Play me something. Something you already know.” 

She hesitates, and my heart stumbles at the way her fingers twitch over the strings. She’s shy. It’s endearing in a way that makes my lungs feel too small to hold any necessary amount of oxygen. “You first,” she says. 

I raise a brow but can’t help the smile that creeps in. She doesn’t realize yet how much I’d do if she asked, if she just looked at me the right way. “Alright,” I say, and pick up my guitar. 

I drop the tuning into D without thinking. My fingers move automatically over the frets, and I begin to play something soft, unfinished, one of the pieces I always come back to when I’m not sure what to say. My voice follows, hushed but steady. It wavers a bit with my nerves and vibrato, but I continue anyway. I keep my eyes low, focusing on the chords, and I try not to let my nerves show. But I can feel her listening. She listens like she’s learning me this way. 

“...and no matter the cost of rain... I will shelter you all the same...” 

When I finish, silence settles between us after the last note. I finally look up from my trembling fingers still in position on the fretboard. She’s still staring, guitar untouched. Her expression is soft, stunned almost. It makes something flutter low in my stomach. 

“Too much?” I ask, suddenly unsure. She shakes her head. “It was beautiful, Vessel. Truly.” I swallow. There’s a part of me that wants to believe her, and a bigger part that wants to taste her lips as they say my name like that. I shake that thought form my head. Too much too soon, man, damn. “You’re not just saying that?” I ask, shifting my focus. 

“Not even a little,” she says, slow and deliberate. I can’t look away from her. Her eyes shine in the candlelight and her face, soft and sweet, makes my brain short-circuit in the most divine way. Her words curl around something raw inside me and make it feel a little less empty. 

I smile, small, but real. She sees it, and her own smile grows, and I swear the air shifts in that moment, and I feel it in my chest. It’s something fast, something dangerous. 

She picks up her guitar and I watch her hands; watch the way she adjusts her grip. “I don’t know if mine will measure up.” 

“Don’t compare,” I tell her. “Just play.” I’m desperate to hear her. She begins to strum the intro to her chosen song, and I lose the ability to breathe properly. Her voice isn’t loud or trained, but it’s moving. Moving in that way only truth and trust can be; quiet and intimate, like she’s handing me a part of herself I’m not sure I deserve. 

“Somehow I’ve found a way to get lost in you... Let me inside, let me get close to you...” 

I close my eyes for a moment, and that’s all it takes. The feeling rises again; this helpless, hungry ache in my chest. The wanting. The wishing. The need for her to be secretly singing this song to me, because I know I was singing for her even if she doesn't yet.

When she finishes, the silence is louder than before. I manage to say something, anything to fill the silence because I swear she can probably hear my heartbeat. I comment something about her tone, her vibrato, and I mean it. God, I mean it. I want to tell her how her voice curls around me like a jumper fresh out of the dryer and how I’d have it as the only track in queue on the endless record player that is my mind. 

“You really think so?” she asks, and I nod quickly. Too much. I’m thinking too much, shit. Her smile hits me like a sudden warmth in winter, and I feel that familiar heat that floods my belly when I think about her smile. 

“You too, y’know,” she says softly, her voice adding to the heat stirring low in me. “Your voice, it lingers. Incredibly soulful and comforting, really.” 

My heart stutters. I look down, trying to gather myself. When I look back up at her, she shifts slightly, and suddenly, I see her. 

Not just with my eyes, no. I feel her. Her presence overtakes the room, filling every pore on my skin. The soft slope of her throat, the curve of her cheek in the lamplight, the way her chest rises and falls with every breath... It all feels dangerous now; a slippery, magnetic slope. 

And I don’t look away. I can’t. I let it show for once; the hunger, the ache, the endless want. 

Something shifts between us, like gravity’s been recalibrated. My eyes trace her form before I can stop them, and when I meet her gaze again, it’s like standing at the edge of a precipice. But she doesn’t flinch; she doesn’t even pull away or try to shift the focus. I feel my sweats suddenly becoming tighter, and I all but roll my eyes as I slide my guitar over that area, ashamed of biology being rude as per usual. 

She speaks first, grounding me again. “Earlier, at the market…” I nod, breath catching as my focus returns to the elephant in the room. “I know, I’m really sorry for going cold like I did. I just... didn’t expect it to feel like that.” I tell her. “Like what?” she questions. As she should. She deserves an answer. 

“Like maybe I’d been taking something for granted.” I reply, my voice wavering with the fear that I’ve just said too much. She watches me closely, and her voice drops to a whisper. “I didn’t think he was flirting. Not until he asked for my number.” 

“I know,” I murmur. “That’s why I didn’t say anything.” I reply honestly. I really didn’t have a right to get as worked up as I did when I saw that guy talking to her. It’s not like she’s spoken for. Yet. 

“You could’ve.” The way she says it, so gently, like timid granted permission. “I didn’t want to ruin the… whatever this is,” I say, gesturing a finger between us. And it’s true, I don’t want to screw up what we’ve got going on here, because it’s become a crucial part of my life. 

I want to touch her, to pull her into my arms and love her 'til there's nothing left of either of us. I want to tell her, God, I want to tell her everything; how I think about her voice hours after I return home, how the scent of her candles or perfume linger in whatever I'm wearing, and how I keep the article in my bed so I can breathe in her scent until it fades. How I dreamt about her last week and woke up breathless and messy. But I don’t, because it’s not time yet. I can tell she’s been hurt before, so I have to let her do this at her own pace. I know in my soul that she will be well worth the wait. 

“Do you ever wish things were simpler?” she asks. I laugh under my breath. “All the time.” I answer honestly. She looks at me again, differently this time, braver. “I mean… with us.” 

My heart seizes in my chest. This is it. “I don’t wish it was simpler, necessarily,” I say, a lie. “I just wish I knew the rules.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. I want to bash my head into a wall. 

She furrows her brows. “What rules?” I exhale through my nose, gathering the courage, and reply, “The ones that say how close you’re allowed to get before it stops being just… music.” 

And there it is. The truth, softly spoken but hanging in the air between us like dense smoke. She stares at me; her mouth slightly open, but she’s quiet, she’s glowing. 

“I really like playing with you, Ves,” she whispers. I nod, unable to help the smile. “I love it.” She has no idea how much I mean it, or how much I wanted to say a different, much heavier three-worded phrase instead. 

We spend the rest of the night trading melodies and holding back words we’re both too afraid to say. Every note, every glance, every quiet laugh feels like a secret we’re keeping from each other. But I hope, I really hope one day we’ll be brave enough to speak them aloud. 

@yourgirlisa @houseofsleeptoken @wormm-mom @lynzeequitlollygagging @blackcherrywhiskey here you go! Let me know if you'd like to be added here :)

[n0t-evenhere]

Welp, my dear people. We are on the second to last chapter of the series. “The Star at night.” The finale is going to be soon. Probably this week. I will admit, I did t have an idea of what to draw this time for the story. It’s also a lot shorter this time. I hope you enjoy the read all the same.

⚠️ warning ⚠️ death, gore, bones, knives, unusual death.

“The star at night”

Part 4 “you before me”

Ray pov

How sad, the anguish in the poor face of (you). Ray knew she was going to run, the woman named Carol saw it in her mind. There were many things that he saw in Carol's mind in a few different times he read her mind. He knew Carol would try to sacrifice you to him. Even before she actually went through with it. Carol had been out for herself since he showed up, she planned to leave you and everyone else behind. He almost felt bad for you. Almost.

He dragged you by your arm down the hall, even as you resisted. “Please! Please just let us go! We’ll leave a-and we won’t come back I swear!” You pleaded in his arms. Pleaded for your life and who else remained. Ray sighed, no…you get mercy. None of you deserve it. Not after what you unknowingly started. Was it petty? Sure, but Ray had every right in his mind. Trying to steal Steel sheriffs mask. The man who had tormented him day in and day out for too many years of his liking.

Suddenly he yanked you off your feet, not even your feet roughed the ground. “Let you go?” He inquired. “Promising you won’t come back.” Ray feigned consideration before her look you dead in the face. “No.” Venom dripping in his words. A hate rooted so deep, he wasn’t even sure it dealt entirely with any of the people here. “That’s not good enough. I see you dead.”

(You)

Your heart sank at his words, this was doomed from the start. In that moment, looking into binary Star’s eyes, you saw a deep seated hare. An anger that felt consuming, but it felt different. Wasn’t directly at you or anyone here specifically. It’s a hate that marinated over time, or had been sitting deep down until it erupted without warning. Maybe there was hope? Maybe you could reason with him. You want to reason with him, you didn’t get that chance though before the locker room door opened.

When the door opened, you felt your body suddenly fly through the air before colliding with another body knocking the wind out of you. “AH!” Carol cried out, both you on the floor laughing and heaving in pain. There wasn’t a chance to try and get up before being grabbed by the ankle and dragged back. “No! No!” You try and fruitlessly grab and hold onto anything. Anything that could give you leverage. Nothing. Just nothing to hold on to. “Let’s begin our little chat hm? I think we need a little heart to heart. As I said before.” A pressure on your back kept you in place on the floor. No doubt his foot resting on your mid back. Even with little pressure, your failure and effort to get away was useless; he held fast as if your own strength meant nothing.

Binary Star let out a little chuckle. “No, you aren’t going anywhere. As for our Carol here, I have to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere either.” He hummed, thinking. “How should I ever do that? “Ah, I have it. I know exactly what to do.” Just as Carol got to her feet, she suddenly began to rise into the air for a moment before being slammed against the wall, in the next moment crashed to the floor with a gasp. A nearby locker began to groan as it tipped forward before slamming onto Carol’s knees with a nasty crunch. Carol's screams of agony made you cry out for her. You so desperately wished to save her. Even if she meant to lean you behind. Even if she really didn’t care for you at all…it’s hard giving up a love that you have for so long.

The absolute pain etched into her features made your heart ache deeply. “So, let’s start with a bit of truth, seems fair right?” Binary Star pressed his foot a bit more into your back, emphasizing his words, making you whimper a little. “So, Carol. Let’s start with you, yes? I did a little digging if you will. From the moment (you) mentioned the locker room exit, what was the plan, I mean, your plan?” Binary Star asked, an air of arrogance to his question. Carol shook her head, “I don’t- I don’t know what you are talking about.” Binary Star nodded. “So close.” He smiled. “Wrong.”

The locker rose off of her, Carol's knee caps on full bloody display. Torn flesh, exposed bone. Enough to make anyone gag. That’s not what you were worried about right now though. “Stop! Please Stop! Stop! Don’t-“ you screams on protests went unheard as the locker inched up before slamming down on Carol's hips with another sickening crack, Carol shrieked in agony. Binary star crouched down to you. Grabbing a fist full of hair pulling you head back as far as he could manage, just so he could look at you. “I’m doing this for you. You know. My actions aren’t motivated only by anger. I’m exposing more than one crime here. I want to expose as many things as possible, as they come of course.” Binary Star regarded you before standing up again.

He turned his attention to Carol. “Ah, Carol, I haven’t forgotten you. Promise. Let’s try again, yes? I’ll give you a second chance because I am just that nice. When you learned about the locker room. What was your plan?” Carol looked at you, tear filled eyes and guilt. “There it is. That’s what I’m looking for. Knowing and admitting.” Binary Star said quietly above you. “I- I was going to leave.” Carol confessed, Binary Star gasped audibly. “Leave?” He grabbed you by the hair, taking his foot off of you. Lifting you up. His fingers come up to squeeze your cheeks. “But, how could you do that to someone you love?” He asked with fake shock.

He looked at you, he seemed almost…kindly curious. “How could you be so stupid? Loving someone who doesn’t love you? Not for the right reasons. I’ve seen a lot in my life, more than I’d like to admit. I know when people are just using you. These people,” he shook his head. “There’s no real love for you. Only for what you have.” Carol cried out, “that’s not true! I-I love you (you). I love you like your own daughter!” Binary Star’s face dropped into an annoyed look. His attention turned to Carol. “I’ve been in your mind Carol. The minute you learned about that locker room. All you could think about is escaping and going to the beach. Retirement. Lying isnt a good look for you Carol, so shut the fuck up.”

You lip curled,”Don't talk to her that way.” You hissed at him, the anger prevalent in your tone. He laughed, a laugh from down deep. “Are you any place to be making demands sweetie? I don’t think so, why would you care anyway? Hm? She was just leaving you to die.” Your eyes look to Carol, who is still in pain on the floor. “Because I love her. Even if it’s true. I love her. She’s human, she’s scared.” He looked at you, pity. “You naive little thing. No wonder you were so easily exploited.”

A locker closer to Carol's head began to tremble. “No, no, no! Don’t do this! I’ll do anything please!” You knew where this was going. He didn’t even look at you. “No amount of begging will make her live. The best thing you can do? I accept it. No one’s going home. Not tonight.” The locker leaned forward before it slammed down, a wet crunching sound echoing in the room, blood and brain splattering from under the locker on impact. You could help but gag and throw up at the sight.

Suddenly there was a new sound in the sudden quiet, Binary Star’s grip loosened on you, looking to the right, you see it, a knife stabbed into his triceps brachii. “That’s for my wife you sonofabitch.” Joe…it was Joe! He was alive! Joe took the moment to grab your arm pulling you away from Binary star, he pulled you along out of the locker room. You could help but look back. Binary star didn’t scream pain, in fact it’s as if he felt nothing at all. Didn’t even seem bothered. Removed the knife letting it clatter to the floor. That’s all you saw before he was out of view.

“Joe! Joe, you are alive.” You cried tears of relief. “I thought I lost you. I’m-I’m, we lost everyone. I’m so sorry, I tried to-“ Joe stopped you from continuing, strain on his own voice. “I know. Just- let’s just focus on getting out of here.” The front door was down the hall up ahead. Joe who was ahead of you suddenly fell to the floor with a cry of pain, your hand slipping from his. Causing you to screech to halt. Turning back, the knife he used to stab the hero was now lodged into his calf. “Joe!” You rush to his side, taking him under his arms to drag him. “No, we're almost there! Come on!”

The knife pulled from his leg stabbing him in the back causing him to cry out. You look up, Binary Star making his way to you. No, no, no, no. Not Joe. If you could save just one. Only one. “Stop!” You scream at the hero, anger and helplessness. The knife lifted again, you took a hold of it to try and stop it, but it plunged down again, into Joe’s side. Tears prickling in the corner of your eyes. Joe, even face down, took your hand. The knife is still pinging in and out of his body. “Go, you can’t stay.” feverently you shake your head. “No,” you choke out. Joe gave your hand a squeeze. “I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving you.” You chant, it’s as if you lost it. You repeat the phrase over and over as if it gives you comfort.

Joe’s POV

(You)…the young one he helped so long ago. Help give a new life to. One where you would be comfortable. Wouldn’t work like a dog. Sure, at first it was all business. As time went on though, he could help but fall in love with you like his daughter. When his own daughter, Carmilla, left, You filled that hole in his chest. Carol was set on Carmilla, and wouldn’t settle for anything else. Not that Joe settled, he just…he loved you like his own. He ignored the pain that radiated through his body.

Joe slid his hand up to your cheek with a wheeze, “It’s the end of the line, (you). You gotta go. Let me go. Run. Don’t look back.” With one look, one glance into your eyes Joe knew. He knew you wouldn’t run. Didn’t want to leave his side. Couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind. You had seen so much tonight. He knew that much. He took a deep wheezing breath. “Just close your eyes kiddo.” He said softly. Joe didn’t want you to see him die. He also knew you were next, maybe Binary star would give him the mercy of giving you a painless death. Quick. The world started to go to black. You had your eyes closed as he began to fade. “I…love…you…s-so…much.” Tears pricked his eyes. “Don’t you…for-get it…”

You POV

His words were choppy, dying. His hand slowly slipped from your grip. You didn't have to open your eyes to know he was gone. Everyone was gone. There was only a beat of silence before you let out a wail of emotional agony. All morning you didn’t get the time to do. It all just exploded, here and now in this moment. You grab Joe and pull him close. Cradling his body to you. He was heavy, still warm. .

[python333]

task force 141 getting gaslighted by [reader] — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the title says, tf141 gets gaslighted by [reader]... nothing serious, dw!!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings gaslighting, but used in extremely stupid and unnecessary ways, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], probably ooc but i'm a little more confident in this one than the last one!

note i'm so sorry that this is so long... it's like 3k+ words :{ and the soap and gaz sections are a majority of those words LMAO also tysm to the people who reblogged my last post?? thats so sweet?? im crying?? it was my first post too so i was just hdjsfhjdhsfjf tysm tysm!!

JOHN “BRAVO SIX” PRICE

➥ price is basically your dad atp.

➥ so it’s safe to say he knows about pretty much all of your weird little antics and shenanigans.

➥ this includes your tendency to gaslight people about the stupidest shit possible.

➥ trust him, he was a victim of this.

➥ the first time it happened, it was just too perfect of an opportunity for you to pass up.

➥ price was trying to eat his food in the mess hall, when you had sidled up right next to him at the small table he was eating at, and commented on his food choice.

➥ “Oh, nice. We got the same thing.” you’d said, setting down your tray of chicken, rice, and potatoes right next to price’s bowl of soup.

➥ at first, he thought you were just joking, and gave you an amused look and commented something along the lines of you being blind because you absolutely did not get the same thing as him.

➥ you take your gaslighting very seriously. this is not a joke.

➥ so you insist that you did in fact get the same thing, and you shoot a very confused look at him for good measure. your definitely-serious tone throws price off, because there’s no way you could possibly think you both actually got the same thing…

➥ … right?

➥ cue the rest of your lunch being spent alternating between eating your food and arguing that, “But we did get the same thing!” while price can only counter with, “No we did not!”

➥ now you may think that this is the point where you give up.

➥ it absolutely is not.

➥ see, price’s first mistake was giving you leeway to argue with him over this. his second mistake was suggesting that you ask someone to come over to the table and settle this by telling you both if you did get the same thing for lunch.

➥ naturally, you chose soap, because who else would encourage your bullshit with the same enthusiasm he does?

➥ long story short, he agrees to come over and settle the very weird argument you’ve started with price, and takes a very close look at both you and price’s chosen food items for the day and after you shoot him a glance that tells him everything he needs to know he confidently says, “Aye, these’re the same.”

➥ price has never recovered from the crisis he had after that entire interaction.

➥ so, the next time you do it, he knows exactly what to do.

—

When you sat down next to Price during lunch, he immediately got a sense of deja vu. Which is weird, because you sit next to him everyday, so what could possibly be different about today?

“Oh, nice. We got the same thing,” you’d commented offhandedly, setting down your tray of food, of which was just about the direct opposite of Price’s meal. Oh, so that’s why I feel like this has happened before. Price stared at your tray for a moment, flashbacks running through his mind, recalling his trauma from the last time this happened.

Then finally, cautiously, he agreed, “... Yeah. Whatta coincidence.”

You didn’t know if you should feel disappointed, happy, or shocked by him agreeing with you this time. You were fully prepared to pull Soap and Gaz aside to take a look at both of your trays of food and agree that they were the exact same meal, down to the portion sizes and everything. After a quick moment of thinking, you smile at him with the most innocent smile you can muster and eat your food, ignoring the sigh of relief Price lets out when you don’t begin to argue with him.

—

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

➥ actively enjoys being gaslighted.

➥ in the sense of like, how many ways can he defend himself in ways you can’t argue with?

➥ he’s like the gaslighting victim version of markiplier with the whole ‘i’m not a masochist, i just wanna see how much pain i can handle’.

➥ so safe to say he very much encourages your gaslighting.

➥ the first time and only time you ever gaslighted him was when you were both hanging out in his room, both of you on your phones, soap watching ‘my babysitter’s a vampire’ after you told him you thought he’d enjoy watching it, and you scrolling through social media to pass the time.

➥ then, you got an idea.

➥ “Soap?” soap perks up at the sound of his name and hums in acknowledgement of you talking to him, “Have you finished that show I recommended to you yet?”

➥ “Nah, I’ve still got a few episodes left.” he’d responded.

➥ “Really? What season are you on?”

➥ “The last season, season two.”

➥ “... What do you mean the last season?”

➥ you two go back and forth, with you insisting that no, you told him to watch ‘the vampire diaries’, not ‘my babysitter’s a vampire’.

➥ the entire thing goes on for at least thirty minutes before soap sighs and insists that you’d told him to watch ‘my babysitter’s a vampire’ one last time, and you finally break.

➥ you break out into a small fit of laughter, and stop yourself to take a deep breath and admit, “Yeah, I did.”

➥ honestly, soap is very impressed by your determination to manipulate him. 10/10 would encourage you to do it again. in fact, will help you gaslight anyone you so please.

—

You and Soap were sitting in his room, him on the bed and you on the floor sitting down on one of his pillows. You’d just been scrolling through any and all apps you had, even going through your photos app, bored out of your mind, when you suddenly got an idea. You turned off your phone and looked over at Soap.

“Soap?” He tapped on his phone screen to pause the show he was watching and hummed, looking over at you. “Have you finished that show I recommended to you yet?”

“Nah, I’ve still got a few episodes left,” he’d answered, sitting up and cracking his knuckles.

“Really?” you’d asked, feigning confusion, “What season are you on?”

“The last one, season two,” he replied, showing you his phone screen. You looked at it for a moment before drawing your eyebrows together in pseudo-confusion.

“... What do you mean the last season?” you’d asked, “There’s eight seasons.”

“Uhh…” Soap looked back at his phone screen, confused, and tapped his screen a few times before he shook his head, “Nay, there’re two seasons, c/n.”

“Are you watching the right show?” you’d asked, watching as Soap nods confidently, and yes. You had set down your phone, ready for this new form of entertainment.

“Yeah. My Babysitter’s a Vampire, right?” he said, hoping for confirmation that he’s watching the correct show. You slowly shake your head negatively.

“No, I told you that you should watch Vampire Diaries,” you’d clarified, watching as Soap started to disagree.

“Nay, ye told me tae watch the Babysitter one,” Soap argued, quickly pulling up his text messages with you, “I reckon I’d ken if ye told me tae watch Vampire Diaries.”

“Well, I did,” you argued back, “I told you, verbatim, ‘hey you should watch Vampire Diaries, I think you’d really like it, since you like making fun of old 2000s shows with me’. I texted you yesterday about it.”

Soap raised an eyebrow before he’d turned his phone to you, showing you your text messages from yesterday, where you definitely did not tell him to watch Vampire Diaries. You took a good look at the text messages, before looking up at Soap, concerned, “Are you okay? That clearly says what I said it says.”

Soap looked baffled, and it took everything in you not to laugh, “Nay, ye messaged me tae watch the Babysitter one, so I’m watchin’ the Babysitter one!”

You two went back and forth, arguing over what the text actually said. You’d constantly deny everything Soap saw and he’d argue back in the most flabbergasted tone that ‘Nay, it’s richt there, I ken I’m no’ goin’ daft!’ and you argued back that he’s definitely seeing things because how could he possibly be reading the text but see completely different words than what it actually says?

Eventually, you both stopped arguing, taking time to catch your breaths. You had taken one look at Soap’s miserable facial expression before breaking out into a small fit of laughter, giggles spilling from your lips as you tried to muffle them by putting your hand over your mouth.

“Ye ‘nd I baith ken that the text says you want me to watch My Babysitter’s a Vampire,” Soap breathed out, watching you try and muffle your laughter.

After you’d taken a moment to catch your breath, you admit, “Yeah, I know.”

Soap’s eyes widened and he immediately said, “So ye admit it?”

You nodded affirmatively and he groaned, flopping back down onto the bed, the action having made you giggle even more. “Ye’re a bampot,” he’d grumbled, though there was no serious anger or irritation behind his words.

—

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

➥ now why would you even try this, huh?

➥ have you MET the dude?

➥ he absolutely will not fall for it.

➥ he won’t encourage it, won’t argue with you, in fact he’ll shut you down with a simple “No.”

➥ you’re too scared to even try again after the first time you tried it.

➥ the first time you tried to gaslight him, you were both just walking down the hall together.

➥ you tried convincing him that gaz was off on a mission when you had just passed by him.

➥ the look he gave you… my god.

➥ “No he isn’t.” i’m so sorry please let me jump off a cliff i’m sorry i made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgment and i don’t expect to be forgiven i’m simply here to apologize mr. simon ghost riley lieutenant sir.

➥ you never try to gaslight him ever again.

—

You thought it was a good idea at the time. You don’t know what drugs you were on or what meds you were off, but you decided that, yeah, I can totally gaslight Ghost with no repercussions, that’s definitely possible. So here you are, walking right beside him, the both of you going to completely different locations but he doesn’t need to know that.

When you first sidled up to him, walking by his side down the hall, he looked over at you for a moment and was just a bit confused but didn’t say anything otherwise. The two of you passed by Gaz, who was minding his business just walking past the two of you. He gave you both a quick nod and you made a point to nod back, not only out of respect but because you thought it would make your gaslighting session just that much better.

Just a minute after passing Gaz, you sighed and commented, “Can’t believe Gaz is on that super long mission right now. Two weeks is crazy.”

Ghost had slowly turned his head towards you, a sight that made your stomach drop because oh God I definitely fucked up, and simply said, “No he isn’t. We just saw him.”

I think I just shit my pants. “Y- yeah, right, right, definitely, no clue what I was thinking,” you blurted out, stumbling over your sentences because oh my GOD I’m gonna piss myself why is he so scary lord have mercy on my soul. Ghost raised an eyebrow at you, before huffing out a small laugh and continuing his walk, amused by your sputtering. You let out a sigh of relief as he simply walked away, and you headed in the correct way of where you're supposed to go, completely chickening out of your original plan.

—

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

➥ oh that poor poor boy.

➥ probably gives into it and just lets you gaslight him tbh.

➥ like maybe if your argument/gaslighting isn’t too strong he’ll argue with you, and sure he still won’t win but it was worth a try, but if you’re gaslighting-gaslighting him? he’s just gonna agree with you.

➥ like at that point anything you say is law and he is a law-abiding citizen.

➥ if your argument is strong enough and he’s tired enough he will genuinely believe you, too.

➥#savegazfromreader

➥ the first time you tried to gaslight him, it was pretty easy. you two had just finished sparring, with you coming out on top, much to your own surprise. gaz had given you a lighthearted pat on the shoulder and went off to shower, when you had the best idea you’ve ever had.

➥ you had groaned and playfully complained, “I can’t believe you won that.”

➥ gaz turned around, confused, and was like, “Won what?”

➥ cue the next 5 minutes being spent by you saying that gaz had won and arguing with him that he did win.

➥ “Honestly, you don’t have to lie and say I won. I appreciate that you don’t want me to feel bad, but I can take a loss.”

➥ hes so confused omg.

➥ starts gaslighting himself into thinking he won, then he’s like ‘wait no i didn’t’.

➥ but he still goes along with it because… what else is he supposed to do?

➥ ever since then he’s been your main gaslighting victim, and your favorite.

—

You hated the feeling of being sweaty, but you hated the feeling of someone else’s sweat even more. Maybe that’s what tripped you up that day, letting Gaz swipe his leg underneath yours and force you to fall down onto the mat beneath you, where he then started counting to ten, as per usual with sparring. But luckily for you, you were able to grab his ankle and yank it towards you, making Gaz fall on his ass and letting you straddle his chest and begin to count to ten just as he was doing earlier.

Of course, you dramatized your counting, because who would you be if you didn’t? You emphasized every number and your lips twitched into a small smile as you watched Gaz scoff and look away from you, clearly fed up with your theatrics. Once you were done counting, you got up and held out a hand for Gaz, who took it and got up, letting out a huff and patting you on the shoulder.

“Good job,” He’d said, smiling down at you, stepping off the mat and walking over to the bag of stuff he’d brought with him. After that small interaction, you just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to gaslight him. It’s not your fault! Who else would pass up an opportunity like this?

You groaned and stepped off the mat, muttering, “I can’t believe you won that. I really though I had you.”

“Won what?” Gaz questioned, looking back at you, confused.

“The spar?” You answered, though you made your answer sound more questioning, as if confused on why he’d even question your words. As if it was obvious that you hadn’t won. Gaz simply looked at you, very confused, trying to figure out if you’re joking or not. By the serious look on your face—a poker face you’ve worked on for the longest time—he figured that you weren’t not kidding, which worries him a bit.

”... No, you won that spar,” Gaz insisted, before nervously joking, “Remember? Thirty seconds ago, when you kicked my arse after I thought I had you down?”

“Honestly, you don’t have to lie and say I won,” You laughed, walking over to Gaz and patting him on the back, “It’s not like I’m a sore loser or anything like that. I can take a loss.”

He was so confused, and continued to insist that you had won the small sparring match, and got more and more confused the more you fought with him on this. He was so sure that you had won—you did, didn’t you?

He eventually just sighed, and ‘admitted’ that you were right, he did win. Satisfied, you smiled up at him and reminded him that you can take a loss, and you went on with your day. And if you heard him asking Price if he could go through the security cameras for a moment, requesting to go back to that specific time the two of you had sparred, no you didn’t.

[acupofteaintheafternoon]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a oneshot of Miles admitting his feelings for reader? (preferably with a defence attorney reader that works with Phoenix but ok if not) I am dying for more of your content like it's just so good. MWAH <3

Miles Edgeworth confessing to reader

blah blah blah Y/N is not mentioned or even used in here blah blah blah reader's gender is up to you and there's little to no dialogue in here since i absolutely do not know how to properly write this man blah blah blah 2nd pov

It was an average day. You woke up, did Phoenix’s bidding when it came to work, take a break, nap and go back to the same cycle everyday. Occasionally you had to deal with Edgeworth, a ruthless cold man who never seemed to be happy or even hint a single smile. 

Lowkey, you began getting close to him someway or another. You kept meeting him during cases, as much as you thought he’d be annoyed by your mere existence at the crime scene you began to actually form conversations with him by a miracle. Even though you were scared shitless of him that feeling started to fade away. That’s what made you get closer to him. 

He started slowly to appreciate you as in, he liked your intelligence, your attentiveness and the fact that you never gave up even in the most critical moments. Him seeing your smile made his heart throb and he surely didin’t know as to exactly why. He hated it, he hated that feeling and he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t but he did. 

For sure, he tried avoiding you as much as he could but it was almost impossible since you and Phoenix both needed him for important stuff. Mostly Phoenix but you were always, ALWAYS near his side like glue. It was almost impossible for Edgeworth to ignore you.

Of course, he couldn’t keep this act up since by each day, those feelings of those towards you will worsen and eventually reach the point in which he has to tell them out loud. But I guess his ‘’perfect’’ persoana won’t let him. So he (doesn’t) leave them like that.

He went to ask his friends (Phoenix and Gumshoe) about his feelings, think about his decision that will change the bond raised between you and him, literally taking weeks to practice and it was all prepared on a day. On a special one like that. He decided that he should confess his feelings to you, with enough courage and support from his friends.

That day was planned on a day of the week because why not? And it would have made more sense for Edgeworth since at this point you were literally coming to his office every single day (with Phoenix) or meeting him during a crime scene or hell even giving him a visit because why not?

Yeah, now that day went normal for you and Phoenix, except that Phoenix knew what was going on with the whole confession thing but he tried his best to not give you any hints. This day was one of those days in which you had absolutely nothing to do. No crime, no murder , no legal hellscapes, no investigations just, nothing, pure free time.

So how did you even get this man to confess to you? Simple. Phoenix had one of his excuses ready to go to the police department to visit someone due to some ‘’important stuff’’. Of course of course , it seemed that the day was like a dream, too good to be true and now you had to do work. No days off sadly.

And now? What else to do? Wait on some leather chair that seemed used by a lot of people and that had one corner torn off by some reason? You could see the sponge that was used in the process of making this chair. Well, until you got Gumshoe in front of you telling that Edgeworth needs you. Out of every person on this earth that he could choose, why you? Why exactly you? Why not his friend Phoenix why not Gumshoe himself? Why you? The thoughts were spiraling and you were worried.

Now here you are, in Edgeworth’s office, trying to prepare yourself mentally for what is going to be happening.

‘’I really don’t know how to precisely say this but since a few months, I’ve been feeling weird towards you. I have no words for my feelings..hell I don’t even know what’s wrong with me. I just feel weird feelings towards you. I appreciate the fact that you’re close to me but I want for our bond to expand. I want us to be closer. Feel free to refuse this offer of mine and go on with your life, please tell me.’’

You were absolutely baffled. Of course, you accepted it, you accepted his confession towards you, you could also see that he’s trying his best to not die on the spot due to him never being used to saying this out loud to someone. But yeah, you were happy for him since he got those feelings out loud.

Now that he confessed he invited you to a restaurant to really set things off. Of course, after the confession Phoenix asked Edgeworth how it went. It went smoothly , except for the fact that he was trying not to die on the spot.

[starsreminisce]

For Sarah, writing about the couple is about writing the romance on the pages.

If Elucien hadn't happened, I'm absolutely sure Vassa would still be with Jurian.

Vassa and Jurian are on the same journey and Lucien won't leave the fae world to follow any human Queen.

I hate the cliché of leaving everything for love and that's what I see this Vassa and Lucien ship about, being about a consolation prize and about one person giving up on love.

If Elucien already loved and cared for each other, there's no reason for a book.

For me, Sarah talking about Az's journey already says that the story will be about him and Elain's Journey will revolve around him and Lucien still has a lot of history.

In short: If it was about rejecting a partnership, Lucien and Nesta would still be soul mates.

I've always wondered why change if the idea was not to end up together?

So every day Elucien convinces us that it will be the end of the game and I just hope there won't be a 10 year wait to finish Acotar.

The thing that gets me about Vassien being endgame is that it would be the third time SJM shifted Lucien’s endgame back to someone who shares Feyre’s archetype.

Lucien, to me, always felt more developed than Tamlin. That becomes even more apparent when you consider how SJM has talked about him. She modeled him after Jamie from Outlander, called him her love, and said he has someone special coming to him.

From the start, it seemed like Tamlin and Feyre were never meant to last. But Lucien had depth, pain and growth. It would not be surprising if he was originally meant to be Feyre’s true match.

At one point, SJM said she imagined Lucien with Nesta, who like Feyre is a sharp-edged character, until she realized they would destroy each other. So why pair him with Vassa, who is described as having a foul temper and a fouler mouth and someone who would get along just fine with Feyre? That does not feel like a meaningful shift.

If a successful or even amicable rejection of the bond was part of Elucien’s arc, we would have seen it already.

Instead, ACOFAS set up three clear storylines. Nesta needing to begin her training with Cassian to heal. Azriel was being positioned to confront his Illyrian heritage. And Elain and Lucien were both set on a path to work through their separate issues before meeting in the middle.

You’re right that if Elain and Lucien were already in love and just waiting for their book to make it official, there would be no tension or growth. Feyre’s bond with Rhys appeared at the end of ACOTAR but she still went back to Tamlin. If she had gone to Rhys immediately, ACOMAF and especially Chapter 54 would not have landed the same way. Even in ACOSF, Nesta and Cassian’s bond snapped early, but it still took months and a major confrontation for Nesta to finally face it. The delay makes the acceptance more powerful.

In ACOTAR, we’re told the mating bond is always present, waiting for both sides to be ready before it snaps. Lucien was always Elain’s mate. Before she was born, before she became fae, and even if she were to reject it.

SJM has treated the bond as something sacred. HOFAS made it clear that it comes from a divine source. She dismissed the idea that it could be fake. And we know Elucien’s bond is real, not fake, because we got his POV. He felt it instinctively the moment he met Elain again, away from the chaos of Hybern. That moment was so powerful it brought guilt over Jesminda, and he literally had to fight off his instincts. That is not something shallow or convenient. That is not something she would casually undo.

Elucien already has the call and response that the bond seems to demand. And we’ve seen glimpses of that dynamic as early as ACOWAR.

In her podcast interview with Jenna Bush, SJM said she had four books planned in her head. In HOFAS, she introduced the possibility of interworld travel through Nesta. Previously, she also said the next arc would focus on multiple couples with a bigger story in the background.

That setup makes more sense with Nessian, Elucien and Gwynriel. Vassa has no connection to the Dread Trove since she is not Made like Briallyn and wouldn’t be able to control it. She fits better as a foil for Elain than as a romantic lead. Gwyn’s interest about Merrill’s theory of connected worlds already positions her to take on that kind of arc. And Azriel has made it clear that Elain should not be near the Trove, which makes it hard to place her alongside him if his storyline revolves around it.

[bayleavesfromthevine]

What's your top 5 windbreaker characters!

Oooo! I love this question! 1. Kaji - He's my absolute favorite in the series. There's something so emotional about watching him struggle and fail time and time again via his backstory & chapters 123-129. We're introduced to him as someone similar to Sakura, only more realized in his role as grade captain & in Furin as a whole, but then we're slowly shown the lowest moments of his life and how he's worked to come back from them.

He quite literally hates himself (or has hated himself in the past) and yet he still chooses to have trust in his friends when they tell him that they don't view him the same way that he views himself. I also appreciate how that support/"the power of friendship" didn't automatically "fix" all of his insecurities, but rather they're something that he still grapples with on the daily & that the support he's received gives him the space, confidence, and safety net to work on himself. It's realistic and makes him feel like he still has so much room for growth.

I also think it's beautiful how he tries to mentor Sakura so that he doesn't make the same mistakes Kaji made, or fall into the same mindset he did the year before. You can really tell that he's trying to impart all of Hiragi's teachings onto Sakura and it's such a heartwarming way to watch a character pay it forward.

(I have a HC that Kaji's blinding rage episodes are the result of a brain injury/head trauma that he sustained from a fight during his childhood. Someone please take him to a doctor for some scans, I beg.)

Also, I'm adding a cut here because this is a long one lol

2. Tsubaki - (For the record, in my heart Tsubaki is she/her, but the series uses he/him pronouns so I'll use that for the sake of clarity and to not cause confusion.)

Tsubaki is quite literally everything and honestly we need a spin-off manga where he's the protagonist. Tsubaki quite literally steals EVERY scene he's in, I cannot be bothered with other characters whenever he's on the page and I cannot wait until he's animated. The fashion? The pole-dancing?? The being in love with Ume??? I hope they end up together in the end, that's the only ship I really want to become canon (for context, I usually don't like when ships become canon because then ship wars and arguments happen and it ruins all the fun lmao).

Also, the way that Tsubaki's theme of living in a way that is truthful to yourself & not trying to suppress who you really are (i.e. gender expression) is juxtaposed with Suzuri's theme of wealth inequality and obtaining basic human needs (i.e. food & things that make life worth living) is beautiful to me because having them see eye-to-eye and relate to each other in the end is ultimately (in my interpretation) the author saying that even though these two themes look vastly different from each other, they are both basic human rights and they are both necessary to be alive. Like, their arc was political as fuck and I was SO moved by it. I should probably go into that more and bring in specific examples at some point because I know I didn't do that great of a job explaining it lol.

Also, Tsubaki's fights are incredible like? pop off girlie, eviscerate a man in your high heels as a treat, you deserve it <3

3. Sakura - MY SON. MY BOY. MY FERAL CAT CHILD.

Sakura is such a great protagonist. His development is slow and authentic, which speaks to how well he's written, and his history is so mysterious. There's so much that we don't know about him and I'm thoroughly enjoying having information revealed little by little. Not only does it give us the chance to theorize about him and who he was before enrolling in Furin, but it also (to me) reads as a trauma response. We spend most of the series in his POV and him not revealing his backstory is indicative of his unwillingness to recall it. We only get flashes of his past when they're relevant and paired with how that trauma is starting to heal in his new circumstances (i.e. remembering his lonely summer vacations in the past as he's about to go to the beach with his friends. Or explaining how isolated he felt via that tightrope analogy just as he realizes that he doesn't need to live that way anymore & can safely exist with others who care for him).

I love seeing how he grows to care for others and empathize with them. He's so different now than he was in the beginning of the series and I just wanna give him all the hugs.

4. Umemiya - Ume's philosophy about food is my favorite theme in the entire series: food tastes better when you eat with your loved ones & we are all made up of the foods we eat and the people we meet. (At some point, I also wanna write about how the theme of food plays into the story, but today is not that day.) It reminds me of this quote I read forever ago from one of those Michael Pollan books LOL: “Cooking is all about connection, I've learned, between us and other species, other times, other cultures (human and microbial both), but, most important, other people. Cooking is one of the more beautiful forms that human generosity takes; that much I sort of knew. But the very best cooking, I discovered, is also a form of intimacy.” ― Michael Pollan, Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation

Also this: “Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food.” ― Hippocrates

I love how he uses food as a means to connect people and build his family. I would love to see him have a genuine conversation with Suzuri at some point.

My biggest fear with Ume is that, because of his role at Furin, at some point he's going to have to be removed (either by graduating and leaving on good terms, or via some crazy action conflict). The series is very calm right now, and even when there are enemies, we all know that Ume is only a phone call away. But removing him would destabilize everything we've grown attached to thus far. So much hinges on him just being present, which is part of why I adore him so much as a character.

5. Suo - Suo is a little fucker and I love him to the moon and back. He's so respectfully disrespectful in the most hilarious of ways and I cannot wait to know more about his backstory. Is it probably the most tragic out of everyone's? Yes. Am I ready for it? No. Do I still need to know it right tf now? Also yes.

It has been pointed out how Suo never eats with the others, which definitely connects to Ume's/the series' broader themes about food and eating together as a means to build community. Suo does feel the most emotionally distant out of everyone, clearly hiding something, and I imagine that the moment when we finally see him eating with the rest of the cast will be intensely emotional.

Also, I'm probably wrong about this, but I do NOT think that motherfucker has anything wrong with his right eye. I think he wears that eyepatch to mess with people, as is his right. I support his gremlin nature.

For the record, if we knew more about Kotoha, she'd be on this list because I absolutely adore her. She also compliments the main themes of the series and expresses them through a non-Furin perspective, which tbh I think this series needs more of. I think we need to see more of the town/community that our beloved main characters fight so hard to protect, especially when it comes to moving the plot/Sakura's development along. (This series also needs more women, but I digress LOL)

[deception-united]

Hi! Could I ask for advice on how to write an enemies to lovers, non-toxic romance between a guy who's former bully and the girl he used to bully?

The guy (and his former group of "friends") initially bullied her out of envy and jealousy because she has everything he wanted (a happy and healthy relationship with both parents, true loyal friends, genuine optimism, etc.)

After facing punishment and a host of humiliating incidents, he sees the error in his ways and changes for the better.

I feel like a story like this might be very controversial so I wish to avoid any toxicity int their relationship.

Hi, thanks for asking! This is a fantastic concept, and you’re absolutely right to want to avoid toxicity. Enemies-to-lovers, especially when one character has wronged the other in the past, requires careful handling. The main things to keep in mind are accountability, growth, and a slow-burn dynamic where the romance develops only after trust is rebuilt. Here’s are some tips to do it right.

1. The bully must genuinely change—without expecting forgiveness.

His redemption shouldn't all be about “earning” her love; it needs to be about becoming a better person for his own sake. Show his growth through actions, not just words—this can be shown in even greater detail if you plan to have parts from his POV where he reflects, works to fix his flaws, and tries to make amends. Not because he wants a relationship with her, but because it’s the right thing to do.

Have him struggle with guilt. He shouldn’t expect her to forgive him easily, and he would probably feel uncomfortable facing his past actions.

Show him distancing himself from his old “friends,” rejecting their toxic behavior. Maybe they turn on him, making him experience a fraction of what she went through.

2. Make her healing the priority.

She doesn't have to forgive him right away, and likely won't. There will be feelings of anger, hurt, and wariness throughout the process; her healing is independent of him, and she should reclaim her own power.

She may still flinch at his presence or feel conflicted when she sees him change.

She might not want anything to do with him at first, which is valid.

Her friends might be protective and sceptical of his intentions.

3. No instant romance—let them rebuild from scratch.

You can have them start as distant acquaintances, then slowly form an uneasy truce, then perhaps a reluctant partnership in some situation (school project, work, mutual friend in trouble, etc.). Trust is built over time, through consistent behavior.

He can show he's changed through small, consistent actions (e.g., standing up for others, acknowledging his past without defensiveness, respecting boundaries).

She might struggle with seeing him as something other than her past tormentor (internal conflict).

4. Atonement without a grand gesture

One mistake often made in redemption arcs like this is the "big moment" where the former bully "proves" they’ve changed (sacrificing something, protecting her, etc.). While dramatic, it can feel like a shortcut. Try to make his redemption a series of quiet, consistent choices rather than one grand act. Though this is not to say it can't be done correctly if that's what you want to go with!

5. Give her power in the relationship.

If you're trying to avoid toxicity, he should never try to push her into forgiving him or seeing him differently. Instead, have her be the one to set the pace—she gets to decide whether to let him in, and he needs to respect that.

6. Mutual growth

It’s not just about him becoming a better person—it’s also about her learning that she’s allowed to move forward on her own terms. Make her internal conflict, growth, and arc as complex as you would any other character.

7. Humour and shared interests help bridge the gap.

Tension, banter, and reluctant teamwork can be great ways to ease the shift from enemies to something softer. Maybe they end up on the same sports team, in the same club, or thrown into some situation where they’re forced to rely on one another.

___

Things to avoid:

Don't excuse his past actions. His jealousy was an explanation, not a justification. He should never act like she "had it coming" just because she had things he didn’t.

Don't make her feelings secondary to his redemption arc. Her journey is just as important, if not more.

No "you were the only one who ever really understood me" or anything of that nature – this can make it feel like he only changed because of her, which can be unhealthy.

No love fixing everything. Romance shouldn’t erase trauma. Even if she falls for him, she may still struggle with memories of the past, depending on how severe the bullying was.

Hope this helped! I do have a previous post on writing enemies-to-lovers tropes (here), so feel free to check that out for more general tips. Happy writing ❤

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