#I think I got to around... chapter 15 or something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugucidal · 11 months ago

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# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER ii. [9.1k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: the shopping trip you were forced to go on with Toji doesn't go exactly as planned.

୨୧‬┊warnings: taboo cw! + semi-smut + age difference (reader is in her 20's and toji is 34 ) + slow burn + one-sided pining + attempt at humor + slice of life + reader takes multiple L's + megumi is mentioned + reader gets objectified (not by toji) + toji is a serial hoe

୨୧‬┊a/n: make sure to check out my main post! ive included a pinterest board for everything described + a playlist ♡

MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part ii.

You didn't know if it was a blessing in disguise, or a curse. Perhaps a cruel joke the world was playing on you like it always did. Yet here you were again, your knee high fluffy socks skidding across the oakwood flooring of your room, scouring through your closet like a deranged cat looking for something to wear on today's decor run.

"Shoes, shoes…I'm missing shoes," digging through the furthest corner in the enclosed space of your closet, you spotted an unopened box on one of the shelves. It was a simple pair of heeled, white mary janes with a heart buckle. You got it 2 birthdays ago but never saw an opportunity to wear them, until now.

Your mother told you that Toji was picking you up at 10:30 am despite you telling her that you would go after lunch.

'He's a busy man. He said this is the only time he's free today.'

"Yeah, of course he is. Always busy doing God knows what." Sighing, you decided on your ensemble for this morning. It was rushed and unplanned, but it would have to do.

Looking at the time on your phone, you saw that it was 10:15. You've still got 15 more minutes left till Toji arrives to pick you up. Letting out a breath, you sat on your bed, shoe cladded toes tapping the floor as your knee bounced, restlessly waiting.

Going over to your floor length mirror, you checked over your choice of outfit once more. It wasn't too cold of a day, so you opted for a knitted long sleeved, off-the-shoulder, cream toned sweater dress that hugged your curves. With its hem stopping just right underneath your ass.

You were debating between thigh highs or leg warmers, but decided leg warmers looked better scrunched down on your ankles with the shoes you opted to wear. You didn’t do much with your hair last night since you were only at home, but since you were going out in public today, you felt like doing something with it. Something cute specifically, as you opened your vanity drawer deciding which accessory to wear today. Picking some silk ribbon you saw laying about, you braided it into your hair, sealing it with a rubber band and tying an extra ribbon into a bow to conceal it. And finally, you had your bag. Well, more like bear. The teddy bear backpack you had on matched well with the neutral color scheme. So, you went for it. Honestly, you reminded yourself of a doll. A doll with a pretty face, and a whole lot of problems.

Taking a deep breath, you puffed out your chest. Your confident expression stared back at you, but on the other side of that mirror you felt nothing but anxiety simmering the longer you stood there in silence.

"I might as well wait for Toji outside then." It was no use standing around in your room. The bed looked way too inviting as it only made you think of excuses not to go. You wouldn't let your bed get the best of you this time.

Walking down the stairs, you headed towards the entrance, petting your cat's furry head along the way. Upon opening the door, you were met with the sight of freshly layered snow. It was thin, barely half an inch thick, but it already had you feeling a little better with the anticipation of making a snowman with it once the days got colder. You remember there was a time when you used to do that with Toji.

God, you can't even reminisce about the past without Toji having some part in it.

You desperately needed to figure out how you were going to do this.

Last night was a bust. Not much progress was made besides the fact that Toji actually spoke to you for the first time in years. Not that he had much chance to do so sooner even if he wanted to, with you a couple hours away from home and all. But it was the bare minimum. Right now you needed a plan, and you needed to think of one fast.

Standing against the railing of your porch, you sorted through your thoughts. You're going to get picked up by Toji in less than 10 minutes. You'll ride in his car, pretend that everything's okay because it is, you'll buy whatever this party needs, and if it goes well you'll confront him on the ride back home. And that'll be the end of that.

Easy.

But when is anything ever easy when it comes to that man. Nothing. The answer has always been nothing.

This line of thought has you so deep into your own frustration that you don't even realize you've been ranting to your teddy bear backpack. Murmuring to it harshly, and rolling your eyes like you're gossiping with a friend about the latest dumb thing that happened on Twitter today.

And it's only when you see a black pickup truck from your peripheral vision pulling up, that you stare back at the bear in horror. Mind being snapped back to the present, and feeling embarrassed that you were seen like this. A man was causing you this much turmoil, that you've been complaining to a damn backpack about it.

Quickly putting your bag back on, you smoothed out your sweater dress. You really fucking hope he didn't see that.

Facing towards the driveway you paused. Your eyes widened, already in awe at the vehicle as you saw it more clearly up close.

The last car you saw Toji with was an old, red Toyota truck. It did it’s job, but definitely not without a couple repairs here and there every so often (that you may or may not have checked him out while he was doing so.) So seeing this new, shiny, black Chevy parked right outside the driveway was definitely an exciting upgrade. The wheels were lifted, making the body higher than its original design, and the windows were tinted midnight black, making it nearly impossible to see who was inside unless you stuck a cheek to the glass.

Overall it was big, and intimidating.

Just like him.

'Guess those freelancing jobs paid off then.’

*BEEP BEEP*

Jesus. You didn't even notice Toji had already parked. How long were you just staring at it for? If he started to honk at you, it must’ve been more than what society deemed normal.

Running up to the passenger side of the truck, albeit meekly, you stopped right in front of the door just as the tinted windows were being pulled down giving you a better view of the inside. There sat Toji on the other side, upper body turned and facing towards you with one hand still on the wheel.

Toji’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets at your appearance but it was quickly masked by a look of amusement.

"You busy daydreaming or what?"

Ignoring his remark, you placed your hands on the edge of the cold glass, peering up at him and around the interior.

“So, new truck huh?”

"Oh this? Yeah, got it not too long ago after receiving my payment for….from work."

You squinted your eyes in suspicion, noticing that he caught his words, but you weren't going to question it. No, you were going to let it go. You knew he wouldn’t tell you anything anyway, most likely just brushing it off as suddenly being hit with a stutter. He never spoke about his “overseas” jobs that he apparently racked up stacks of cash from, and despite him saying it was only freelancing work, you had a hunch it was something a lot shadier than that. You weren’t that dumb. Which is exactly why you weren’t going to ask.

Choosing to stay oblivious, you gave a compliment instead. "It's nice, Toji. Really."

You were about to open the door to get in and cut the small talk short (and because you’d rather bask in the in-system heating than out in the cold) but it wouldn’t budge. It was still locked. Why isn’t he unlocking the door?

Instead of unlocking the door for you like normal people do when picking up a person with their car, Toji isn't exactly someone you'd consider normal. Instead, Toji looked you up and down slowly as an awkward silence took over. You stood there rigid, allowing him to unashamedly undress you with his eyes. At least you think that's what he was doing. He’s being really bold today…does he seriously not plan to open this door?!

Your mind was running a mile per minute. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but you kind of liked the attention he was giving you right now. Especially since he hadn’t bothered to give you any last night. Not that you blame him. Looks like the effort you had put in, despite being rushed, was working, leaving him dumbstruck. You felt proud that you managed to have him speechless.

Unfortunately, your sudden boost in ego was quickly shut down.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Oh. Talk about anticlimactic.

"Huh? W-what do you mean?"

"I mean," He stood there, a single eyebrow raised, and vaguely gesturing to your form with his hand, "This."

Looking around to see if anyone else was witnessing this, you quirked your head in question. "What about it?"

"I know ya didn't just decide to go out looking like that when it's freezing out here. Go back upstairs and put some real clothes on." He looked at you sternly with a scowl etching onto the scarred side of his lip, arms crossing in front of his chest.

Was Toji actually scolding you right now? The nerve of this guy!

You hadn’t seen it right away, but after staring back at him in disbelief at what you were hearing, you noticed his own personal ensemble.

There’s no damn way…

Looking up and down at him as he had done to you just moments prior, you saw that he was wearing an unzipped puffer jacket with a hoodie underneath which was fine, you had no issues regarding that. The problem was what he was wearing below.

This man, who was condemning you on your sweater dress because it was apparently unfit for “freezing” temperatures, was wearing shorts and slides. At least he wore socks with it, if he hadn’t you think you may have actually gone back home and let him do the shopping himself.

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, but quickly shut up after seeing Toji wasn’t finding this as amusing as you were.

This was crazy.

Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose in disbelief. “You’re telling me to put warmer clothes on, when you’ve got shorts and slides on?”

Toji was quick to counter. “It’s not the same, don’t compare it.”

“Yeah it is!”

“Look kid, I’m not gonna argue with ya. Either change your clothes, or stay home.”

That’s exactly what you want to do. But you know deep down you can’t, you already told yourself you had to sort things out with him. And the first step to that, is sorting this out.

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After a couple pleading looks and adamant convincing of, 'I'm not cold!' 'I swear I'm fine. It doesn't even feel like winter out here!'

Toji relented. Letting out a sigh, shaking his head as he told you, 'Fine, whatever. But don’t come cryin’ at my feet when your stubborn ass gets sick and your mom gets mad at you.'

Now here you were, seated on the heated, brand new black leather seats of his Chevy after he finally gave in and unlocked the door, letting you in. You spent the trip with your head resting against the palm of your hand somberly, as you watched the scenery of snowy trees and other cars pass by.

The awkwardness throughout the entire car ride was at an all-time high. Higher than what it'd started out with earlier. You were both quiet; your brain a little less. Toji's disappointment regarding your attire was a total blow to your ego. You were just trying to look cute.

Not like it was meant for him anyway.

Is what you wanted to try convincing yourself in order to feel better, but really, you knew it was a lie.

As for Toji, that thought you had earlier about him ogling you? It was right on the money.

But he had to quickly save face by instead acting like a concerned adult worrying about the wellbeing of his innocent, young neighbor. If he was being honest, he didn’t give two shits about what you chose to wear. As long as it was for his eyes only.

Yes, he knew he’d hurt your feelings for telling you to go change. He understood that he was being overbearing and unreasonable especially after you brought up his own attire, but you had to understand. He physically couldn’t accept seeing you wearing an outfit that barely covered your ass like that in public when he should be the only one to see you looking like that. Yes, he was sick for looking at you that way and he knew that which is exactly why he needed you to cover up. Both so that no other creepy assholes (except himself) could see you that way, and because he doesn’t think he could control his thoughts about you for the next couple hours you have alone together. It’s why he had to shift in his seat a couple times. Though, you didn’t notice that.

This game you were playing with him? This seducing thing? With little skirts and shit, yeah it was doing something to him.

Maybe you haven’t changed as much as he thought. As they say, old habits die hard.

After about 15 more minutes of unspoken thoughts, you finally arrived at the store.

Why did you agree to do this again? Oh yeah, you didn't.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you took a deep breath to try and regain your composure. Just focus on the task. Opening the door, you hopped down and out onto the recently snow-shoveled pavement with Toji following suit as he turned off the truck, taking the keys from the ignition and shutting the door behind him.

You could feel Toji’s burning gaze boring into your back as he walked behind you, keeping a slight distance between you and him but still enough that people could tell that you two came together. Entering into the store, you whipped out your phone, unlocking it and clicking on the notes app filled with a list of things you needed to get that your mom instructed you two to buy. You crossed your fingers hoping you could get all this done quickly and smoothly.

Obviously, life loves to humor you because things did not go smoothly.

Everything was going well at first, you scoured the aisles looking for streamers, fairy lights, pretty napkins, silver and white balloons, and whatever else was needed; putting it all into the basket that Toji was holding, still following you like a sort of puppy—or more like a guard dog with the menacing aura he carried around himself with every step he took.

Walking around you’d occasionally find something that caught your eye, tinkering around with the item for a couple seconds before putting it back down and walking over to the next intriguing thing—like a snow globe you found of a character you recognized filled with pink and white sparkly snow. You bet your ass you added that one to the basket. That hello kitty snow globe was a need, not a want. How something like that even found its way to a store like this was beyond you, but hey, you weren’t complaining.

You even found cute little hats while looking around and managed to get Toji to wear a pair of elf ears while you wore a Santa hat, telling him a silly joke about how he was Santa’s jolliest helper. That only earned you a huff, and roll of his eyes as he took off the ears and pulled the hat you wore down over your face, chuckling as he watched you make dramatics about how you were being suffocated despite being able to breathe perfectly fine.

Interacting like this with him gave you butterflies. You’d let him ruin your perfectly styled hair if it meant things were going back to the way they used to be between you both.

Everything was going fine.

You were actually having…fun. Which you hadn’t anticipated. You were so caught up about feeling like you were on thin ice with Toji, and though you still sort of felt that way, you felt ecstatic that things were beginning to feel normal. Like nothing even happened.

“Hmm, looks like the last thing on this list are more scented candles. Thought we already had some? Oh well.” You shrugged your shoulders. You think your own obsession with candles might have stemmed from your mom now that you think about it.

Toji leaned his body over your shoulder, looking down over your list himself at the check marked boxes except for one. You immediately stiffened up, not expecting him to get so close to you, and especially not for him to make body contact with you. You wish you didn’t have all these layers in the way. You internally shook the thought off before it could escalate. Now was not the time to be having these touched starved thoughts!

Pulling away from you, but still keeping close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, he put the basket down next to your feet. “Yeah, I saw a couple of those on the other aisle we passed by.”

“Oh good! One of us can get it. Stay here and I’ll quickly-“ Your suggestion didn’t even have a chance to reach the other end of Tojis ears before it got shut down.

“Nah, you stay here, and stay put while I grab it. And don’t go straying off you understand, kid?” Toji looked down at you, waiting for your answer. He’d rather not leave your side, especially since he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t get distracted by something and walk off like a lost mouse-but he tried to reason out in his head that it was only one item. He’d quickly get it and come back, and you’d still be there.

You weren’t going anywhere.

So why did he find it so hard to walk away from you? Must be some type of trauma he thinks.

Nodding your head, with a ‘Mhm! Promise. Not going anywhere. Nope, staying put.’ Toji searched your face to see if you were lying but decided you weren’t, and began jogging off towards another aisle in a different section of the store.

He couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about this as he looked over at all the scented candles, picking up the most expensive looking ones.

“S’not my money anyway..”

Maybe he should’ve just taken you along with him. It’s not like it would’ve caused the both of you any more hassle than going alone would. Shit. Something was gnawing at Toji to hurry the hell up and get back to you. As he briskly walked to the aisle where he had left you, he was met with something far worse than overpriced décor, and it had him seething.

There you were, face scrunched up, and looking highly uncomfortable as some random guy, around your age it seemed, was trying to flirt with you.

Keyword: Trying.

Toji didn’t know who this guy was but he knew damn well what was happening, and he wasn't going to let it slide. Not on his watch. That he wasn't even wearing.

You hadn't noticed Toji's arrival yet. Still preoccupied with keeping calm and trying to ignore this random man that thought it would be chivalrous of himself to make comments about your body. Saying things about how he doesn't know why your man let you out like that, and if you were his bitch he wouldn't let you out his sight.

It's a good thing Toji wasn't there to hear any of that.

What Toji did hear as he was silently coming up behind the both of you, that almost made him run up and deck the guy in the nuts was when he leaned his body down exaggeratedly to look at your ass and said, "DAMN. That's more ass than…. I've seen….in a while!"

This prick didn't even know where the hell he was going with that line, but Toji sure knew where that guy was gonna end up if he tried it again.

At this point, you were more than ready to kick this guy in the balls, but you didn't want to anger him. Who knows what this guy has got going on in his head? He's harassing you at a decor store for fucks sake!

Before you were thinking about making a run for it to the direction of where Toji had gone, deeming your situation helpless without him; it seemed like someone finally answered your prayers because the moment you looked back, there he was standing right behind the both of you.

'How did I not notice him?? He's wearing slides for god sake! I should've heard the 'plip' 'plaps'!'

"The fuck are you doing?"

The guy was still leaning down when Toji spoke up. He was about to cuss out whoever this other guy was for interrupting his daily "I objectify women for fun" hobby, until he looked up. There Toji stood, 6'2, built like he was made for war, in his shorts and slides, holding candles, and a look so threatening etched onto his face, you think this guy may have almost shit his pants. If the audible gulp meant anything.

"O-oh fuck. Look sir, I was just admiring your hard work, very beautiful daughter you have here. Didn't realize…Sorry." The way he ran away was almost pitiful. Almost. But none of you had any pity for trash.

'Well that was quick', Toji thought. He assumed he might've had to light up this candle he was holding and choke him with it but it seems that wouldn't be happening today.

That's one less crime the authorities could pinpoint on him.

Turning his attention towards you, he asked if you were alright.

"Sort of…not really. Being objectified isn't exactly the greatest feeling…" Toji noticed the way you hugged your hands around yourself, most likely trying to cover up. Suddenly feeling too exposed for comfort despite attempting to brush the interaction off.

Maybe you should've listened to Toji earlier and changed your clothes to something more fitting for winter weather. Screw looking cute.

Though, the regret didn't have a chance to get very far because suddenly you were being brought back to the present.

"Lift your arms up."

Huh? "Wh- why?" The next thing he did nearly had your heart leaping out of your chest. Taking off his puffer jacket, he nudged your arms to lift up so he could help put it through the holes of the sleeves. After checking to make sure it was on properly, he zipped it up a bit more than halfway and patted you down in an effort to make you look a little bit less like the emo version of the Michelin Man.

"You gonna be okay?" You were still a little surprised at the gesture, especially since it was coming from him of all people, but you answered, "..Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay."

"Good. Lemme finish paying for all this crap and I'll drop you off at your place."

Leading the way towards the cashier, he placed his large palm over your lower back and kept it there until your goods were paid for, and you were out the door.

Situating yourself on the seats of Toji's car, you couldn't help but feel a smile creep up on you, desperately trying to bite it back. You're wearing his coat.

He put his coat on you.

You think you could die of happiness right now. But, you'll save that for later. That whole fiasco that happened at the store still had your mood all sour. You really didn't want to go home yet. And as Toji began to pull out of the parking lot, you spoke up.

"Toji? I don't really feel like going home yet.."

"Yeah? Aight. We'll stop somewhere, I know a place."

Nodding your head, you mumbled a 'thanks', grateful that he took the hint and didn't try to argue with you or ask any questions. Toji can be empathetic when he wants to be sometimes.

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Apparently, when Toji said he 'knew a place', you didn't expect it to be…this.

"Cinnabon? Really?"

"What? You don't like their cinnamon buns? We can go someplace else if you don't want em.”

You paused. Well, now that you were thinking about it…"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I do like those."

“Besides,” Walking over to the counter to order, Toji got into line, “I remember ya telling me one time that you liked this place."

He still remembers something like that?

You didn’t answer. Instead you followed the nod of Toji’s head telling you to leave the ordering to him and to go find a table to sit at. Looking around, you saw that all the tables were already preoccupied. Damn. Walking back to Toji, you suggested ordering it to go and just finding some place else to sit at like that wooden bench you saw just outside the establishment, which he seemed to favor far more.

Leaving him to his vices, you exited the shop and went to sit outside on the storefront bench, patiently waiting for Toji to get back with your food. Looking around there was still a thin sheet of snow covering some areas of the pavement, most having melted throughout the day or driven over by now. Yet it seemed as though the temperature had no plans of rising as you breathed out a puff of steam, remaining at its crisp, nearly frosty condition. It felt peaceful.

The few minutes of alone time you had to yourself was the most silence your brain has allowed itself to be in within the 24 hours of Tojis reintroduction into your life.

The oversized puffer jacket you still had on made those hours feel shorter by reminding you of just how much "excitement" had managed to happen—you bet you looked silly as hell with it engulfing your frame, but you couldn't find it in you to care about that at this moment. Especially since it was serving its purpose of protecting you against the cold that you found yourself surrounded by as you sat there waiting.

Leaning back against the wood, you felt something hindering you from going all the way. Your teddy bear backpack. You forgot you even had it on as it was hidden underneath the coat Toji had quickly put on you. Yeah, you must've looked really stupid. Fighting back a grimace and ignoring the fact for your own peace of mind, you went to remove the coat. Leaving it piled behind you on the bench as you took off your bag, placing it onto your lap.

Reaching into your bag, you took out your trusty emergency makeup kit. Wouldn't hurt to do a quick touch up… Looking over in the direction of the sudden sound of a bell being rung, you peered over to your left to see that it was just someone stepping foot out the shop with a cup of what looked to be hot chocolate.

'Hopefully Toji get's back soon.'

Focusing back on the task at hand, you clicked open a compact inspecting the state of the way you looked with the mirror. The sight that greeted you brought out a breath of relief. Not a single thing out of place. But just in case, you patted on a little bit of powder for good measure, and reapplied your clear lipgloss so the cold air could struggle to nip at your lips.

After assessing what needed to be assessed, you put your pouch back into your bag and immediately piped up at the sound of the door chiming again. You couldn't help but do a small cheer as you saw that it was finally Toji approaching you, carrying a bag containing your icing drenched cinnamon bun, a hot drink of some sort, and a bottle of water.

Handing you your food and drink, you thanked him and immediately dug in once it was within your grasp. Taking a bite, a bit of steam emitted from the warm and gooey bun melting on your tongue, flooding your taste buds with a mix of sweet and nutty spice. Damn, you were a lot hungrier than you thought. But you suppose that's due to having skipped breakfast in the morning. Stuffing more into your mouth, your eyes met Toji's to see him already sitting beside you and looking down at you, snickering.

"Hwat?" The question came out muffled from your cheeks being stuffed like a squirrel.

He looked off to the side for a second, still snickering before he answered, "Nothin."

Swallowing your food down harshly, you pouted with your brows scrunched together and took notice that you were the only one eating.

"How come you didn't get yourself one?"

He deadpanned. "I don't want diabetes."

"Right…of course not…" Such a Toji answer, you thought.

It felt a little weird to be the only one eating, but he kept refusing everytime you asked if he was absolutely sure he didn’t at least want a bite. It was silent between you two except for the occasional slurp of your drink, and you think Toji noticed it too because suddenly he started conversing with you, catching up a little bit on how the both of you have been.

"So kid, how's the university life been treatin' ya?"

"Hm? Oh uhm, it's been alright I guess." You shrugged, fork still in hand.

"Just alright? Sounds pretty lackluster to me."

"It is." You sighed.

"You tellin' me you don't, what- party? Or done those weird cultist initiations you kids do at sororities."

"Yeah…no. I'm too busy actually studying most of the time. I've been to like 2-ish? parties, but that's about it. And sororities? You couldn't possibly pay me to join one of those.” You’ve heard one too many stories of premature deaths being caused by sororities. You didn’t particularly feel like gambling your chances. Plus, you weren’t really into the whole sisterhood-brotherhood thing, too weird.

As the conversation progressed between your frankly unexciting school life, Toji recalled some neighborhood fiasco that happened while you were away.

"...Then this kid's boyfriend starts beating up the guy that tried to take her purse."

"No way! This really happened in our neighborhood? Where like.. nothing ever happens?" To think that a crime had actually happened in the most safest, suburban of neighborhoods that you lived in for your whole life and you weren't there to witness it.

"I'm tellin' ya it was set up to make himself look good. A robbery in broad daylight? In this neighborhood? Bullshit."

"Why does all the exciting shit always happen when I'm not around?" You whined, sighing out your disappointment.

Closing the box to your nearly finished cinnamon bun and placing it beside you on the bench, you suddenly remembered something.

"By the way! My mom told me you have a son? How come you never mentioned him to me before?"

And just like that, Tojis brows immediately furrowed as if the question was one he hadn't expected to be asked, especially not coming from you. Leaning forward with a grunt, he rested an elbow on his knee, propping a palm under his chin as he proceeded to look at you with the most dramatically bored expression you’ve ever seen on someone's face- one that rivaled even yours.

It screamed, ‘let's get this shit over with.’

"You never asked. Besides, why you askin' about him now?"

You noticed the way his mood instantly changed after mentioning him but...it was probably nothing right?

Regardless, he didn't seem to be exactly… excited at the mention of his son, so you treated lightly with your next words. “Well, my mom is telling me that I should start looking for a good boy to date and she mentioned your son.”

He laughed out in disbelief. “Gumi? That boy? Ha, good luck with that. He wouldn’t know the first thing on how to treat a girl.”

He couldn’t treat you the way I could. Is what he wanted to say.

Awkwardly you answered, “Well… anyway, I don't think he even goes to my Uni…I think. So it wouldn't really be an option.”

Toji stayed silent.

The sudden uncomfortable silence that took over had you overthinking all over again.

What's wrong? Does he have a bad relationship with his son? Is that why he looks irritated? Should I ask? No. He might get more irritated. Shit. Okay, subject change.

Slamming your hands onto your thighs a little too hard in an attempt to calm your nerves, the sound seemed to catch Tojis attention. Snapping him out of whatever trance he was in, and back to his usual demeanor.

You rubbed your arms out of awkwardness. “Sooo, yeah. Sucks, I wasn't there to witness a fraudulent act of chivalry right in my own neighborhood."

Toji was thankful you moved on from the topic of his son, he didn’t want to think of that little squirt right now.

But then it got him wondering…

"You ever had a boyfriend before?"

The question surprised you a little. Okay maybe a lot. You didn't think he'd be even remotely interested in your love life.

"No… I've never had one." While there was no shame in not having had a significant other at your age, still you couldn't help but feel embarrassed admitting it to Toji.

Toji raised a brow in suspicion. "You sure you're staying clear of boys?"

This behavior he was exhibiting was starting to confuse the hell out of you. First he scolds you on your attire this morning, and now he's interrogating you on your love life? He was being way overprotective, almost acting as a parent, and it was seriously beginning to make you feel hopeless.

You nodded. "Yes, Toji. I'm not interested in college guys. They don't know what they're doing,"

That answer seemed to be good enough for Toji, but to both his and your utter surprise you continued, "But I've done other things."

Straightening his back up against the wooden bench in interest, Toji beckoned you to continue on. Truth be told, he didn't want to hear you talking about boys. Just the thought of you with some dumbass little boy made him irrationally bothered. But there was one thing itching at him to ask.

One thing he simply had to know.

"Oh yeah?"

"Just casual stuff. Nothing serious.."

Toji hummed. It was cute how you were beating around the bush about whatever 'things' you've done. He'll humor you this time around.

"We talkin' the 'clothes on' type of stuff?"

"Well…not exactly.."

Your lack of elaboration following your answer made Toji egg you on further.

"Don't start gettin' all shy on me now. Let me take a guess, this has somethin' to do with how you mentioned that college boy's don't know what they're doing, yeah?

And like clockwork, the words proceeded to flow past the tip of your tongue without a second thought.

"Remember how I also mentioned earlier that I've gone to only a few parties? Well at one of those parties, I got left alone by my friends in favor of hooking up with some guys they thought were hot."

"Sounds like some shitty friends."

You grunted. "Tell me about it. Anyways, here I am, sitting alone on this couch that's thankfully only mildly sticky from whatever wasted student had spilled their drink on top of it, and this guy sits right next to me. We talk, things happen, and we find an empty room."

Toji hums, signaling to you that he's still listening.

Immediately, irritation is apparent on your face by the way your eyes narrow as you recall the memory. "He puts his hands in my pants and this dumbass can't for the life of him find where my clit is and is just rubbing around. Then he has the nerve to ask if I came yet!? Bitch I'm not even moaning!"

Toji nods, intently listening to your rant. Biting back his amusement at your outburst.

"And the same fuckin thing happens again except with a different guy I had been seeing for less than a week. Except—get this, he asks me what a clit is. Like are you for real!?"

Taking a deep breath, you tried channeling your nerves. "So that's that. College boy's don't know where the clit is—hell, they don't even know of its existence."

Slumping your shoulders, you kicked at the tiny stones on the cement with your shoe.

"It's why I've never gone further than that."

If you were being honest, even if those guys did know their way around a woman's body, you don't think you could find it within yourself to stick around for it. You already knew what your mind was banging against your skull to say. Deep down, somewhere in the backrooms of your brain, you know it's because of Toji. It's always been him; the man you're still holding out for. Hoping he'd be the one to take your virginity.

Whatever. It was a pipe dream anyway. And you definitely weren't going to tell him that.

Speaking of telling him…

‘Why did you tell him all that!? Why did you have to run your mouth!!’

You stammered out an apology. The gravity of what you just up and confessed dawned on you, leaving you a cringing mess from within.

"I-I'm sorry…I don't even know why im telling you all this-"

Toji is quick to dismiss the apology. Truth be told, he was delighted to hear that you were still a virgin.

“Don't worry bout it’. It's nothing to be embarrassed of.

“I mean yeah…but still…”

Turning to face you, Toji placed his hand gingerly upon your thigh, giving it a light squeeze in what you assumed to be an attempt at reassurance or maybe it was comfort? You couldn't really tell, you just knew that the warmth of it felt nice.

“Listen, if I’m tellin’ you that being a virgin is nothin’ to be ashamed of, then its not. Look at it this way, you ain’t a teen mom, something not many can say nowadays.” He shrugged.

He kind of had a point. Though his comforting skills were kind of ass.

“Yeah..okay. Thanks for listening then.”

“No problem.”

You thought after your little rant the atmosphere would return to its awkward state as it seems that's how it had been every time you spoke with Toji—yet oddly enough, it felt like you had somehow managed to get closer to him by opening up about your struggles.

Suddenly feeling a spout of hunger befall you once more, you took the last remaining bite of your cinnamon bun, slowly licking off the icing that had gotten smeared onto your lips.

Toji eyed the action intently, internally shaking a head at himself.

‘This little minx..’ but before you could make eye contact he abruptly withdrew his hand, fishing a phone out his pocket and checking the time. Huh, you hadn't even noticed his hand had still been on you.

“It's already almost 4, think it's time to call it a day.”

With a sound of surprise, you rose up from your seat, closing the box once more as you watched Toji stand up from his own spot, already patting on his pockets for the car keys.

You hadn't even noticed that much time had gone by.

“Thanks again for the cinnamon buns and of course, for listening.”

Toji only hummed in acknowledgement.

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

The ride home was spent surrounded by the sounds of muffled radio chatter, ever so slightly noticeable with the engine of the truck at a constant thrum. The sun surprisingly hadn't gone down yet as it typically would have on any other winter day and you made sure to thank your lucky stars for those few more minutes of sunlight.

On the other hand, you couldn't help but feel sad. You didn't want the day to end yet, especially not when progress had been made between the two of you. Then it hit you, progress had been made. While you didn't actually confront him about what had transpired on that faithless day, it was still worth celebrating.

Baby steps are still steps after all.

And the more you thought about it, it began to occur to you that today…today kinda felt like a date. In a messed up sense. To others this would've been a failure of a day, but to you? You were elated.

‘Maybe now's my chance to talk to him about what happened back then.’

Sitting up just a little bit straighter in your seat, you turned your head to face Toji, contemplating on the right words to say to him. Just when you were on the verge of starting your sentence, Toji’s phone suddenly began to ring, vibrating atop the center console.

Without bothering to check who was calling him, Toji answered the phone, putting it on speaker. Nothing to be worried about anyway, probably some scammer giving Toji his routine call.

“Yo, what’s up?”

Without a second to waste, a feminine voice practically cried from the other end.

“Tojiiii, baby it’s been so long, when are you coming over?? You know I miss you-”

Before this unknown lady could hope to finish her sentence, she was abruptly hung up on–courtesy of Tojis hand flying to take the call off speaker, fumbling for a good second only to ultimately end the call for good measure.

Clearing his throat, Toji continued to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead. Can't be having you both end up in a car crash right?

“Sorry about that, that was… just one of my old close friends.”

“Uh huh. Ya’ll must've been real close.”

Toji ignored the snark.

“Anyways, go ahead, what were you saying?”

“I…wasn’t saying anything.”

Thankfully the call was received just minutes short of arriving at your home. Pulling into the driveway, the truck on neutral, you waited a few seconds to see if Toji would say anything more. He didn’t.

Holding back a shaky sigh, you unbuckle your seatbelt and exited the vehicle, opening the passenger side to pick up the bags of decor that you went to buy in the first place.

“Wait, let me help ya out-” Toji last minutely interjected as he turned his body over in his seat to face you.

“No need. I already got it.” Picking up the last bag (thankfully they weren’t very heavy), you slammed the passenger door shut. You contemplated giving Toji a proper farewell bidding but with the way you were feeling right now? You didn’t want him to see the ache painted in your eyes. Instead, you continued walking down the shoveled path and up the steps to your house, fishing the keys out from your keychain and unlocking the door, closing it behind you.

Kicking your shoes off and slipping some slippers onto your feet, you laid the bags over the kitchen counter letting whoever discovered them first deal with the contents inside as you made your way up the stairs to your room, plopping onto your bed face first.

You nearly teared up at your own naivety.

Holy shit. ‘I’m so stupid.’ Was all you could think of as the booty call Toji had received replayed in your mind. This wasn’t any new information on Toji that you hadn’t already known about yet it hurt so bad.

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On the other hand, Toji couldn’t help but feel the same way. When he saw you safely get back into your home, he shifted gears to reverse, pulling out the driveway and driving back to his own place.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he pulled out his phone from the cup holder it fell into amidst his struggle to end the call earlier and proceeded to call them back.

One ring was all it took for them to answer, and one second was all it took for Toji to cut them off before they could say anything more.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me again, understand? Good. Now, fuck off.” Hanging up before she could respond or attempt to call back like an idiot, he blocked her.

Letting out a rather loud groan of irritation, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands in indignation, letting his head fall as he could feel a headache coming on.

“Fuck.”

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Laying on your bed disappointed, you curled up thinking about the events that transpired earlier. The whole trip felt like an actual date—up until that call anyway. It was probably the worst way the day could have ended. Your bad luck was unimaginable.

“I need to find myself a four leaf clover or something at this point…”

Honestly, you didn't want to get out of bed. You wanted to lay down and wilt like a flower that never gets any sunlight. Stuffing your face into your arm, it occured to you that you were still wearing Toji’s jacket.

“Maybe I should stop trying to go after someone who’ll never like me back…” You mumbled to yourself, sitting up and throwing the coat towards the nearest chair it could land on.

Were you really this delusional? You saw the way he was looking at you—you shook your head, trying not to overthink it.

‘I guess I had the wrong idea.’

Feeling defeated, you knew if you wanted to continue moping about this, you’d have to do it after a shower; lest you end up skipping your skincare routine leaving you with another thing to sulk about.

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

You couldn’t sleep.

Restless, you tossed and turned trying to find that sweet spot that would have you suddenly waking up to the birds singing. Come the fuck on..! I just want to sleep, dammit!

Grunting, it seemed no matter where you tried to place yourself within the comfort of your sheets and plethora of pillows engulfing you, you just couldn’t seem to knock yourself out.

Only one option left.

Slipping a hand underneath the blanket, you let your fingers wander across your skin. Giving each of your tits a soft squeeze under your shirt as you slowly began to relax, sighing in content at a teasing roll of your bud, slowly hardening at your touch.

Growing tired of the teasing and beginning to feel heavy with need, you ran a finger down your panties, keeping it firmly pressed against your slit as you slowly raised your hips up and down in tandem with your middle finger, rubbing yourself over the cotton material. You could feel yourself getting hotter, wetter. A small, sticky patch of your own arousal seeping through the garment as you finally had enough, moving your panties to the side and making contact with your sickened clit. You wasted no time in parting your lips with your pinky and index, and letting both your middle and ring finger draw tight circles over your bundle of nerves. Immediately settling into a steady rhythm that was sure to have you quickly coming undone.

As your breathing picked up, so did the small whimpers escaping through your lips. You tried your best to stay as quiet as possible, but fuck was it hard when all you wanted to do was mewl out a certain someones name, imagining it was him playing with your pussy like this.

Toji.

Even just sounding his name out in your head had you bucking your hips against the friction you were creating. His large, warm hand stuffed down your panties, and cupping your pussy from behind while rubbing at the entire expanse of your puffy cunt messily. Fast. Drenching his palm in your juices. Wondering what it'd feel like to have his long, fat fingers plunge into you as your own currently probes at your clenching hole, dipping in slightly only to take it back out. It didn't feel—wouldn't feel nearly as good unless it were his.

You felt so close. Your fingers were starting to ache as you exerted them, moving it against your swollen clit quicker than before. It started to hurt, but the feeling of adrenaline rushing through you to finish made your brain block it out, replacing it with the endorphins of white hot pleasure that you anticipated to burst at any minute now.

You clamped your legs around your hand, curling into your side like a ball. You wanted to stop, it was too much. But you were so fucking close. Your shaky whines were no longer being held back, eyes squeezed shut and the side of your face pressed against your pillow muffling it as best you could to prevent it from being heard outside.

Just a little more…

Come on come on come on..! Your hand wouldn't stop unless your body reached its peak, only increasing in its pace. Holding your breath, the sound of your palpating heart was deafening as you continued letting out harsh pants.

You felt the familiar feeling of your lower abdomen tightening, coiling up and finally bursting like a dam. Your toes curled up as you threw your head back further into the pillow, unable to stop the sudden cry of Toji’s name that accidentally slipped out from your parched mouth at the pressure of your orgasm rushing over you like a tidal wave.

Before you could bask in your post orgasmic bliss, Toji bursts through your door. The fucking man himself. In the flesh..?

In a panic, you pull your stiff hand away from between your legs as if it were scalding hot oil, grasping the blanket up towards your chin to cover what you’d just been essentially caught doing.

“Heard you screamin’ my name out, sweetheart.”

You’d think any normal reaction to being intruded on by the person you were just fantasizing about would be to first ask some questions—yet there you laid calm as a cucumber, watching as he inched closer to you.

Toji smirked. “Don’t start gettin’ all shy on me now. Let me hear you scream my name again for me.”

You don’t know how he got to you so quickly but Toji was already slipping his hand under the covers towards your pussy, finding it slick and sticky from your high, smearing it all over as he ran his fingers up and down your sensitive slit.

Retracting his hand back from underneath, he relished in the way your arousal stuck to his fingers like a spider's web as he spread them out, glistening against the soft lighting of your suddenly oddly hazy looking room.

Fueled with newfound urgency, Toji threw the covers off of you, yanking your body up to stand on the floor as you both made your way towards your vanity, back hitting the edge of it as you steadied yourself against Toji's chest. It was all moving too quickly. Too fast. Before you could stop to process your surroundings properly, Toji’s large hand hastily groped your tits as his other fingers that were touching on your pussy earlier prodded at your mouth to open. Without a word, you wrapped your lips around them like a good girl, sucking—tasting yourself before he removed them in order to turn you around.

Just then, you realized you both were naked as Toji lifted one of your legs up onto the vanity, dragging his wet fingers over his cock as he moved to align it with your dripping hole. You couldn't form a thought. As if on autopilot. Only the unbridled, desperate need to have Toji in you remained.

No. Scratch that. You felt your own thoughts before you could form them, as if it weren’t your own. It definitely was though. You don’t think anyone could too how fucking badly you wanted this man. Now he was finally about to fuck you? You may as well have been the luckiest woman on planet earth.

And as you begin to feel the sensation of Toji's cock about to enter you—confirming that notion, the door to your room bursts open again.

Wait.

“Wake up.”

What?

“Wake up!”

Is that my fucking cat talking!?

“WAKE UP!”

Groggily opening your eyes, you're met with early winter sun seeping through your thin curtains, casting a hazy glow into your room. You hear birds singing.

“What the hell was that…” Stretching the sleep out of your limbs, you noticed your hand was still situated inside your panties.

You closed your eyes, trying to recall your dream. “So half of that was real?” Well, up until Toji bursted into your room, you suppose. And when your cat spoke up telling you to wake the fuck up.

Ugh.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, leaning over the bedside to pull your diary sitting on your nightstand towards your lap. You had to write this shit down.

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After jotting down as much as you could recall from the dream without mixing it up with what you were actually getting up to in real life, you left the diary on the same vanity dream version Toji almost dicked you down on.

Throughout the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Toji. Hell, your feelings for him increased tenfold just from that measly dream alone. You don't know if it's solely your dreams doing that made you feel like you suddenly had a genuine chance with him but fuck it.

You thought about the events of yesterday and recalled when he grasped your thigh. That couldn’t have just been nothing right? The way he eyed your lips too as you licked icing off them. He didn't think you noticed, but you did. Of course you did. It was on purpose after all.

And the icing on the cake? When you brought up his son, Megumi. You didn't want to assume anything but you could've sworn you sensed jealousy swimming in those green eyes of his. How ironic.

Shit, maybe you do have a chance with Toji after all. All he needs is a little push.

With all the evidence stacked up in your favor, you knew you had to devise a plan.

A plan on how to seduce your neighbor.

You giggled to yourself.

“Mama chose a thought daughter.”

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yelenasbraid · 8 months ago

Text

slip of the finger — joe burrow

summary — you and joe are recently married, and he swears he’s never taking off his wedding band. that sentiment stays until he loses it on the field during a game.

warnings — fem!reader, fluff, some suggestive comments, implied smut

requested by — anon <3

BEING NEWLYWEDS WAS EXCITING. the bliss, the laughs, and the memories that were wrapped up in a beautiful bow. beginning a new chapter with the man you loved was such a privilege, and one you couldn’t wait to live to the fullest.

you and joe laid in bed, the soft duvet covering your bodies as your hands were held up in front of you. it was so surreal to you that you married your college sweetheart, that you were married. you watched the diamond sparkled underneath the warm lighting, how joe’s ring perfectly accented yours on his finger.

“i can’t believe we’re married,” you whispered, watching joe grab your hand and press it to his lips.

“i can,” he hummed, shifting onto his side, “i’ve always wanted to marry you,” he added, a lovesick look in his eyes. he admired you, the way your skin glowed in the warm lighting, the way your eyes sparkled with the love you had for him.

his words sent warmth down to your toes, your mouth pulling into a smile. you shifted onto your side, keeping the cover over your naked body. being married had many perks, including enjoying your husband. his hand reached forwards, caressing your cheek. he was so in love with you, with every part of you. his eyes flicked over your face and your exposed collarbone. he could see the marks he made just a few moments ago.

joe leaned over, his hand sliding across your skin to cup the back of your neck. he pressed his lips softly to yours, rolling so he was on top of you. your hands looped around his neck as his lips met yours. you smiled into the kiss, your cheeks rosy and warm. joe pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, his hair tickling your skin.

“i love you,” he hummed, kissing you softly again.

“i love you,” you agreed into the kiss. he hummed, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. he pulled away and sat up, running his hands down his face. while he always enjoyed moments like this and he wished he could stay like that forever, he couldn’t. it was game day.

“what time do you need to leave?” you asked him as he got out of bed. he slipped on his boxers as he disappeared into your walk in closet. it was an away game, so joe needed to be at the airport a whole day before the game. you wished it was different, but you’ve lived and loved this life for several years. you were used to it.

“in like,” there was a pause, “15 minutes,” he finished as he gathered his game day outfit. he tossed a shirt over his head and tugged black cargo pants over his hips.

“we really passed the time, huh?” you laughed, pushing your hair out of your face. you watched joe emerge from his closet, dressed in something comfy yet stylish for his flight.

“we did, didn’t we?” he smirked as he walked over, kissing you sweetly on the lips. you smiled, stretching your taut limbs under the duvet. you saw the wedding band on his finger, snug as could be.

“please don’t wear that on the field,” you begged, watching as he packed a bag.

“i won’t lose it, i’ll keep it safe,” joe assured you, zipping up his bag.

“you better, can’t have someone thinking you’re not married,” you commented, watching him smirk and scoff.

“with those marks i just gave you, i don’t think that’s possible,” he flirted, grabbing his bag and giving you a look. damn you, joe burrow.

“uh huh, ok player,” you joked as he kissed you again. he always hated leaving you; marriage hasn’t made it any easier. in fact, it’s made it ten times harder.

“i love you,” he called as he exited the bedroom.

“i love you! be safe!” you reminded him. you weren’t able to make it to the game, but you’d watch. you always watched.

—

it was finally game day, and you were curled up on your couch. you invited robin and jim over, as well as some of the other WAGs to watch the game. charcuterie boards were on the coffee table, half eaten as the game closed out the third quarter.

the bengals were up, and watching joe’s expression loose and relaxed kept you in good spirits. you hated watching tight games; you could see the stress lines on his face. you stood up, walking into the kitchen with an empty wine glass. you unscrewed the cap of the bottle, pouring out the red liquid into your cup.

“what happened to his finger?” robin asked, diverting your attention from your glass to the screen. you watched as joe showed ja’marr his ring finger, his left ring finger.

without the ring.

“joseph lee burrow,” you tsked, shaking your head and pursing your lips. what did you tell him a couple of days ago? you walked back over, taking a seat back on the couch, careful not to slosh your wine too much. robin looked over at you, a grin blossoming on her face.

“you told him to take it off, didn’t you,” robin stated. she knew you asked him to, but robin also knew another thing: joe hated taking it off. he loved showing people he was married, and that he was married to you. it wasn’t just a ring to him, it was a symbol of commitment and undying love.

“i did,” you confirmed, not being able to hold back a laugh as you sipped your wine. you knew he was stressed, you could see it on his face. everyone could see it. joe was frantically moving his hands, gesturing on the field where he thinks he lost it.

“she told me to take it off,” joe told ja’marr, running his hands through his hair. the two of them were walking the field, trying to see if the sun would reflect just right and reveal joe’s lost ring.

“and this is why we listen to our wives,” ja’marr clapped him on the shoulder, earning a scowl from joe. it didn’t last long though.

“she’s probably watching the game right now, and i’m gonna be in big trouble when i get home,” joe’s eyes scanned the field, flicking up every now and then to check how much time was left on the timeout clock. he didn’t have that much time.

“maybe she got up and got a snack,” andrei stepped beside them, offering his two cents.

“nah, she wouldn’t. she’s got her snacks right there with her. i bet she saw the whole thing,” ja’marr laughed, causing joe’s cheeks to turn pink. they didn’t have much more time before the next and final quarter was to start.

“burrow!” trey hendrickson came running over, holding the illusive gold band that would be joe’s wedding ring.

“oh thank God,” joe exhaled as he grabbed the ring from trey, “she would’ve not been happy,” joe chuckled. he handed it to one of the staffers, not risking it. he couldn’t lose it a second time.

“get a silicone one,” trey suggested, “those suckers don’t ever come off,”

“noted,” joe chuckled.

—

joe walked into the presser, wearing a t-shirt and his seinfeld sweats. he sat down, his wedding ring adorning his finger. he situated himself, preparing for all the questions about the fiasco on the field.

“find your ring?” one of the reporters asked, making joe awkwardly chuckle.

“yeah, yeah i did. thankfully,” he answered.

“did your wife see it?” another reporter asked.

“knowing her, probably. i’m not that lucky,” he joked. he nervously spun the ring around his finger, answering the other questions of the reporters. he couldn’t wait to make it home to you, settling in to your arms and hearing you tease him about losing his ring.

the press conference ended, and joe joined up with the other members of his team. as he did so, his phone vibrated in his pocket. he pulled out his phone, smiling as he answered the call.

“i know i know, i should have listened to you,” he smiled, walking a ways from the boys.

“it was kinda funny,” you admitted on the other end of the phone.

“how so?”

“seeing you scramble for your ring was entertaining,” you added. he could hear the smile on your words. he laughed, shaking his head.

“i bet it was,” he agreed.

“i ordered you a silicone one, so maybe this time you don’t lose it,” you teased.

“you didn’t have to do that,”

“what can i say, it’s a small treat for winning your game today,” you smiled, picking up the remnants of the small gathering you had. the girls and joe’s parents left a few minutes ago, leaving you alone in the house. it was nice, but you also wanted joe to hurry on back.

“you know what would also be a nice little treat?” he asked you, giving a glance around to make sure no one was listening.

“what?”

“that lingerie set you have, and you in it,” he suggested in a low voice, which he did for privacy purposes, but on your end it just turned you on.

“oh really now?”

“i think it’s the perfect little treat,” he smirked.

“i bet you do,” you laughed. you put the final things away before padding upstairs. “you said the black one, right?”

“you have multiple?”

“oh sweet joey,” you mused, opening one of your dresser drawers, “a girl always has multiple sets of lingerie,” it was your turn for your voice to go deep, driving joe wild.

there was a beat of silence on the other end of the phone.

“pick your favorite, but just so you know, i’m seeing you in all of them this week,” he warned you. you were still caught up on the fact he didn’t know about your multiple sets.

“one a night, huh?”

“you said it, not me,”

“whatever, burrow. just get home,” you laughed, pulling out a red lingerie set, “and do not lose your ring between there and home please,”

“i won’t! i promise,” he hummed. you bid your farewells, hanging up the phone. joe stood there for a minute, letting himself calm down. he didn’t know how long it would last; the thought of you surprising him in an unseen lingerie set was not boding well for him. he didn’t want to have a boner the whole flight home.

you, on the other hand, slipped out of your comfy clothes and readied for a shower. the thought of surprising joe in your lingerie set excited you, and you couldn’t wait for joe to get home, to remind him exactly why he’s got that wedding ring on his finger.

eeekk!!! this took me way longer than i liked but it’s cute!! newlywed joey is an absolute cutie. hope you enjoyed anon and so sorry for the delay!

tags: @wickedfun9 @joeyfranchise

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #the bengals #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

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bcksbarnes · 2 months ago

Text

traces of a lonely world

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky's job takes him away from you more that he cares to admit. most of the times you can understand, but there are some nights it tears you apart.

word count: 3.2K

read the: next chapter

cw: 🔞 some suggestive content (mdni), general angst and verbal argument

a/n: needed to get out some angst in my life and focused it right here!! hope you all enjoy

There’s no training manual on dating an ex-assassin turned hero.

No one told you all the things you would sacrifice with being with someone so important to the world. No one warned you that as hard as it was for him to be away from you, it was harder for you to make sure he didn’t become a headline on the news. Another hero gone.

Even with that in mind there was something that was even harder for you to swallow.

The missed moments.

You understood that his job took him away from you. It meant he would miss a birthday or an anniversary, but it never made it any easier. Opening gifts alone, or blowing out the candles on the cake to a crowd of one because someone tried to wreck chaos on the world again.

Unfortunately, Bucky’s job was never ending.

Dinner reservations were often spent asking the waitress for 5 more minutes, then 15, then eating by yourself until you received an I’m so sorry kiss on the forehead later that night when he finally snuck into the bedroom.

You always wanted to be mad at Bucky in those moments, to tell him how unfair it was that you had to share him with the world. But, you would hear him groan as he took his shirt off, or you’d see the blood against his cheek and it made you feel so selfish. He was risking it all for a safer world. How could you complain?

You always tried to force yourself to sleep before he came home, not wanting him to think that you waited around for him, that you were counting down the seconds. Even when your eyes were closed, you were awake. You were always awake.

You would be until you heard his boots against the floorboards. The signal he was home.

And he was safe.

Those were the toughest few moments in your relationship, pulled by the want to forgive him and the need to be angry.

How could you be mad at someone who is just trying his best?

Bucky wasn’t oblivious to your feelings either, and his own guilt gnawed away at him more nights than not. He had a knack for swallowing it though, if it festered too long in his chest then he felt worse. Maybe if he ignored it then it’d get better.

He’d try harder.

He couldn’t face it.

Bucky would always attempt to make it up to you. Getting up early to make your favorite breakfast – chocolate chip pancakes with a dash of cinnamon in the batter – or cuddling a bit closer at night to remind you he was right there.

Even when he couldn’t be.

Sometimes, if you were both awake enough when he got home, he’d climb into bed on top of you. The mattress would sink under his weight and neither of you needed to speak to communicate what was needed.

His strong hands would run down the front of your shirt, lifting it up as he dipped under the covers, peppering his soft lips against your stomach.

You shivered every time.

His body would be on the colder side, sometimes even in the heat of July, a stark contrast of your own under the warm blankets.

“You smell nice,” he’d whisper, nuzzling his nose into your abdomen. His senses were flooded with the smell of you - a mix of vanilla and honey. “I must be a crazy man for leaving you.”

It was his way of acknowledging what he couldn’t admit.

He’d kiss his way down until he’s hovering right over the waistband of your shorts, your hand immediately tangling in his messy dark locks. The way he’d whisper your name like a man praying for forgiveness while his calloused hands ran down your sides made your heart flutter.

He’d slide your shorts down, his eyes never leaving you as he …

Well, those were apologies for a different time.

Neither of you brought up these feelings, and while you had no doubt he was sorry it was impossible to know if those words were just a placeholder.

You tried not to reflect back on the events he missed, because each time you did, you could see the outline of where he should be.

The weight of the emptiness sat on your chest, ready to suffocate you.

He’ll be there, you thought to yourself as you walked quickly, arms crossed over your chest and head down towards the restaurant you were going to meet Bucky at.

He had picked it out weeks ago when he heard about your job promotion. It had taken you three years of work under a boss who had become increasingly harder to please each and every year. There were many late nights spent on budget sheets and early mornings fueled by multiple cups of coffee that got you to this moment.

Now it was time to celebrate.

Bucky was so proud when he heard the news. You called him the second you left your bosses office, the smile on your face spread so wide it made your cheeks hurt. You sat at your desk while you clutched your phone tightly. The weight of what you had accomplished lifting off your shoulders.

“I’m so proud of you,” his voice was soft through the speaker. A man in the middle of his own work trying his best to still cheer you on. “I knew you’d get it.”

Of course he did, because as hard of a worker as he was - you did twice as much. All while carrying both of your personal lives on your back.

Bucky would say you were the true hero.

“Thank you,” you said to the host once you were seated at the table.

The lights in the restaurant were low, a tea candle sitting in the middle of the small table. An intimate setting for the two of you to finally relax and celebrate. A night where laughs could turn into soft whispers, and whispers into breathless gasps.

It was a night for you, but selflessly it was for the both of you.

Your leg shook under the table as you browsed the menu, the seat across the table noticeable empty. You hated this feeling of uneasiness that came with waiting for him because at the end of the day it wasn’t about trust - you trusted Bucky more than anyone in this world.

No, this was about the line in the sand. Loving him and knowing he needed to be there to save the world.

Guilt and awareness. Two things that needed to exist at the same time, but were so hard to balance. It was a double-edged sword and you were losing either way.

It was fine the first time the waitress came over to ask if you were waiting on someone.

Maybe a little more hurtful when twenty minutes had passed and you checked your phone for any text or call, but found nothing.

Definitely upsetting when you finally had to order your meal alone.

And downright heartbreaking when you finished eating and the wait staff brought out a pity free dessert.

Bucky didn’t come.

And worst of all? He didn’t even care to let you know.

Anger and sadness draped over you like a thin veil as you made your way back to the apartment. It festered deep in your gut, clamoring its way out.

How could he not come? How could he not tell you?

The tears didn’t start when you got home.

Or when you got changed out of your clothes into something more comfortable.

Not even when you realized how late it was.

There were no tears to cry, no matter how much your throat constricted and the feeling in your chest rose. They weren’t here. Not yet.

You were torn between going to bed for the night and staying up to wait for him. Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to rest anyway is what persuaded you to stay awake, though it was not done favorably.

You kept checking your phone as you sat on the couch, waiting to hear from somebody - anybody . Despite it all, there was still a deep rooted worry that flowed through you that he was hurt, or … you didn’t want to think about that.

Not right now.

Not yet.

You heard the jangling of keys outside the door. A sound that sent a shock right through your system and into your stomach. First relief, then anger. The sudden wave of it hitting you like you were tossed into the ocean and forced to swim ashore.

Bucky entered the apartment in one swift motion, his boots were heavy with exhaustion as he dragged them across the floor taking a step inside. His head was bowed, the long dark locks covering his face as he leaned down to unlace his shoes.

You could see from where you’re sitting the sweat beads that ran down his arm. The scuff marks against his metal one. Some minor bruising and cuts - but overall, he’s still in one piece.

When he finally kicks off his shoes and stands, he jolts suddenly at seeing you on the couch. He wasn’t expecting you to still be awake; let alone waiting for him.

“Hey,” Bucky says, his eyebrow raised as he runs a hand through his hair. “What are you still doing up?”

The question hits you like an arrow straight to the chest. His casual tone causes you to blink a few times as you stand from the couch, your arms crossing over your chest. The sign of someone ready to rumble.

“I’ve been waiting for you”.

Your tone is a bit sharper than you wanted it to be, but it’s hard to stop yourself.

Bucky’s taken aback by your inflection as he steps further into the apartment until he’s standing on the other side of the living room. He was only a few feet in front of you but he might as well have been another world away.

“You never wait for me to get home when it’s this late,” he says, carefully tiptoeing his way into the conversation. His eyes briefly shifting over to the clock that hung on the wall to confirm what time it was. “Is everything okay?”

“Does your phone not work all of a sudden?” you ask, another quick jab. “You were supposed to be at dinner 4 hours ago, Bucky.”

There’s a look of confusion on his face. One that clearly showed that he was unsure of what you were referring to.

“Dinner? What dinner?”

“The dinner we were supposed to have tonight,” you explain, trying to throw him a life line.

Bucky purses his lips as he tries to remember, his body was aching and his head was pounding from the fight he just endured. Whatever plans the two of you might have had were long gone from his memory at that moment. So, he waits for you to continue.

“For my promotion, Bucky. The one you made reservations for weeks ago,” you try to keep yourself level headed, but the break in your voice slips its way out.

Bucky’s face drops when the words hit his ears, his hand coming up to rub his forehead in a way that screams oh fuck .

You blink back the tears that start to form because there is still no way you are crying right now. No, he didn’t deserve those tears yet. He breathes out your name as he takes a step closer but you hold out your hand and take a step back from him.

It was instinctive, your body was protecting you.

“I forgot that was tonight,” he says, his words rushed as he tries to explain. “Sam called this morning about a threat we needed to investigate. I didn’t even - … fuck.”

“Bucky, you missed my birthday. You missed our anniversary. Now this .”

“Shit,” he mumbles to himself as his metal fist knocks softly on the wall of the entryway out of frustration. “I fucked up. I’m sorry, I didn’t even - .”

“You say that every time! You say it like it’s going to erase that you weren’t there,” you snap. Anger was filling up in your veins, close to overflowing.

“I don’t think it’s going to erase anything. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His own guilt is gnawing at him, the weight of what he had done was simmering under the surface. He hated himself enough as it was, hurting you was just another reason to add to the never ending list.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth. I’m saying that there’s only so many times I can hear that same apology without losing my damn mind!”

“I’m trying my best, okay?” he says, voice dripping with agitation. Neither of you were shouting, no good would come out of raised voices. “I can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Except you’re never here!”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Bucky snaps. “Sam needed me.”

“ I needed you, Bucky!”

Bucky thinks getting shot in the chest would have hurt less than hearing you say that.

It felt like an explosion had gone off, the air sucked right of the room. You and Bucky rarely fought, this was uncharted territory, and it seemed the landscape was filled with bombs ready to explode.

Bucky stares at you for a moment, his hands resting on his hips as he blinks slowly. What was he supposed to say? You weren’t wrong. He was in the middle of a rope being pulled in all directions.

“You think I don’t know that?” he says. Despite his voice raising, he still wasn’t shouting. “You think every morning when I roll out of bed I don’t think about how much it hurts to leave? How it kills me to come home at night knowing that my whole world is in bed and that I can’t be there?”

“No, I don’t think that,” you retort. “But, every time Sam or Steve or someone calls it’s like your world is narrowed down and that’s all you see. Tunnel vision.”

“Because it’s my job! I can’t think about it. I have to just go. People get hurt if I don’t.”

The room suddenly felt smaller, like the off white walls were going to close in on themselves. There had been so many happy moments right where you both were standing, memories that you would spend your lonely nights remembering - but right now they were just a crushing reminder of all that you were losing each time he left.

“What about us, huh?” You ask, voice quivering once more. “What about me? No call, no text, not even a damn note on the kitchen table before you leave. Nothing! I have to sit around and wait for you over and over again.”

Bucky’s knees felt like they were buckling under the weight of the pressure. Of course he wanted to be there for you, but he had duties - obligations.

“I never said this was going to be easy,” he fought back. “You knew what you were getting into.”

“So, this is my fault? I should just move on because it’s what I ‘signed up for’?”

“ Yes … I mean - …” Bucky throws his head back and lets out a groan of frustration. “No! God dammit. I don’t want to fight about this.”

“You never want to talk about it! I can’t keep brushing this under the rug! I’m sick and tired of sleeping alone at night, of my friends asking me where you are and I don’t have a good enough answer. Or wondering if you’ll care enough to try to be there.”

“That’s not fair,” he responds right as you finish speaking, taking a step closer again. This time you don’t move back. “I care about you. I love you.”

The tears finally fall as you stand your ground, your hands that are now by your side and shaking. Love was such a funny word to use at this moment. Not because there was humor behind it, but because love to you and Bucky seemed to mean much different things.

He wanted to reach out to you, he wanted to sweep you in his arms and kiss the top of your head and tell you all the ways he loved you. That he’d hang the moon and the stars if it meant seeing you happy. But he couldn’t, he was frozen in place.

“Bucky …” you shake your head as your voice cuts off.

You take a moment to collect yourself, wiping your tears and staring up at the ceiling as your chest tightens. This seemed to be falling apart. Your life, the relationship, all of it.

Bucky’s eyes never leave your face as he watches you try and calm yourself down. He sees the way your body trembles as you’re still trying to hold back, the way your chest rapidly is rising and falling as you try to catch your breath.

He’s had enough.

There’s not a thought in his mind as he crosses the room until he reaches you, pulling you firmly against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you.

You can’t bring yourself to pull away from him, your face buried as the hot tears stream down your cheeks, the sobs you’ve tried to control breaking free. More importantly, you can’t bring yourself to wrap your own arms around him, even as his hand glides soothingly side to side against your back.

It felt like your world was crashing around you. There was no way to stop it.

His nose presses into the top of your head. Your scent filling his nostrils as the only way he could ground himself. It hits him all at once that he had been turning into the man he never wished to be. The one with hollow apologies and excuses. The one who let the person he loved most in this world down with no better reason other than I had to .

Picking your head up from his chest, you pull back enough so that the two of you are face to face again. Bucky moves to cup your cheek but your hand grabs his wrist before he can, his heart stuck in his throat as you stop him

“I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep … waiting around,” you finally manage to say, your eyes meeting his gaze.

Bucky knows there’s no use in trying to persuade you differently - not because he doesn’t want to fight for you, but because his words mean nothing right now. He made promises he couldn’t keep. Told you he’d show up and he wouldn’t. How was saying this time will be different, it’ll be better going to mean anything to you now?

He wasn’t an idiot. A jerk, maybe, but not an idiot.

His arms drop from your back down to his side, standing a bit straighter and lifting his head a little higher. Bucky was doing all that he could to not completely collapse in this moment. He ignored the ringing in his ears. The way the room shifted. How absolutely ethereal you looked even with puffy and red eyes.

You open your mouth to speak again and Bucky holds his hand up, shaking his head softly.

You didn’t need to say the words for him to know this was the end.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #james barnes angst #mine #one shot #100 #200 #500

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pboogerswbb · 2 months ago

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SO IT GOES - chapter 15

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual language and SMUT VERY FILTHY STRAP TOO OKAY BEWARNED Wordcount: 6,6K A/C: yeah so... we're back. this is so filthy. ALSO I DIDN'T PROOFREAD THIS. i love y'all go enjoy this you freaks

Before London

“Are you sure it’s okay I come?” I ask, smoothing over the all black dress, the satin feeling smooth underneath my fingertips. I watch in the reflection of the mirror as Paige fixes her loose curls over my shoulder. “Did you even ask Stewie?”

“Baby you’re my girlfriend. It’s fine,” she replies absentmindedly, lifting the white collar of her shirt to place the black tie around it. Girlfriend. The term still gave me goosebumps all over. That’s who I was. Paige Bueckers’ girlfriend. I had promised myself I wouldn’t be anyone’s girlfriend for a long time. But in the three weeks I had agreed to be one I had found it not to be as scary as my memory had tried to convince me. Nothing had changed really, we were still us. Still had to keep it a secret.

“Does she know?” I ask, pinning the loose strands of my bun down. Paige chews on her bottom lip, trying to do her tie, long fingers fumbling with it.

“Yeah, she said she’s gonna bring Marta,” the blonde says, having to undo her tie. “Don’t worry, she won’t say nothin’.”

“If you say so,” I sigh, cringing as I watch Paige struggle. “Oh dear heavens, let me.”

I turn and slap the girl’s hands off the tie. I could do it in seconds, but my hands linger as I tie it up for her, taking my time feeling the burn of her blue eyes on my skin. Paige’s hand wraps around my waist, sliding down to feel my ass through the fabric.

“We don’t gotta go tho, if you don’t wanna,” she murmurs in that voice that’s trying to convince me I want something I had never even thought of. Good thing I was smarter than her.

“Paige,” I warn, acting strict as if it didn’t please me how badly she wanted me. Holding the end of the tie, I slide my other hand up the knot, tightening it enough around her neck.

“Fine,” she groans, heavy lidded eyes staring down at me. “We wearing silver tonight?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” I murmur, folding the collar of the white button up down. We had begun a habit of wearing the same colour jewelry, gold some days, silver on others. It made us feel connected, even when we had to pretend to be worlds apart with the Wings.

I finally meet Paige’s blue eyes, a jolt running through me seeing the hunger which she stared at me with. The blonde grins that lopsided smile that charmed the nation. “You look sexy,” she murmurs, slapping my ass.

A wide smile forms on my plump lips, green eyes flickering between her eyes and lips. Just one kiss might lead to something more, as it so often did with me and her. But my body was dying for it. My one vice. Yanking the red tie, I pull the blonde in, closing the distance between our lips.

Our lips slide against one another in a sloppy exchange, the hunger amping up quickly. I keep tight hold of the tie, pulling her impossibly closer. Paige, thrilled by control I took and the pressure around her throat groans, exhaling heavily out of her nose.

“We need to go,” I murmur breathlessly. Paige nods but neither of us do anything to stop.

“I’m serious,” I mumble as the girl begins to kiss down my neck, nose inhaling my perfume as much as it could.

“Yea, yea me too,” she whispers, both her hands kneading my ass. “Just gimmie four minutes mama.”

Considering her offer, I tilt my head to the side letting Paige’s wonderful, soft lips kiss against it tenderly igniting a burn between my thighs. Maybe four minutes wouldn’t be so bad? No, it always led to more. Four minutes always turned into forever with her

“No,” I giggle, pushing the girl off. “Let me put my heels on. Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Paige stops me by my shoulders that were sparkling from the body highlighter I’d used. “I got you sumn.”

With that, the girl digs through her suitcase until she finds a large wrapped box, handing it over with both her hands. I grab it, gleaming. I had quickly figured out that Paige’s love language was definitely gift giving, her bringing me souvenirs from all sorts of places whenever she travelled alone, delivering me flowers and getting me jewelry for no other reason than “just because”.

“Open it.”

At her words I carefully unwrap the corners, neatly pulling the wrapper off. A box is revealed, a white text decorating the top spelling out Christian Louboutin Paris. My mouth drops, when I see the inside - the classic black heel with a bright red bottom. My heart stutters as I sit down on the end of the bed in awe, staring at the pair of shoes in my hands. She got me Louboutins. That’s not a three-weeks-in gift. No, that’s something more. It didn’t scare me like it might have a month ago. I knew if there was something Paige loved it was spoiling her loved ones.

“Oh darling,” I gasp, watching the blonde kneel in front of me and grab the shoes.

“May I?”

Nodding my flushed face, I watch Paige’s big hands wrap around the arch of my foot and slip the heel on, repeating it with each one. The blonde lifts my leg by my ankle, kissing it gently before placing it back down.

“Perfect fit,” she hums, satisfied. “You like em?”

“I love them Paige,” I gasp, standing back up with my girlfriend's help. “Thank you so much.”

She looks me up and down, shaking her head disbelief. “Can’t believe that’s all mine,” she murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss on my cheek.

“Oh she’s the exact same! Socks. Everywhere!”

I laugh, sipping on my red wine and nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! It can not be that difficult to take the socks and put them into the laundry basket!”

“They’re not even clean! Smelly and sweaty socks! Horrible!” Marta agrees, waving her glass around animatedly as she speaks.

“Yo, they’re not smelly!” Paige interrupts, shaking her head. “‘S not even that bad. Y’all are sock-shaming me.”

“I wouldn’t be sock-shaming you if they weren’t all over my beautiful living room,” I scoff.

“See, I got this one to stop and now I have toys all over my beautiful living room,” Marta chuckles, toying with the glass of wine between her fingertips. “You just have to train them well.”

“Ohhh,” I giggle. “So I have to train you,” I tell Paige, feeling her hand squeezing my thigh through the satin.

Paige wiggles her eyebrows, that familiar, stupid, charming grin on her face. “That’s kinda freaky.”

I narrow my eyes at her, fighting a smile. I knew that look. “Paige Madison!” I gasp. The grin falls off her face, an embarrassed redness spreading along her cheeks. Marta and Stewie both laugh. The night had been fun, conversation flowing easy between us and the couple. Me and Marta had obviously bonded quickly over our European backgrounds, finding humor in the habits of our American girls, such as their horrible table manners.

The restaurant was dimly lit, gentle jazz playing softly in the background. It was very fancy, definitely something Marta had picked out. The soft flame of the candle illuminates Paige’s tan skin in a warm light, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. She looked so effortlessly beautiful. I don’t think I had ever been so attracted to a person. Never in my past relationships I had looked at someone and physically felt butterflies - but whenever I looked at Paige I felt them fluttering away in my stomach. Every damn time.

“Forgive me,” Paige pleads, clutching at her chest dramatically.

“For a kiss,” I smile, already imagining how I’ll be pulling that tie later. Just not here. Not yet.

The blonde looks around, shaking her head subtly. “There’s a girl that been looking at me. I think she might know me.”

Exhaling, I look around too to indeed find a brown haired girl at a table, whispering around with her friends and staring at my girlfriend. A twitch of possessiveness grows inside me, wanting me to kiss her and claim her here and then. But I knew better, so I turn back to my salmon and eat it quietly.

“You still keeping it under wraps then?” Stewie asks, following the exchange closely.

“We don’t have a choice,” I respond. “Not unless I’m willing to lose my job. And if I lose my job I lose my visa, so.”

“What?” The older woman leans back, staring at me with furrowed eyes, her dark hair flowing past her shoulders. “Lose your job?”

“My boss doesn’t allow it, anyone dating the players.”

Marta scoffs. “Is that even allowed?”

I chuckle, shrugging. “Does it matter? She could just fire me for any reason and find a person to take over my position. I know how disposable I am.”

“No you’re not. Linda loves you,” Paige answers. “I think we should just tell her.”

This again. Frustration builds in my gut, making me clench my jaw. This was a very common conversation between me and the blonde. She simply didn’t understand the stakes - because it wasn’t she who would lose her job, it would be me. If this got out she’d still have her jersey, her sponsorships, her fame. Me? I’d lose everything.

“Definitely do not tell her if she’s said that,” Stewie disagrees.

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Paige mumbles.

“Wait so you’re here on a work visa, no? What are you doing after the season?” Marta asks me, raising her brows. I exhale heavily, I had been trying not to think about it.

“Go home I guess, try to find a job here or get my position back for next season. It’s still a little uh… undecided.”

Paige clears her throat uncomfortably, shifting on her seat. I could tell she didn’t want to think about it any more than I did.

“Damn, that sucks,” Stewie mumbles, putting down her fork. “If you need help looking I know some people, I can ask around.”

“Or you could just get married,” Marta jokes, looking through her purse.

Stewie’s gesture warms my heart. Truthfully, I had been trying to look for other jobs - no one wanted to hire the British girl and pay for the visa just to get a worker they could easily find in the States. But I am also far too proud to ever accept a favour like that, not unless I have something to offer in return.

“Oh shit,” Marta mumbles, scrolling on her phone. “Honey, we have to go. The sitter has a fever.”

“No way,” Stewie sighs, quickly downing the last bit of her wine. “We better get the check,” she mumbles, eyes flickering around for a waiter.

“Nahhh, you go. I got it,” Paige waves them off easily. Something about the confidence and practiced ease of the gesture forced me to squeeze my thighs together underneath the table. “Go home.”

“You sure?” Breanna asks, standing up and throwing her black denim jacket on. Paige nods assertively, while giving a shrill look to a man walking by, clearly checking me out. I feel her body press tighter against mine, like she wanted everyone to know she owned me.

“I think you have to go to that event alone tomorrow hun, I’ll have to stay with the kids,” Marta mumbles, fixing her hair absentmindedly.

“I guess so,” Stewie sighs, disappointed. Paige beside me gives me a look that I can’t read.

“We can babysit.”

Snapping my head, I turn to the blonde. “We can?”

“Why not?” She shrugs, “I’m great with kids. Trust.”

Of course she was. She was practically just another child herself.

“No, we couldn’t ask.” Stewie refuses. “Those two are a handful.”

I chuckle, nodding towards the blonde. “So is this one,” I joke, getting an offended scoff in response. “We would love to help. Really.”

Breanna and Marta eye each other for a moment, clearly having some sort of nonverbal discussion amongst themselves. It takes everything in me not to lean against Paige’s broad shoulder, I couldn’t wait to get home. Not for any lustful reason, genuinely what I craved most in the outside world was the gentle touches, the heavenly kisses or merely the way she brushed against me whenever I was near.

“Are you sure about this?” Marta asks, my eyes snapping from my girlfriend to the woman.

“Definitely,” Paige responds with a sureness that would convince anyone. I couldn’t help but admire the way she showed up for those who needed her without needing anything in return. It wasn’t just me, it was family, friends, community. She was always there. Maybe she wasn’t the best with words or communicating. Because she didn’t communicate through words but actions. Maybe that would make it all worth suffering over scattered socks.

New York City is warm on the July evening, but the slight breeze makes me carefully place my jacket over Izara’s shoulders as we wait for our car to arrive. The dark haired girl smiles bashfully but grabs hold of the fabric. The leather swallowed her, cocooning Izzie with warmth. The loose strands of her bun flow in the air, covering some of her face. I can’t help but reach over and brush them behind her ear - I couldn’t bear not to see her eyes. Those sharp, knowing, challenging eyes I had grown to look for everywhere I went.

“Thank you,” she hums, fluttering her long lashes at me. I nearly groan from how bad I want to kiss her, to taste her lips tinted red with wine. My insides twist at the sound of her smooth but low voice, a warmth like no other spreading over me.

“Do you remember that first time we shared a car months ago?” Izzie asks, the corners of her mouth lifted upwards.

“Yeah,” I grin, looking to the ground thinking about how I had probably never been so attracted to anyone in my entire life. “You were intimidating as hell.”

“I could tell you were scared of me,” she laughs, looking around the busy street for the car. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

I shake my head, laughing too at the memory of how I’d acted a fool. “Nah, I was just so attracted to you like, the minute I saw you.”

“Me too,” she admits, green eyes twinkling at me under the street lamps.

“Forreal?” I ask surprised. If this was true she hadn’t let it show. Or I had been too blind to notice.

“Yes Paige, forreal.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her use of the word, affection overwhelming me. “Look at you using my lingo.”

Izara rolls her eyes, pushing me away by my face. “Do not think for a second you’ll Americanize me.”

“You’re so cute just wanna eat you up,” I laugh easily, wrapping my hands around her waist from behind.

“Is that a promise?” She teases, swaying us back and forth.

“Always ma,” I lean over to say into her ear, fighting every cell in me to start kissing her. “I like you so bad, y’know that?” The words didn’t seem sufficient to really express how I felt, all of them too vapid to describe the stirring inside me. “So bad it makes me stupid.”

Izzie laughs, nodding knowingly. “I like you too baby,” she hums. “So much.”

Just then, our car finally pulls up, stopping right in front of us. I thank God for rewarding my patience, opening the door and slipping in after my beautiful girl who I liked, no adored, more than anything. That word doesn’t feel right either, too lackluster, too void of what I was feeling. I’m sure I’d find the right word someday.

“Okay so snacks are in the fridge. Feel free to eat anything you’d like. And I’lll have my ringer up if you need to call, oh also don’t worry about cleaning up-”

“Marta, baby,” Breanna chuckles, taking her wife’s hand. “I think they got it.”

“I promise, we’ll be okay,” Izzie smiles. “Go have fun, I’ll have my phone on me.”

Marta sighs, looking at us two before going up to the kids who are sitting on the couch, both watching Bluey.

“Mommy’s gonna be back soon okay? Be good to Paige and Zari. I love you,” she mumbles to each of them, kissing their foreheads before returning to the door. “Okay okay okay, we need to go now.”

“I’ll carry you out if I have to,” Stewie jokes, helping Marta put her coat on. “Alright, bye now. See you in a couple hours.”

“Bye y’all, have fun,” I wave, closing the door behind the couple. Carefully, I turn to Ruby and Theo expecting at the very least a few cries. But the pair sit happily on the couch, too invested in the cartoon.

“Hey my loves,” Izzie smiles to the two of them, crouching on the couch in front of the kids. “I got you some surprises.”

This catches Ruby’s attention, her eyes flickering to Izara’s bag as she digs through it and pulls out a few pots of playdough we had picked up this morning.

“Have you ever played with this?” She asks, waving the pots around. But Ruby ignores her.

“Why do you talk like that?” She asks, clearly confused. I burst into laughter, Izara trying to hide her amusement to not offend the little girl.

“Ohh, see, I have an accent,” she explains kindly. “I’m from England. It’s in Europe.”

“Did you fly here?” Ruby questions, scooting to the edge of the couch closer to Iz.

“I sure did,” she smiles. “On a plane.”

“I flied on the sky with a big plane,” the little girl explains.

“Wow, really?” Izzie asks enthusiastically. “Did you like it?”

The little girl thinks for a while. “I was scawed. Theo cried too much.”

Iz laughs, scooting closer to her carefully. “Aw, maybe he was nervous.”

“It was loud. I covered my ears. Like this,” Ruby demonstrates, covering her ears with her little hands. Me and Izara laugh at the girl, her hair in sweet little pigtails. “What’s that?” Her tiny hand points to the yellow pots in Izzie’s hands.

“Oh, this is playdough. Have you ever played with it before?”

“What’s playdoh?”

“Well how about we go to the table and look at it? Would you like to come with me?” Carefully, Izzie holds out her hand for the young girl. She goes back and forth, until in a moment of bravery, she grabs Izara’s finger, and begins to wobble over to the kitchen. I watch the two of them, my heart fluttering at the sight.

“Theooo, cmere bro,” I coo at the younger boy who smiles at me easily, holding up his little arms and letting me carry him over to the kitchen table where Izzie and Ruby are already molding the playdough.

“I make a tiara and put it on my head,” Ruby gleams, beginning to place the playdough all over her hair.

“Oh goodness,” Iz stops her just before disaster strikes, grabbing the dough from her hands. “How about we keep the playdough on the table, and make crowns out of something else?”

Ruby sighs dramatically - until her eyes light up. “Wait!” she gasps, taking off running. Her little feet quickly jog back with two plastic tiaras in her hands. “Now I’m a princess!” She giggles, placing one of them in her head. “You too!”

“For me?” Izzie smiles, taking the crown from the girl. Somehow the plastic tiara gently laid on her black hair makes her sparkle in a way I had never seen before.

“Yes! You’re a princess too!”

“Hey!” I gasp, letting Theo squeeze and mold the dough while sitting on my knee. “I’m not a princess?”

“Hmm,” Ruby thinks, eyeing me up and down. “You can be a cowboy. Or a dog.”

“Woof woof!” Theo cheers, clapping his hands together and getting the dough all over the floor.

Izzie laughs gently, molding a heart out of the red playdough and handing it to me. I almost melt. So I can’t help it when I grab a hold of her soft hand, kissing it gently.

“Are you two married?” Ruby asks without missing a beat. Me and my Izara chuckle, my skin turning hot.

“She wishes,” Iz teases, kicking me underneath the table. “We’re not. But we’re girlfriends.”

“Okay and do you have a baby?” The little girl continues. A redness spreads over Izara’s cheeks as I wiggle my brows at her. I don’t need to say anything. She knows exactly what’s on my mind.

“We don’t,” Iz says, her green eyes moving to the little girl, gasping when she finally realised Ruby had combined all the colours into one brown pile despite her long discussion with the little girl.

“Ruby, what are you doing?” She asks, covering her mouth with her hand.

“I make a rainbow!”

I scoff lightheartedly. “That’s not a rainbow, it’s brown.”

The little girl tilts her head, looking at the brown pile before beginning to laugh hysterically. “It’s a poop rainbow!”

Theo erupts into giggles, banging his hands on the table.

“You regretting it yet my love?” I chuckle, watching Paige wiping sweat off her forehead after taking turns spinning the two kids up in the air. Mind you, this had been going on for the past 20 minutes.

“Again, again!” Theo cheers, pulling on the blonde’s sweatpants.

“God help me,” Paige mumbles to me and herself, pulling her white t-shirt off over her head, leaving the girl in a black sports bra, sweat dripping down her veiny arms.

“More Paigey!” Ruby whines, jumping up and down.

“Okay my loves, I think Paigey needs a little break,” I say gently, handing Theo a toy dinosaur to redirect his energy. The little boy sits down, happily roaring to himself as he plays. But I can see the quiver in Ruby’s lower lip as disappointment takes over.

“Moreeee,” she sniffles and then erupts into tears, beginning to cry loudly.

Paige’s eyes widen in a panic. “I can go one more ti-”

But I stop her, shaking my head. Paige can’t just bend to the girl’s will because of some tears.

Getting down on Ruby’s level, I grab her tiny hands into mine, establishing eye contact.

“Ruby, hey Ruby, look at me,” I coo, my thumbs brushing against the soft skin. “You’re feeling really disappointed huh?”

The little girl nods, cheeks red and filled with tears. “Really wanted to spin,” she says in a shaky voice.

“I know darling,” I say empathetically. “You know what always helps me when I’m sad? Taking some deep breaths. Would you want to do some with me?”

Ruby nods sadly, beginning to follow my breathing pattern - inhaling through your nose, exhaling through your mouth. We do that until she stops tearing up, Paige’s ocean blue eyes eyeing us carefully.

“Would you like a hug Ruby?” I carefully ask. The little girl immediately wraps her short arms around me, squeezing tight. I can’t help but smile, holding her tight and lifting my eyes to find Paige staring, her eyes soft and gentle as she watches me take care of the girl.

“I got an idea Ruby,” she says, crouching down beside. “You wanna build a fort?”

“Wow! That’d be great huh?” I ask the girl who finally lets go of me, nodding excitedly. “I’ll go make a snack while you do that.”

In the kitchen I begin to cut slices out of apples behind the corner, listening to the muffled laughter and joy erupting from the living room. A wide smile spreads onto my face as I bite into an apple slice, butterflies filling my stomach at the sound of Paige playing with the children. In this moment I could burst with the affection I felt for her. There was something about seeing her with kids, the way she made them giggle effortlessly, the way her strong arms held them, protected them, took care of them. Something about it had me going weak in the knees.

I jump slightly, feeling a hand wrap around my waist from behind, the scent of sandalwood cocooning me.

“You’re amazing, y’know that?” Paige murmurs into my ear, her hot breath causing shivers to run up and down my spine. “You’re so good with em.”

I chuckle softly, letting out a shaky breath when the blonde’s soft lips brush against the crook of my neck. “You’re everything,” I reply, my voice turning vulnerable.

Paige’s strong hands spin me around by my waist, now eye to eye with her. She doesn’t say anything at first, just stares - like she’s trying to comprehend something. My breath hitches, chest tightening under her gaze. She looks at me with her pupils blown. chest rising and falling a little too fast, like her heart couldn’t keep quiet, soft cheeks flushed red. I wasn’t sure why or what it meant.

“Fuck I like you so much,” she murmurs, making me blush. I knew exactly how she felt. I felt it too, or at least I thought I did.

“PAIGEYY!” A loud scream erupts from the living room, followed by the tapping of little feet. “Hurry up! I wanna play Frozen and be Elsa in my fort!”

The little girl peaks around the corner, Paige instinctively taking a step back to create space between us.

“You can be Sven!” Ruby says, waving around a pair of toy reindeer antlers.

There’s a soreness pulsing through all my muscles when I kick off my shoes, placing them neatly in the corner of the hotel room and walking in. Paige follows behind me, her hoodie coming up and showcasing her lower stomach as she stretches her arms.

“I’m so beat,” she murmurs. I nod, beginning to undress eagerly to get into my favourite pyjamas - Paige’s shirt. I pull off my top and shorts, and I'm left to dig through the suitcase in my satin lingerie. Suddenly I feel the blonde’s hands on me, unbuckling my bra for me from behind, releasing my breasts from its hold as it falls off me.

“Paige,” I scold lightheartedly, but she doesn’t speak, her fingers slide around me and brush against my nipples making them grow hard. With a shaky exhale, I lean my head back against her shoulder, my hands holding the white button down I slept in while she kneads my breasts, perfectly fitting into the palms of her large hands. Those perfect fucking hands.

“Want you mama,” she whispers into my ear, kissing along it. I moan gently, giggling a little.

“I need to- ah- wash my face first darling,” I mumble. “Keep it in your pants just a little bit longer.”

Paige groans but let’s go, rubbing her jaw in frustration. “Just be quick.”

I hurry into the bathroom, my meticulous skincare routine impossible to make quick despite my girlfriend’s wishes. Finally, after 20 minutes or so I walk out to the low rumbling of Paige’s snores, finding her laid on her back in just a sports bra and boxers, arm thrown over her face. That’s mine.

I merely watch for a moment, taking her in, taking the day in. A warm feeling overwhelms me, and the urge to curl up next to the blonde grows bigger than ever before. Everybody wanted her, yet she was all mine, worshipping the ground I walked on. Little did she know I felt the exact same.

Tiptoeing around the room, I turn off the lights, crawling into bed beside her, covering both of us in the white cotton of the duvet. Before I fall asleep, I lean into her neck, smelling the sandalwood one more time before my eyelids grow too heavy to keep admiring her.

It can’t be more than ten in the morning when I feel wet, sloppy kisses being placed into the back of my neck, fingers pushing my hair to the side. I stir, still half asleep, nuzzling my face into the pillow as I lie on my stomach. A gentle touch running down my spine slowly, goosebumps spreading everywhere.

Another kiss, now on my shoulder as fingers reach under me to undo the two buttons I had been sensible to do last night. I stir again, my body subconsciously helping by allowing the white button up to be pulled off my body, leaving me in a light pink satin thong.

“Mmh,” I hum against the cotton, bringing my hand to rub the sleepiness off my eyes when there’s a gentle shush in my ear.

“Go back to sleep ma,” Paige coos. Another wet kiss on my ear this time, sending jolts to my core. “Just wanna eat your pussy.”

Oh. Suddenly I feel more awake, and even eager, my legs spreading without me even noticing. Paige does though, grinning proudly as she kisses between my shoulderblades, wet, hot, messy kisses leaving a glistening trail down my spine. My eyes maintain closed, my brain still partly asleep but my body’s alert, my back curving my ass into the air when Paige’s lips go lower and lower.

The weight of the blonde on the mattress shifts as she sits up to admire me, both her hands gently grabbing my ass and kneading, seeing the way my light pink thong covering my cunt is peeking out between my thighs, teasing her. I feel the air hitting my core as she grabs my ass more harshly, my back arching involuntarily joined by a desperate whine. How quickly I’d gone from being asleep to dying to have her.

“I know mama, I know,” she murmurs lovingly, fingertips stroking up and down my thighs, spreading them apart just slightly. “I’ma take care of you. Gonna make it all better.”

Her words comfort me only a little, but they don’t fix the aching, dripping sensation between my thighs. Finally, Paige’s fingertips dip underneath the band of my thongs as she pulls them down my thighs with a gasp.

“Damn you’re so wet,” she hisses, slowly spreading my legs the slightest bit. “You dream of me or sumn?”

I’m too dazed and gone to answer, my only response to lift my ass off the mattress enough to give Paige a good view.

“Relax,” she whispers and finally I feel her warm tongue lick along my slit, flat against my dripping pussy once, twice, three times.

“Oh,” I gasp, my fists gripping the white sheets underneath me. Paige moans at the taste of me, pulling back to fill her lungs with air before diving fully in.

Suddenly it’s like she’s everywhere, moving slow but with precise movements, making me feel her all over.

“Baby,” I whimper as Paige’s hands spread my lips apart, burying her face deep enough into my cunt so I feel her nose pressing inside me. “Shit.”

She’s moaning harder than I am, eyes rolled back as she pulls back to spit into my folds, just to dive right back in and slurp all of it up.

“Shit’s so wet huh?” Paige mumbles against my clit, sending vibrations everywhere. My eyes begin to water, the pillow muffling my moans.

Needing more, I prop myself up onto my knees so my ass is in the air. Easier access. Paige groans, pulling back to admire my wet, pulsing pussy - one of her favourite things to do. I swear sometimes she just lied between my legs looking at me.

“Fucking shit,” she cusses, spreading me apart to see the gushes of wetness dripping out of me with every throb, quickly bringing her tongue back to my cunt as to not waste a drop.

“Paige,” I whimper, legs trembling with need. I needed to cum. Bad. “Don’t stop.”

“Yes ma’am,” she replies without hesitation. Suddenly she’s back at it, her tongue swirling in my folds, circling my clit until she begins to lap me up the way only she knew how.

“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” I gasp. Paige nods against my pussy, the sounds of her slurping me up filthy. “Make me feel so good.”

“Shit…” Paige mumbles, “tell me again, please.”

“You make- ah shit, make me feel so good baby,” I moan, the throbbing becoming harder and harder to as I got closer.

She moans at my words, they only egg her on. It’s like she’s everywhere, gripping my thighs, slurping me up, taking my clit into her mouth and sucking on it gently. I can’t help it anymore.

“Baby I- I’m- I’m gonna-“ I gasp, my moaning turning uncontrollable as she eats me. A simple nod is enough to have me rolling off the edge, grasping the sheets and gasping for air as I cum.

The blonde praises me through it, her words a distant comfort as waves of ecstasy wash over me, my wetness covering her entire face.

Weakly, I roll onto my back. My chest heaves and my eyes remain closed, but Paige crawls up from between my legs and begins to kiss me. Tenderly, lovingly, with so much emotion it surprises me.

The taste of me is all over her face as my mouth wrap around her bottom lip, pulling on it gently. She grins in response, stroking my sides and arms to bring me down.

“Iz?” She asks. Her voice is uncharacteristically shaky and nervous which alerts me enough to open my eyes.

“Yes my darling?”

She meets my gaze with her blue eyes filled with lust.

“I bought it, thought we could try… y’know.”

Oh I immediately know. I gulp. The strap had been left untouched waiting for the right moment. Maybe this was it?

Paige, too nervous to wait for me to speak, begins to kiss my neck, her breathing irregular and ragged.

“I just wanna feel you,” she murmurs, trailing downwards with wet kisses. She sucks on my collarbone, surely leaving a red mark. “Please.”

Paige’s big hands come to my full breasts, kneading gently. My hands finds its way into her hair, guiding her mouth to my nipple in a moment of desperation.

“Ahh,” I moan softly, Paige’s soft lips sucking my nipple and breast, making my back arch in response. I swear something about her mouth on my tits had me almost cumming sometimes.

“Please, just wanna be inside you ma,” she whimpers. Looking down I see her eyes watering as she her eyes roll into her head, so desperate and hungry I nearly had her in tears. “Please mommy.”

I gasp at her words, an immediate jolt rushing back to my core, still throbbing and sensitive. Paige keeps sucking on my nipples, her tongue circling them. I don’t think she realised what she said.

“Okay, okay baby.”

What I hadn’t considered was how wild just seeing the strap on Paige would have me, the silicone resting on her with her veiny hand stroking it like it was an extension of her. It might as well have been, the color matching Paige’s skin tone perfectly.

“Fuck,” she’s already panting as she climbs into the bed, eyes locked on her hand wrapped around the length.

My breathing is shaky too, a nearly painful feeling of emptiness inside me making me whiny.

“Baby,” I whisper to get the blonde’s attention.

“Yeah?”

When her blue eyes meet mine, I finally spread my legs apart, watching her gaze trail down to my core.

“Shit, okay, yeah,” Paige mumbles flustered, settling herself between my legs. She’s trembling, a bead of sweat dripping down her neck.

I gasp, feeling the silicone press gently against my slit. Paige gasps too, eyes locked onto where our bodies met as she taps the strap against my clit. I moan, brows furrowed. Fuck this. I couldn’t wait any more. The emptiness was too painful.

I reach down, taking charge and grabbing the silicone, guiding it against my folds until it’s glistening with wetness. Paige’s jaw falls slack, her eyes growing even heavier than before. Even more so when I finally guide the tip to my entrance, my leg wrapping around her waist to slip its length inside me.

“Oh sh-“ I gasp, immediately throwing my head back when I feel the intrusion. She’s big, of course she is, enough to make my legs tremble as I get overwhelmed.

“Holy fuck,” Paige hisses, watching closely as her strap - no her dick - stretches me open. “Izzie.”

“P-Paige,” I cry out.

“I’m here baby,” she whimpers, bringing her thumb to my lips and brushing it against mine as I adjust to her.

“S-So big,” I murmur, hissing as Paige slowly pushes deeper inside.

“Ah, fuck,” she cusses. “But you take it so well baby, take my dick so well.”

I moan at her words. “Baby, please.”

Nodding, mouth ajar, Paige begins to roll her hips, the strap slipping in and out of me. The stretch borders on overwhelming, a gasp spilling from my lips every time she thrusts her hips into mine.

“Fuck, look at that,” Paige hisses, eyes flickering between my chest, bouncing as she fucks me, and where her strap is digging into me, my pussy gushing and stretching around it. “Goddamn.”

She begins to go faster, my hands reaching up for her shoulders and pulling her down. We meet in a breathy kiss, both taking turns to moan into each other’s mouths. The sound of skin slapping fills the hotel room, my pussy loud as hell around her length.

“Baby, fuck,” I moan louder than before, and Paige takes it as a sign to reach down and rub sloppy circles on my clit. As she does, a gush of wetness bursts out of me, covering her thighs and dampening the sheets.

“Oh sh- Does my dick feel good? Deep inside that pussy?

I nod, my eyes rolling back. “Feel so good. I love your dick.”

“Shit,” she cusses. “W-want me to cum inside you?”

I nod again, in a complete haze, too drunk off her to think. “Please, need you to. Want you to put a baby in me.”

Paige’s head lulls back and forth, a loud moan leaving her lips. “Don’t worry, I’ma put a baby in you. Gonna get you pregnant.”

“Let me give you a baby,” I moan back. She’s pounding into me now, and as I open my eyes I find her eyes rolling back, jaw slack and brows furrowed.

“Holy- Shit, baby, I’ma put a baby in you. Take me so well. So deep in you- shit, in your guts.”

She’s rambling, the way she did whenever she got close. Wait? She’s close? Without being touched?

It only gets me wetter, my nails digging into her skin and leaving red marks all over.

“Are you close?” I ask in a shock, moaning as she thrusts into me hard. Our noses nuzzle against each other with each pump, her lips hovering over mine as we whimper into each other’s mouths.

“C-can’t help it, swear I can feel it,” she mumbles. “Swear I can feel this pussy, ma, so fucking wet and tight. Sh- she’s so perfect.”

“Paige, baby,” I cry out, looking at her scrunched up face as the knot in my abdomen tightens and tightens. “Baby, I’m close.”

“M-me too, lemme cum inside you, please, feel so good, I love you, I’ma cum,” Paige rambles, but I barely hear her, as my pussy grips around her dick, the knot finally snapping as she slams her hips into mine, cumming with me. Curses as moans fill the room as the thrusts turn sloppy and slower, both of us riding out our highs. But I only hear one thing. Paige’s voice saying I love you, ringing in my ears painfully.'

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#so it goes #lilas writing yaps #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #wnba x reader #wnba x oc #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers fic #wlw smut

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navybrat817 · 6 months ago

Text

Hold You Tight: Part 16

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 15 | Series Masterlist | Part 17

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.4k

Chapter Summary: Bucky tries to pull you closer when you want to pull away, and someone else in your life my not take no for an answer.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, arguing, tension, slight harassment, kissing, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, manipulation, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky traded lazy kisses with you as your tears slowed, and you had no idea if it was his mouth that had your heart pounding and the crushing weight of everything that surrounded him. It was so much to unpack. Every encounter with him seemed to be that way. Something blindsided you or suffocated you, but you hadn't been at all prepared for what he just shared. And how could you? He didn't keep photos of his mother around, and you hadn't gone poking around online.

Would you have found out the truth if you had?

He followed your lips when you pulled away. “It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you back in.

It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Though it partially made sense now why he was moving so fast. He believed if he met you then that you would've fallen in love and been together to this day. Because he didn't seek you out then and lost so much time, he was packing everything into a rushed time span. Dating, meeting his friends, getting you into his place. He was moving things along at an accelerated speed, and you were barely keeping up with the ride.

“No.” The muffled word against his lips somehow rang out loud and clear enough for him to stop, but you put a hand on his chest in case he tried to lean in again. “Why are you punishing me?”

His eyes rounded. “You think I’m punishing you? Jesus, why would you think that?”

“Because of how you went about all of this. I know you were desperate, and I get the drive behind some of your actions now,” you said, which you refused to excuse. You got it but couldn’t excuse it. “Your response of ‘where’s the fun in that?’ when I said you couldn’t just ask me out like a normal person? You almost seemed to delight in intimidating me. Why?”

If you saved his mom, why do this?

“I didn’t delight in that. I played it wrong,” he admitted in a quiet voice, surprising you. “I approached it like…”

“Like everything else in your life where you have everyone under your thumb through fear. You did the same thing to me.” You laughed just a little. “In a way, it worked because I’m officially afraid to try to leave you.”

Had things blossomed between you two organically, you’d like to believe that things would’ve been better. Healthy. There was always the chance that a relationship might’ve come to an end because life was like that. But if he frightened you enough to stay forever, he’d never have to worry. The stars would still align as far as he was concerned.

“I don’t want you to fear me or what we have,” he whispered, reaching for you as you scooted back.

“What we have? Tell me, do you think your mom would be proud of your actions to obtain me or ashamed?” You couldn’t believe that was the kind of man she raised, to put fear into the heart of the person he supposedly loved.

He flinched. Actually flinched. You might as well have raised a hand to him. “She…” He swallowed. “She would’ve wanted us together.”

“Like this? By you not giving me a choice?” you asked, pushing yourself up. “I need to go home.” There would be no getting through to him and this revelation was doing your head in. One cup of coffee wasn't enough either.

He got up to follow you. “Why are you rushing off?”

“I have a shift today, and I have to go home and shower,” you said, grabbing some of your things. “Don’t worry about dropping me off. I’ll get a cab.”

“What? No, you-”

“You put money in my account, so it’s not like I have to worry about paying for it. And it’s not like I’ll be alone either since you’ll have me followed whether I want it or not,” you said as a matter of fact.

“You’re putting a wall up,” he said, frowning as you grabbed your phone charger before he could. “Don’t shut me out, please.”

“I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying to process the gigantic bombshell you dropped on me,” you said, stopping to look at him when he grabbed your arm. “Bucky-”

“This has been a lot, all of it, but we can’t go back and change it, and you know I can’t let you go because we’re meant to be together,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You feel it. I know you do.”

How many times would he say that until you agreed? “Just because you think fate stepped in-”

“Fate brought you into my club, but I gave it a much-needed push to bring us together after leaving things to chance for so long,” he said, tugging you closer and putting his other hand on your cheek. “You can’t tell me you don’t care about me in some capacity. You’re just afraid to admit it because it isn’t conventional in your eyes, but you don’t have to be afraid of how you feel.”

How could you truly fall in love with him when he orchestrated everything from the start? “Feelings or not you’re still going to force me to move in with you soon, and that scares me,” you said. Your wings would forever be clipped.

“We should’ve been living together and married by now,” he argued, keeping a tight hold on you. “I know I’m making you move in sooner than you want, but beyond safety it’ll give us a chance to really know each other before we get married.”

Talk of marriage had your heart thudding. The man would probably force you to marry him sooner than you wanted. “You said you already know everything about me,” you said. At least he thought he knew you. The vision of you he built up in his mind scared you, too. He couldn’t keep you on that pedestal.

“But you don’t fully know me yet, and I don’t know what it’s like to live with you. The experience will bring us closer together.” His smile was full of hope. “We can read together, do movie nights, dance in the kitchen.”

“Bucky-”

“We can exercise together, in and out of bed,” he continued, your breath hitching as he rubbed his nose against yours. “Don’t you already feel closer to me now that you know we're meant to be?”

A quick knock on the door followed by a long one saved you from answering. “It isn't check-out time, is it?”

“No. That would be Ray,” Bucky headed to the door and kept you back a small distance before he answered. The man really was protective, wasn't he?

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Ray said, giving you a polite nod before he leaned in and whispered something to Bucky. Whatever was said to him made his face harden. The entire change in his demeanor worried you.

“Kotyonok, let’s get your bag and get you back to your place so you can get ready for work,” he suggested, his smile tight.

“What’s the matter?” you asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” he answered, kissing your forehead. “And before we go, I know you suggested taking a cab, but please let Ray take you back to your place. It would make me feel better.”

The hint of a plea in his voice and the look in Ray’s eyes kept you from protesting. “Fine, Ray can take me home. Just give me a second to change out of these pajamas,” you said, a bit surprised that Bucky wasn’t offering to take you home himself. “But you are going to tell me later what’s going on, right?” you asked.

“I will, but I need some answers myself first. Get changed. I’ll get your bag,” he said, gently guiding you to the bathroom so you could change and officially ending that conversation.

Ray was still by the entry door once you came out, looking a bit stiffer than usual, too. You stole a glance at Bucky as the three of you headed to the elevator, catching the anger etched in his features as he gripped your bag handle tight enough that you thought it would rip. They were leaving you in the dark about something. You weren’t sure if you could take any other bombshells.

“Ray may need to pick you up from work instead of me, but I’ll message you if that’s the case,” Bucky said, fixing his hair in the elevator reflection. “And… we may need to talk about your girls’ day out.”

“What about it?” you asked, already knowing where he was going with this.

“If you can cancel or reschedule it,” he replied.

You stared hard at him. Where was that coming from? “No, it's tomorrow, and I’m not cancelling or rescheduling. And don’t you dare use Zemo as an excuse to get your way,” you snapped. Even if it was a valid reason, you didn’t want to hear it.

His jaw clenched, but he looked sad as he glanced at you. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“We talked about this. If it’s a safety issue, Ray agreed that someone could watch out for me. That should keep me safe,” you reminded him. You’d be fine. “Right, Ray?”

The blonde stared straight ahead. “That isn’t my decision,” he said apologetically.

Your shoulders slumped. For a short time, you thought he could be on your side or at least help give you some slack. “Right. Because you don't get to make decisions, and neither do I. You’re a bodyguard, I’m just a doll,” you said, looking straight ahead, too, and pulling your hand back when Bucky tried to take it. “Please, don’t.”

“Kotyonok…” Bucky sighed as the door opened. You marched out, not waiting for either of them. “Wait.”

You headed straight for the desk, feeling sadder when you didn’t see Natasha. “Checking out, please,” you said, sliding the room card over to the woman standing there.

“Of course. I hope you enjoyed your stay.” She looked behind you likely at Bucky before giving you a smile. “Ms. Romanoff also wanted to remind you that you have a place here if you need one.”

“I’m sure I’ll take her up on that soon,” you said, turning your head to glare at Bucky. While his expression was stoic, his eyes told you he didn’t want you to be upset with him. “And make sure she adds an inconvenience fee to the damaged wall bill. She’ll know what I mean.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she smiled. “Take care.”

Bucky was hot on your heel and you didn't make it two steps out the door before he had a hand on you. “You’re upset with me. Putting up more of that wall.”

You didn't speak until Ray walked past you to get his car. “You’re trying to get me to cancel my day out with my friends, after you went through the whole charade of buying me a new dress for it and everything. And after what you told me about your mom.” You took a breath to try to calm down. “Yeah, I’m upset, and yeah, you’re supplying me with the very bricks to build that wall.”

“I said we may need to talk about it, I didn’t flat out say you weren’t going,” he corrected you. He might as well have. “I know it means a lot to you, but-”

You held a hand up. “No. There are no ‘buts’ in this. For all you keep taking from me, I don’t ask for much. I really don't,” you stated. In fact, you’ve shown lots of restraint. “Who knows how many moments I’ll get like this with my friends once you move me in.” He wasn’t about to take this small thing from you after everything.

He titled his head. “You think I’ll keep you from them?”

“Part of me thinks you will, yes. Because as soon as I think that there’s hope, the second I think that we could be closer together while you loosen the reins, you say or do something that puts me back in your full control,” you said. He had to see that. “And every time you do that, like you are right now, it makes me want to push you away.”

“And you can push all you want, but I’ll just pull you closer,” he smiled, making you huff when he actually did so. “I’m not afraid to let you burn me.”

“You keep saying that. Give me a match or a lighter and we’ll test that theory,” you said. He burst out laughing, the sound loud in the morning air as your eyes widened. “Why are you laughing?” you asked incredulously. How could he laugh when you were still worked up?

“Because even arguing with you makes me happy,” he sincerely stated. “And now all I want to do is find a way to put a smile back on your face.”

You exhaled. He was so in love with the idea of a relationship with you that arguments appealed to him? Anyone else would've walked away by now.

“You’re infuriating,” you whispered when he touched the corner of your mouth and made it twitch in a small smile. “Impossible.”

“I know,” he whispered back, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, you’re tired and you’re overwhelmed, which is completely my fault. Am I right?”

“Yes,” you sighed. He hit it right on the nose.

“And maybe I was rash in suggesting that you cancel your plans, but I need to take care of a couple things before we discuss that more,” he said, leading you to Ray's car before you could protest. “You just have a good shift, okay?”

He was placating you now, and it was sadly working. “Fine,” you said, touching his hand, the metal one. “I don’t think I said so earlier, but thank you for finally telling me the truth,” you said, calmer than you were moments before. He should've told you from the start, but it couldn't have been easy reopening old wounds regarding his dad.

His gaze softened. “Thank you for letting me.”

“And whatever Ray told you or whatever’s going on, just breathe, okay?” you begged.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll just think of you and it’ll help,” he said, adding in a low voice as he pulled you against him. “And this.”

This was nothing like the slow, languid kisses from minutes ago. This was dominant, claiming, threatening to rob you of the air in your lungs, like he wanted you to feed your own breath into him. He either forgot Ray was there, or he simply didn’t care.

By the time Bucky stopped kissing you and helped you into the car, you didn’t want to look either of them in the eye.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing your temple and shutting the door as your heart flip flopped. God, he was insufferable. Confusing. Obsessed.

“You're certainly keeping him on his toes,” Ray said, not driving off until he made sure Bucky was in his vehicle, too.

“Someone has to,” you said, staring out the window. “I’m going with my friends tomorrow. I don't care if he makes you drag me back,” you said. Unless your life was in some sort of immediate danger, there was no reason for you to skip out on meeting up with the girls.

“So you’re aware, the suggestion of you moving your day out has nothing to do with wanting to control you. He’s upset because of the news I delivered and he wants to keep you close,” Ray explained, making you feel a little bad.

“So, that news was the reason why you both changed your tune, and you can't tell me what that news is,” you guessed. If you were in some sort of danger though, surely Bucky would’ve said so. “He told me about his mom. How I saved her.”

Silence filled the vehicle. “So, you know the truth,” he said after a minute, his voice neutral. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trying to be,” you answered carefully. You really were.

“That’s all you can do,” he said before adding under his breath, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

You snorted. “I guess I'm living breathing proof of that.” It was ironic how an act of kindness put you on this path. “And as much as I don't like to wish pain upon people, I hope Bucky's dad got whatever he deserved.”

Winnie, from the short time you knew her, was nothing but wonderful. Bucky said the dahlia painting in his office served as a reminder that he would never do to you what his dad did to his mom. He would never set you up to take the fall for anyone else, wouldn’t let someone else hurt you if he could help it. He would forever stand by you.

Was pushing him away doing you any good?

“He did,” Ray promised you. “And I say with complete sincerity that I hope today is very uneventful for you after the time you've had.”

Your nose scrunched as you laughed. “So do I, Ray. So do I.”

Ray was kind enough to wait outside of your place as you showered and got ready for work, and didn't push you to talk more before he dropped you off at the shop. He was even kind enough to stop so you could get another cup of coffee. It helped improve your mood.

“There she is!” Kate smiled when you walked in. “Little miss not-so-single anymore.”

“Hey,” you giggled before you paused. “I didn't know you were working today. Did you switch shifts with someone?”

“God, the schedule’s all messed up. Mrs. Crandle called out for some business thing-”

“Business thing?” you asked, your brows pinched. She hardly ever took time off for things like vacation let alone a business thing without informing her staff.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure about all the details, but Lorraine ended up switching the whole schedule around. Mya’s coming in later, and I had to come in early, and your shift’s ending early.”

“What?” you frowned, checking the schedule to make sure. She was right. Your shift today was almost cut in half. “Would’ve been nice to get a text or something.”

The assistant manager wasn't bad to work with, but she could be a little forgetful with things like that. If Bucky hadn't just put money in your account, you may have been more upset over having half a shift cut. After the night and morning you had though, maybe an afternoon off wouldn't be so bad.

“She probably forgot since you were coming in at your normal time. Who knows?” Kate shrugged. “You know, I half expected Clark to be here waiting for you. Seemed really eager to see you yesterday.”

“Yeah, about that.” You looked toward the door, your body tense in anticipation even though he wasn't there. “Why did you tell him I was working today?”

“He’s kind of a regular, and I didn't really think about it. Then Mrs. Crandle brought up your boyfriend and…” Her face fell as she stopped cutting stems, which made you feel bad when she glanced your way. “Crap, I did something wrong, didn't I?”

You weren’t about to go into specifics regarding your personal situation. “I just don’t want customers to know when my shifts are unless I’m specifically working on an order or event for them, okay?” you said, hoping she understood that it was a general request.

Bucky was not getting in your head about your safety.

“Okay, as long as you aren’t mad,” she said. You gave her a smile to assure her that you were okay. “So, tell me about your new boyfriend.”

You filled her in as much as you could to make it sound believable, just like you had with Addison. Like her and Mrs. Crandle, Kate was excited for you. And they would never know the full truth.

As your shift went on, you were surprised you hadn't heard much from Bucky. It was for the best though. He was clearly dealing with something. As much as you didn't want to defend him in your mind, it had taken a lot for him to talk about his parents. To show you some of the damage done to his body. It was a vulnerable moment. Did you owe it to him to be vulnerable, too?

Wait, why did you owe him anything?

“Heading out?” Kate asked once your shift was up.

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing at your phone. You wondered if you should text Bucky before you decided against it. You'd let him know once you got to your place that you wouldn't need a ride. “Just call me if you need me to come back in.”

“Don’t worry about that. Enjoy the rest of your day!” she smiled.

Satisfied when you didn't see Bucky or Ray’s car waiting for you either, you decided to take a walk. It was a nice day, and you needed the fresh air. You hoped the weather was nice for the winery. You’d have to take photos to look back on what was going to be a fun time.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout after a few minutes of walking.

You stopped when you spotted Clark waving at you from the other side of the street. You barely waved back before he joined you. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood,” he smiled, pushing his glasses up. “You done working already?”

“Yep,” you said, adjusting your bag. “And I should really-”

“Could we talk for a minute?” he asked.

You hesitated before nodding. “Sure,” you said, falling in step beside him.

“You know, I actually went to the shop to buy you flowers yesterday. I was going to buy you some roses,” he smiled.

Oh, God. “You were?”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there and… It doesn’t matter,” he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But I was thinking… Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? My treat.”

The hopeful look in his eyes made a pit form in your stomach. “Clark, I’m seeing someone,” you said, his blue eyes dimming. Hadn’t Kate said that Mrs. Crandle brought up that you were in a relationship? “It’s fairly new, and I don’t want to mess things up,” you explained, though he wasn’t owed an explanation.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” he mumbled, kicking a small rock on the sidewalk. “Well, if it’s fairly new, I'm sure you can get coffee with other people.”

“Get coffee with people? Yes. But this kind of sounds like a date, and I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry,” you said. That would feel like cheating even if you didn't consider it a date, and you weren't that kind of person.

“Then we won’t call it a date,” he grinned.

Maybe you were feeling paranoid, but there was something weird behind his smile. “You just got out of a relationship, and I don’t want to send mixed signals by agreeing to go with you.”

His smile shook a bit. “It's just a coffee.”

“Is it?” The longer he stared, the more odd things felt, and you didn’t like it. “Listen, when you find someone else to give flowers to I’d be happy to pick some out for you.”

“I don't understand.” He laughed, but it sounded bitter. “You’ve always been nice to me.”

“Well, yeah. You’ve always been kind, too, when you come into the shop.”

“Too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he muttered, his smile disappearing completely.

You gaped at him, almost faltering in your step. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he said louder, his ire clear as day. “You think I don’t know about his reputation? He’s dangerous, and you’re too good for him.”

“How do you know I’m dating him?” you asked. And what did he know about his reputation?

He was quiet for a moment. “Mrs. Crandle said his name, and she has no idea what kind of man he is,” he said, making you feel uneasy. “I don’t think you do either.”

Oh, you knew plenty. “I appreciate your concern, really, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Well, I do. And I just don’t see why we can’t have one cup of coffee together,” he said, flashing a smile again. “It’ll be fun.”

“Because you know I’m seeing someone,” you said. He knew it before he bumped into you, but was still pushing for you to go with him. “And I also kind of make it a rule not to date customers,” you added, stopping when you got to your building. You walked faster than you thought.

“Well, rules should have exceptions, right? And if Bucky cared so much, where is he? Why wasn’t he waiting to pick you up and take you home?” he pressed, his eyes narrowing when you dug into your purse. “Maybe he doesn’t care about you as much as you think.”

Your next breath came out shaky. He hadn’t raised his voice at you, but you didn’t appreciate the third degree, or the implication that Bucky didn’t care. “Because he’s a busy man who sometimes works both days and nights. I don’t expect him to drop everything just to take me home.”

“If you took a chance on me, you’d never have to worry about things like that.”

You were starting to feel nauseous. “Well, sometimes I like the quiet after the bustle of the shop, so walking helps me decompress. And I can't take a chance on you when I’m seeing someone else.” Why was he being so pushy?

He took a small step closer. “You know, it’s dangerous to walk home alone.”

You took a step back, your keys between your fingers. “You’re right about that,” you agreed. The only reason you did so today was to take back a little control, which didn’t seem so smart now.

“I can start walking you home if you want,” he smiled, towering over you. Was he always so imposing? “When’s your next shift?”

You managed a smile in return, but it was extremely forced. “Clark, that’s really not necessary, but thank you for the offer. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He gently took your arm when you turned toward the door, worry crawling up your spine when his hand tightened a fraction. You suddenly wish you had Bucky or Ray around. “I really don’t mind.”

“My boyfriend will mind, and I’m sure you can understand that. So it’s a no on the coffee and the walks home,” you said gently but firmly, pulling your arm back and rubbing the spot where Clark grabbed you. He wasn’t listening. It somehow felt worse than Bucky and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it because Clark tried to act nice? “It’s been a long few days, and I’m going to get some rest. Have a nice day, okay?”

His eyes narrowed again, but it was his chilling smile that unnerved you. “I’m sure I'll see you again soon. We’ll have to get that coffee,” he said, walking off before you could say another word.

You rushed into the building once he was out of sight, your hands shaking. It may have been from the confrontation or the combination of everything. Maybe Clark was just lonely and latched on a bit because you were nice. Hadn't Bucky done something similar?

But if Clark wanted to see you, why hadn't he just gone into the shop if he knew you were working?

Double checking your locks once you were in your apartment, you took a breath and stared at your phone once you sat down. You had to talk to Bucky. He answered within a few seconds of you calling.

“Kotyonok, is everything okay?” he asked, sounding both happy and concerned to hear from you.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” you asked, hearing a few other men speaking in the background.

“Because you’re calling me and not texting. And you sound a little off. What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. How did he recognize that you felt off? “I just wanted you to know that the assistant manager changed my shift, so I went home early.”

“Wait, you’re already home?” he asked. The background noise suddenly stopped. “Did you get a cab? Please tell me you didn’t walk back to your place.”

“…Fine, I won’t tell you that.”

Bucky let out an impressive string of curse words as you pulled the phone away from your ear. “That’s not safe. You know it isn’t,” he hissed, but you knew he wasn’t actually angry with you. Just the situation. And bumping into Clark today and Zemo the day before, he had a bit of a point. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Because I said it may not be a good idea to go out with your friends.”

You closed your eyes. He was not going to make you feel bad. “I just needed a breather, okay? And I made it home just fine.”

“But did you? How do I know someone didn’t follow you?” he asked. Clark’s face flashed in your mind when you stayed quiet. “…Kotyonok, did someone follow you?”

“No one followed me that I know of,” you said. You really didn't have any idea. “But… I did bump into Clark. He was in the neighborhood.”

“Clark? That guy from the shop who tried to give you flowers just happened to be in your neighborhood when I wasn't around?” he asked, fury seeping into his tone as you winced.

“I… I’m sure it was a coincidence,” you said. Placating him in this wasn’t going to work, but you had to try.

“That isn’t a fucking coincidence and we both know it. Did he say anything? Try anything?”

You shut your eyes. It would be like ripping off a band-aid. “He asked me to go get a cup of coffee with him, but I told him I was seeing someone.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “He asked you out?” he asked, making you shift in your seat. “Why the fuck do I not have a file on him yet?!” he snapped at someone in the background.

“I’m working on it, boss!” you heard someone promise. “Should I call-”

“No. I’ll call him myself,” Bucky growled.

Who was he talking about? “Bucky, it’s okay. The guy asked me out and I said no,” you assured him. You weren't going to go out with Clark. “I’m sure women throw themselves at you every day and you turn them down.”

“They don't ‘bump’ into me in my neighborhood. And had you told me you were leaving early, I could’ve made sure this guy didn’t go anywhere near you. I don’t even want him near your shop until I know more about him,” he said, his anger not lessening. “If he tries anything, I will tear him apart piece by fucking piece,” he promised you, the intensity in his tone making your throat go dry.

“That isn’t necessary,” you whispered.

He sighed. “Why would you deliberately put yourself in a spot like this just to prove a point? Be pissed at me, I can take that, but do not risk your safety,” he said, adding in a quieter voice, “I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hating how guilty you felt, how worried he sounded on your behalf. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to worry you,” you said. It was stubborn and dumb on your part, and now you were afraid that Bucky really would try to cancel your day out tomorrow. You couldn’t let him. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“Make it up to me?” he asked. That seemed to get his attention. “How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll…” you began, steadying yourself. Natasha said you had power, and maybe you’d have to test that sooner than you expected. “Stay at your place tonight.”

You could hear a pin drop from the quiet. “You’ll stay the night?” he asked, his voice moving like lava through your veins.

“Yes,” you whispered, hammering the nail in the coffin.

“Give me two hours and I'll come get you,” he said, his voice strained, eager. “Be ready.”

“I will be.”

God, you hoped you knew what you were doing.

Oh, Clark. He's a problem now, isn't he? What do we think Ray told Bucky? And what's going to happen when you spend the night? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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omgfangirlland · 4 months ago

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The Shadows That Nurture 15

Don't really have anything to say 🫠 thank y'all for the attention, for reading etc, ch 16 is done, ch 17 may take longer cuz I think I'm catching a cold so uhhh- enjoy and stay safe!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 15 >>next

Jason was having a terrible week, starting with Ms. “I wouldn’t have been as forgiving if you didn’t die and came back kinder to me” Wayne- well- Grayson? He doesn’t know anymore- he’s close enough to just forging papers that say you’re his biological little sister just to fuck with Bruce.

Speaking of- Jason hasn’t turned on his coms and the phone specifically for the bats since the night the family found out. He’s seriously debating throwing those devices out the window, but he finds it more entertaining how everyone is in shambles.

Granted, while the others have tried cornering him to- politely ask questions- Jason is more paranoid about Damian and Cassandra. Cassandra not speaking wasn’t something he worried about, but her not texting him nonsense throughout the day made him antsy. Adding to that the fact that the demon brat didn’t even try to knife him down once? Yeah, no, Jason was on edge. Either those two were planning something or they knew something the others didn’t- frankly, he didn’t like either option.

He and the other rogues have been upping the attack on the rich to try and exhaust the bats, take their attention from you- but with each attack the bats seemed to care less and less. And if they did show up, they were starting to punch harder, to break more bones, to use those “only when necessary” blades more and more. They were getting angrier, desperate, and dangerous.

Good. It was about time they saw what they’d been pushing to the side, what they all did at one point. However, Red Hood was getting angrier at the pure audacity they had to just snoop around his turf every 13th of the month, they’ve been doing it for a while, sure, but they got sloppier with their stealth. It was making everyone nervous, the kids especially.

And now the gall of him to show up as Bruce Wayne, with that blasted fake smile, and that sweet, sweet food from Alfred. “Bruce. What are you doing here?” Harvey’s voice broke Jason from drooling over the buffet Pennyworth had made. “I-…” Bruce took in a shaky breath. Batman knew he should have rehearsed something, but lately, he’s only done impulsive things. “I’ve been a terrible father to my youngest daughter. I’m sure you all know that- I’m trying to slowly see the great achievements she made despite that and to try and understand her better.”

“And we’re supposed to believe that?” Waylon growled, tail tapping the asphalt anxiously. Harley backed Croc up, grinding into the ground the fact that he’d never tried before, that it’s been years. But one of the kids ignored the tension, coming up to the man and just grabbing his hand, smiling brightly at him.

“She always told us that some people are worth giving second chances.” The little girl looks back at the others. “He’s seeing he did bad and trying to fix it.” She shrugged and the rogues couldn’t argue. Without those second chances they wouldn’t be here, but that doesn’t mean they’ll make it easy for the trust fund baby. “Well, Mr. Wayne. Better get to work.” Two-face cackled as Cobblepot started directing the man to start carrying old, unusable furniture out of the buildings, giving the goons a break.

Jason turned to look at the little girl, his hands on his hips. “You stole his watch.” It wasn’t a question, it was very much a statement, a statement at which the little kid just smiled brightly. “She always said to rob the rich blind, too, and that man is too trusting of little kids. I got his ring too.” Jay couldn’t argue with that, so he just ruffled the little rascal’s hair and went on his way.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I’m sorry- You have to marry a fish?!” You almost yelled into the com as you stopped a car from splatting a woman. “And C is just letting that happen? I’m telling you, he’ll become enemy number one.” Setting the car down, ignoring Cecil saying he could hear you, you quickly grabbed the woman and flew to the protective dome where most civilians were staying safe. Your eyes met hers and you immediately complimented the bright green color. “Wha- not you two morons! I was talking to somebody else- Yes, I’m on the job.” You sigh as you set her down before getting back to action.

“Robot wanted me on the scene to take care of the civis, said something about Immortal needing the win, but uh…” You watch as the man gets overwhelmed and decapitated, his body going limp while Dupli-Kate and Black Samson try to get to him. “It’s kinda pathetic. They’re not fighting like a team. Robot, Shrinking Rae, and Moster Girl seem to be the only ones able to keep up.”

Cecil just sighs, turning on the coms for everyone. “Sorceress. End it, now.” While Robot tried to argue against it you just acted, getting tired of this mess. Getting higher in the air your hands raised, eyes glowing as you muttered some of the new spells Zatanna and John taught you.

Most of the aliens fell to the ground lured into a deep sleep state while the ones who could fight against the magic were quickly chained- all, with a wave of your hands, fell through a portal straight to their home planet. Landing you grabbed the Immortal’s head, moving closer and sticking it close enough that the skin started reattaching on its own. When you got up Kate was quick to tell you off and take your place, pulling the man onto her lap.

You just shrugged making your way to Robot and Amanda. “What’s her problem?” You mutter while subtly checking everyone out for injuries. Rex almost crashed onto you as he groaned, arm swinging over your shoulder. “She’s pissy because you and the ass were a thing, and she thinks he still likes you.” You frown, hand hovering over his face to fix the bloody mess. “That’s stupid. We weren’t. And if we were and he was still after me she should put herself first and find someone who won’t make her feel like that.”

“Wait- they are together? Like for real?” You look at the others as they get closer, most nodding. “You two weren’t? You really expect me to believe that-agh! You did that knowingly!” Rex cried as a bone set back in place quite painfully while you simply answered with a yes.

“Most of the heroes thought that. You two were pretty friendly for a while.” Black Samson shrugs. “Yeah, because we’re both immortal. We were venting about that, we understood each other, and then… Omni-Man happened, and he called me and my brother ticking bombs. Too dangerous to be helping.” Amanda hissed at that, face cringing. “Damn, that’s such an asshole thing of him to say.”

“I don’t hold that against him. But we are not our father, he should know better, and I won’t hang around him until he apologizes and means it.” You looked over your shoulder as the man in question groaned. “Speaking of- time for me to go.” You let go of the healed Rex, pat Robot’s head, and high-five Amanda. “See you later, losers.” Rudy looks at Amanda. “Why did she pat my head?” Monster girl snorts. “It’s called affection- don’t!” she slapped his hand away. “Don’t do that to me, I’ll break your legs.”

Before you could lift off the ground once you were far enough the woman you saved before quickly stopped you, calling you over. “I just wanted to thank you. Have you eaten? Perhaps I can buy you something? There’s this café down this street, they make amazing toast sandwiches and milkshakes.” You just laughed; not like you could say no to free food. “You don’t have to thank me or pay for-“ You tried to be a lady and politely refuse, but the woman insisted, urging you to take her and have a little break.

“Alright, ma’am, you won.” You smirked as you picked her up before taking flight. “May I know the name of who’s paying for my meal, at least? I mean, I may start thinking you’re an assassin or something if you keep being so mysterious and pushy.” You teased while following her directions, but she just gave you a smirk. “I’m Talia.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bruce was sitting next to Jason, looking at the kids and rogues, but his eyes couldn’t help but drift to the murals. “She really did all of this?” Jason just nodded at his question. “She did a lot. This is a small thing. Your foundations can only do so much, Bruce. Sometimes people need community, need love, and support, and to feel like they belong. She gave that to a lot of people here.”

He nods to the murals. “When she was painting those, some kids tagged it. She caught them and asked them to join, telling them she’d pay. And she did. It was enough for those kids to keep a roof over their heads while we were building the affordable housing building down the block, and it was enough for them to put towards education.”

“One is aiming to be an engineer and the other two are going for art subjects.” Jason looks at the man. “Many of the goons Batman was fighting quickly quit and started working at the orphanage or the hospital once they found out they could afford to live and their wants with the salary offered. You can’t always solve shit by paying for buildings, sometimes that does the opposite. It just makes shit more expensive when it has the name of some billionaire attached to it.”

“This? Helping each other, creating things they can afford while opening job opportunities everyone is qualified for, and nobody will have to break their backs only to decide if they should pay for groceries or rent that month- that helped. It brought the crime rate down. Sure, I still sell drugs, crimes still happen, but surprisingly that has gone down for my zone too.”

“She has a job now, a well-paying one. So, the allowance you send mostly goes to this- I think she even sends some of her actual salary here. I began adding to it, and Penguin started doing similar on his turf.” Jason shrugs. “We gather it all and split it so everyone can pay bills, can have money for groceries, and clothes, and even have some extra on the side. Some still don't get paid enough due to the government not wanting to fund us, but what we put together helps make what is a 7-dollar-per-hour job into a 20-25-30-dollar-per-hour job. When she sends too much, we either give bonuses or put it to vote and repair something. It usually ends up being that, it’s how we repaired the local kindergarten and school. It’s how we repaired a lot.”

“I never knew-“ Jason just laughs at Bruce. “Yeah, I didn’t either. I was a little shit like you, too, remember? It took me dying to see that.” The young crime lord looks Bruce in the eyes. “That’s why I won’t tell you where she is, what she does, who she is now.” Bruce looks at his son, the tiredness in him shining through now more than ever. “She’s in Chicago, lived in NYC for a bit.” The older man mutters.

“I’m… I’m afraid of how she’d react, of what I will find out if I go looking for her.” He whispers and Jason simply shakes his head. “You’re afraid she’ll reject you, brush you off like you did. You’d deserve it. Everyone in this blasted family would.”

Bruce nods. He wasn’t able to sleep for a while after finding out one of his kids was missing and he didn't even know. He mostly sat in his office, in front of his parents' portraits. Every single one looked more disappointed in him than the other- he knew that wasn’t possible, they were paintings… but a part of him also remembers those portraits being- happier.

“Have you gone in her room yet?” Bruce shakes his head, his question waking him from his thoughts. Nobody did, not even Alfred, the guilt was eating everyone alive, he was sure Dick would cry or break something if he even looked at her door. “You should.” Jason insisted. “Call the others, you all are going to look into her room, into her life, and see what hell we all put her through.” The young man nudged the older man to get up when Cobblepot came closer, trying to put Bruce to more work. He wasn’t doing this to better them, Jason wanted the family to be broken. It was selfish, but being selfish is what made him your favorite rogue.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“So, how was everyone’s day?” Debbie’s nightly question was asked again as she set her drink down.

“Well, instead of marrying a fish I ended up fighting a sea monster and then I finally moved into my dorm with William.” Mark said as he ate. “I have hella parental issues, and I think everyone should compliment my achievements more because I almost cried when this lady I ate lunch with said she was proud of how quickly I grew in my powers.”

“You almost cried?” Debbie asked, worry on her face at the revelation. Maybe they should have put you in therapy the first time you came clean with Bruce’s neglect. Mark, however, was more fixated on the unnamed lady, knowing you were mostly joking. “…You went on a date?” You sigh. “No. Stop doing that overprotective older brother BS, you look like a mangy Chihuahua acting like that.” He just pouted.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29

#dc x invincible #dc crossover #invincible crossover #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere invincible #neglected reader #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #female!reader

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yumeka-sxf · 4 months ago

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The school vacation is over and the new term at Eden is starting...of course, Anya is less than pleased with this development 😅

Seriously, her groaning reminds me of my "anti-school" phase I had when I was around her age, lol.

This chapter was mainly focused on introducing Anya's new classmates. I'll admit that I feel SxF has enough side characters already for the type of series it is, but maybe they'll only be relevant for one story/arc (like Daybreak and Wheeler). Though having another female friend in Connie might be nice. She seems weird enough for Anya to have fun reading her mind 😂

Since recent chapters have dropped hints about Anya's past and the emphasis on mind-reading abilities/the occult via Melinda, plus we have the lingering mystery of Anya's affinity for classical languages, I feel like this new set up at Eden is going to play into that. Not only has Arnold returned, but we now have a supposed prince in the mix. It's been theorized that Anya's classical language skills are somehow tied to royalty in a foreign land...so maybe Tertius is connected to that somehow. I mean, you must be royally royal to have hair shaped like a crown 🤣

Then we have the as-of-yet unnamed kid who flicked a booger on Tertius. Curious what role he'll play if all this is indeed leading up to more Anya backstory reveal.

I should clear up some weird translation in the English version. In the below panel, it seems like Tertius is mentioning Jeeves, but the term he's using is 爺や ("jiiya") which I believe is an old term used to refer to an elderly male servant.

Now the word "jeeves" in English is a generic term used to refer to a butler or valet. If you've watched enough movies and/or TV series, you may have heard someone refer to their butler as "jeeves." So technically it's not an incorrect translation, but it's incredibly confusing because we already have an established character named Jeeves, who is Damian's butler. So this could make people think that Tertius knows Jeeves, which is likely not the case. They really should have come up with a different word to use, something like "pop" or "gramps."

Besides the new characters, we now have more potential for Anya and Damian to be alone, without influence from Emile, Ewen, and Becky. Hopefully it will lead to more talk about Anya's mind-reading and Desmond lore.

Guess that's all I have to say about this chapter as it mostly seems like setup for what's to come. I've probably mentioned before that the Eden-focused stories aren't exactly my favorites, especially when Anya isn't a key player. But hopefully whatever's going on with Tertius and the booger kid will be leading up to something significant in the end.

Interestingly, this is the first chapter since Loid's backstory that's being split into parts, as this chapter is called 112.1 (112 part 1 in the Japanese version). Similar to what he did for Loid's backstory chapters, Endo tweeted about this for chapter 112. Guess it's just gonna be two parts?

Also, on an unrelated note, we also got the cover reveal for volume 15 today! Features Martha, not surprised since it will include chapters from the Henry/Martha backstory arc.

#spy x family #sxf #spy family #spyxfamily #anya forger #damian desmond #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #sxf spoilers

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7-deadly-cats · 1 month ago

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killing me softly | 15

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes (especially coming from rafe), vomiting (non-graphic), description of a hangover, chat containing a poorly photoshopped pic of rafe's bruise, hints at reader thinking of rafe in a suggestive way (non-graphic), chat containing a thirst trap of kelce lmao (only upper body), slight homophobic remark made by rafe (character voice, not endorsed), poor reader putting herself in an awkward situation

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ during a suggestive version of truth or dare, rafe stepped up for you, saving you from playing 7 minutes in heaven with the jock-asshole/perv chris reid. the game ended with rafe storming off after being punched in the face by chris. at 12am cara finally arrived, and you are chilling at the bar with topper, molly and rob (which you've lost interest in bc he kissed ruthie for her dare). kelce who'd been looking after rafe, called topper to bring some ice but cara suggested to send you instead. kelce accidentally locked you and rafe outside after he left to check on molly. you and rafe got into a heated argument but you both apologized to each other afterward. there's a seemingly close moment with you taking care of rafe's bruise and an maybe-almost-kiss that got interrupted by kelce and molly making out. you and rafe chilled the next few hours with cara and topper in the living room, and at 4am, you and cara decided to dip. you four hugged each other goodbye, and afterward, rafe found your forgotten bag. he thinks you left it on purpose for him to bring it to you the next day.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 7.2k+ (you guys said you liked longer chapters lolz)

✿ A / N ✿ first of all: i changed the pairing tag from introverted!reader to overthinking!reader because overthinking plays a much bigger role in the plot and her struggles. next: so thankful for all the sweet and supportive comments on the two party chapters, like i was so anxious about them but you guys made me feel like i chose the right direction for reader and rafe. and after this crazy-ass party, i felt like a little breather chapter was needed. well, not for reader exactly, bc this chapter’s slightly more suggestive than the others lolz. i tried to do my best considering i wrote this shit within two days lmao and the ending feels kinda sloppy but hope you guys enjoy anyway and pls lmk what you think <33

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // S A T U R D A Y

Sweat, heat, and a pounding headache greeted you on this wonderful morning. The sun rays stabbed through your eyelids like little knives, and instead of birds chirping, there was just this obnoxious screeching noise outside. Your blanket was somehow twisted around your body like a boa constrictor getting ready to digest its prey.

In short: you felt absolutely miserable.

Great. I've got a fucking hangover.

With a heavy groan, you rolled over to escape the sunlight, but the movement stirred something awful in your stomach. You shot upright, hand flying to your buzzing skull, and stumbled out of bed while wrestling your way out of the blanket trap.

Eyes half-shut, you searched blindly for your door, using the doorframe for balance and the wall as your guide through the hallway. You tried your best to suppress the storm in your stomach, but just in time, you managed to flip the toilet lid open and basically threw yourself at it before puking your guts out.

Fuckkkk. No way you had gone that hard yesterday—wait no, today? Ugh, didn’t matter.

Oh wait, you had gone that hard.

You'd kicked the night off with some fat hits on Kelce’s strong-ass joint, then downed a bunch of beer pong cups, sipped on Rafe’s cursed JägerBull mix on the side, and later Topper’s shots and some sort of cocktails and just… shit.

Way too much, way too fast, way too mixed.

Still, you were pretty sure the real killer had been Rafe’s fucking insane JägerBull combo that had definitely been mixed like 60/40. Heavy on the Jäger.

My fucking fault for drinking that bitch in the first place.

Then again, how the fuck did Rafe even survive parties like this? Weed, coke, and alcohol? That sounded like a literal death wish.

But even trying to hold on to a thought hurt like hell. Your skull felt like it was vibrating in two directions at once.

Weakly, you finally managed to sit back, flushed the toilet (grimacing at how loud it sounded), and splashed some cold water on your face. It did something, at least. You didn’t feel quite as much like a dead fish anymore.

After a few silent minutes at the sink, you gathered enough strength to shuffle back into your room. Thankfully, your parents were already downstairs, so you didn’t have to face them like this.

You shut the door quietly behind you, opened every window to get rid of the suffocating air, and downed nearly the entire liter bottle of water from your nightstand in one go.

At least that took care of the fire in your throat.

Carefully, you laid back down, but the second you were flat on your back, your stomach protested again. Groaning, you sat up and leaned against the bed frame.

You tried to think about anything but the trainwreck your body was currently experiencing. So naturally, your thoughts went straight to the one topic that had been haunting you for years.

Rafe.

Images, moments, conversations—everything from last night, or maybe early this morning (whatever, who even knew), swirled around in your aching head.

How good he’d looked when he'd picked you up, his aquatic cologne that was just always lingering in the air around him, his boyish little chuckles whenever some stupid shit happened, that fucking HUG when you two had said goodbye.

Fuck. His warm body pressed against yours, arms wrapped around you exactly like you’d always imagined in your pre-bedtime scenarios, his scent a mix of weed, booze, and him, and JUST AHHHHHHHHHHH.

You couldn’t even process all that had gone down yesterday. Even if you wanted to, it was impossible. Way too much had happened. Too many highs and lows and crazy-ass moments. Ruthie, Chris, Rob, Molly and Kelce—MOLLY AND KELCE, HOLY SHIT—

I ACTUALLY DID IT.

You'd actually managed to match them up. Or, well, at the very least, they’d had a very fun night in Kelce’s room, soooo .... win?

And that wasn’t even the only duo you’d noticed. Topper and Cara too, like omgmgmgm, something was definitely going on between them. Their energy was so opposite: Cara had that bold, flirty, zero-fucks, ADHD vibe, and Topper was this thoughtful, sweet guy who weirdly balanced her out. And somehow... it worked.

Oh god, and then somehow Rob’s face popped into your head and your stomach flipped again. Not because of him, no—Rob was honestly a total sweetheart. Chill vibe, golden retriever energy, super respectful, and charming in the best way.

You’d definitely been into him. And maybe something could’ve happened, too. You'd been drunk enough, he'd been clearly giving you green lights, and for the first time ever, you'd actually felt comfortable enough around a guy for something to happen. Like you could've let your guard down with Rob and just go for it.

Maybe even something more than just a makeout hahaahah.

Yeah, maybe.

If it hadn’t been for Ruthie’s stupid-ass dare.

Like, sureee, everyone else had received wild dares but of course, she got the sweet little “kiss the perfect guy” assignment. That bitch 100% made that up.

But whatever. You couldn’t change any of it now (wow, did your brain just actually spit that thought out?). And honestly? You were lowkey glad things had gone down the way they had.

Because even if that brief setback had seemed like the universe playing a cruel joke on you, everything after had felt like an actual dream.

Still did.

That close moment with Rafe on the balcony—LIKE GIRL HOLY SHIT YOU’D ACTUALLY MADE A MOVE ON HIM. Okay, not like a move move, but like... stepping-out-of-your-bubble move.

Calling him out on his bullshit? Iconic. Delicious. But then you had the guts to go sit next to him, AND THEN YOU’D BASICALLY NURSED HIM.

AHHDJKWSNHFZIUFHVIJRVFDKUJGCHIF.

It all felt so fucking surreal, so fucking dreamlike and insane. And—

The biggest bomb just dropped in your brain: his almost-maybe-kiss.

That thing he'd done—that little look at your lips, that tiny lean-in, that moment of tension—LIKE WHAT.

Okay sure, you could argue that he'd just got distracted by Kelce and Molly practically going at it behind you and that’s why his body shifted a little bit. Made sense. But like, come on—it was the vibe. The moment. The close proximity.

AM I JUST BEING DELUSIONAL????!?!?

You had to text Cara. Like, right now (calling? absolutely not. Talking would probably explode your brain at this point).

Also, it was already almost noon, according to your phone screen. Damn.

And the first thing you saw?

Your open chat with Rafe.

!!! picture of reader just depicting a mood, not her actual appearance

WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK.

You stared at the chat with wide eyes, completely speechless and bewildered. Because guess what? Funny thing: you had zero memory of this.

Not of Rafe texting you, not of you apparently changing his saved name. Not of you sending him a FUCKING DRUNK SELFIE (like what the hell was drunk-you even on??). Not of him sending one BACK??? Or—holy shit—of Rafe being that cheeky.

Seriously, what the fuck.

Why would he say he'd use your pic to—HELL NO.

Okay, sure. It had been obviously just some stupid nasty-ass joke on his part. You were used to that by now. But the thought that he might’ve actually did it to—NOPE. ABSOLUTELY NOT. HOLY SHIT.

He was just a dumbass who thought he was being funny and also he'd crashed with Topper at Kelce's, THERE’S NO WAY HE EVEN HAD THE CHANCE TO—NO, GIRL, STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT. OMGGGG.

You shook your head, eyes squinting shut in pain at your own thoughts, cheeks burning with the shame of even thinking in that direction.

The worst part? You should be weirded out by him saying stuff like this. If any other guy joked about getting off to a selfie of you? Immediate no. Just—ew, absolutely not. But coming from Rafe… shit, it made your heart race in a way that was seriously questionable and it just fueled your delusions (i need serious help).

Forcing yourself to look away from his pic—his poor face now branded with that awful bruise for the next few days or even weeks—you focused on his last messages.

Because HOW THE FUCK HAD HE TURNED SO SUGGESTIVE ALL OF A SUDDEN?

Sure, he'd made lots of sexual and suggestive remarks before but THIS? This clearly centered around you in a way that implied he would've been down to ... do stuff AND WHATTHEFUCK.

He'd probably been just too wasted and didn't notice what the fuck he'd been writing. But then again his spelling was completely fine OH GOD.

You sighed and stared at your screen, wondering if you should reply anything at all to these crazy last two messages. Timestamp said 4:30am. That was almost eight hours ago.

He was probably sitting on Kelce’s porch right now with Topper and Kelce—and maybe Molly (you were fully rooting for that Kelce x Molly ship, so fingers crossed)—nursing the hangover. Or maybe he’d already gone home. Or maybe he was still passed the hell out.

Who knew what kind of person Rafe Cameron was after a party.

Either he was completely wrecked and barely clinging to life, or he was one of those insufferable people who went on early morning jogs after a wild party and followed it up with a super nutritious breakfast.

No in-between.

Okay, whatever state he was in or wherever he was now, it still left you with the question: Leave the message on read or reply something?

You were kinda scared to do the latter, honestly. Because you were still clinging to the memory of last night—how you’d sat with him on the couch, him listening to you ramble about stuff you didn’t even remember anymore, and... god, his arms around you when you’d said goodbye, the warmth of his body.

IT STILL FELT LIKE SOME DISTANT DREAM.

And well, you didn’t wanna ruin that illusion with some stupid reply (aside from the fact that you didn't fucking know what one should reply to such messages in the first place).

Ugh. All of this was so... You didn’t even have words for it.

The party had shifted your entire dynamic somehow, and you had no idea what that meant. If it meant anything at all.

The worst part? Some part of you genuinely believed that last night had built a foundation. A little piece of something you could build on. For... whatever. Maybe a friendship, maybe—fuck, who knew.

It just didn’t feel like you were just project partners anymore. Not the kind of random school pair-up that’d be over next week with no strings attached.

You’d genuinely grown to like Kelce and Topper too—somehow they’d carved out a place in your heart. And Cara fit right into that little bubble as well. And—no, girl, don’t jinx it.

It is what it is, and right now it’s good. No thinking about what could be. Just be happy with how things are.

Whew.

This week... holy hell.

So much had happened in just five days. Emotionally exhausting, mentally draining. Your brain still hadn’t caught up with the fact that you’d somehow gotten this close to Rafe Cameron in such a short time.

Okay, not close close. But compared to doing absolutely NOTHING for seven years to get anywhere near your crush, this felt like a damn leap to Mars.

And right now? You should probably leap into the shower.

You were finally awake enough to notice the lovely scent of beer, weed, and sweat that had settled into your blanket. That thing definitely needed a wash.

But first, there was something more urgent:

You didn’t give your brain enough time to process what your drunk self had actually got up to last night—aside from having zero shame, sending out random selfies, and apparently being tragically down bad for Rafe.

Nope. You just laid out some fresh clothes and slipped straight into the shower.

And not even a freezing McDonald’s Sprite or the first breeze of summer felt as good as that cleansing shower after such a crazy night.

Your hangover was still very much present, but at least you didn’t feel like a miserable hobo who’d passed out on empty beer bottles by the beach anymore.

The smell of lunch lingering in the hallway made your stomach grumble, and you were already looking forward to one of Mary’s delicious meals. She was such a sweetheart—sometimes it felt like her presence was more motherly than just a housekeeper’s.

The doorbell rang just as you were slipping into your underwear. Probably one of your dad’s private orders for his office.

You tossed the used bedsheets into the laundry basket, slid on your slippers, grabbed your phone, and padded down the stairs.

When you heard muffled voices coming from the living room, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe a colleague of your mom’s.

But when you reached the kitchen and realized who was actually in your house, every part of you froze. Even your heart seemed to stop for a second.

You stood still, not daring to move or make a sound, because apparently, Rafe fucking Cameron had decided to show up at your house on a Saturday afternoon. UNANNOUNCED. And apparently one of your parents had let him in—your dad, probably, since that’s who he seemed to be talking to.

Again. UNANNOUNCED.

You weren’t sure whether to be pissed off, overwhelmed, or excited because WHAT.

Very quietly, you moved toward the edge of the doorway, not daring to look into the living room—just listening.

“…that’s why warmth is better than a cold compress now. Helps with the hemorrhage,” your dad explained. “I’d offer you something for the pain, but I assume you drank last night?”

Seriously? Was your dad actually checking out Rafe’s bruise? Even on a day off from his doctor's office, the man worked.

AND THE CRAZY PART: It sounded like Rafe had actually let him.

“I did,” Rafe replied in a tone you’d never heard before.

“A beer to counter the hangover this morning?”

“Just water, sir.” SIR???

A quiet chuckle from your dad. “Responsible. Well, wait until the alcohol’s out of your system, then you can take an Ibuprofen. Eat something first and keep treating it with warmth over the next few days.”

“I will. Thank you.” Who the fuck was this polite guy?

“You’re welcome to join us for lunch,” your mom’s voice called out, and HELL NO, WHAT. “Mary cooked plenty.”

NONONONONONONONONONO.

You forced your feet to move and stepped casually into the living room (or at least you tried), immediately locking eyes with Rafe.

He was sitting in one of the armchairs, your dad on a stool next to him, a medical kit open on the coffee table. And your mom looked like she’d just gotten back from a business deal, still dressed in full professional attire.

The whole scene was so fucking weird. All of it.

“Oh, hi sweetheart, finally awake?” your mom greeted you with a warm smile. “I let Rafe in when I saw him at the door.”

SURE, MOM.

Rafe nodded with that charming smile of his (the bastard clearly spared from any hangover, of course). “Yeah, I was on my way home and thought I’d drop your bag off.”

MY—SHIT.

That hadn’t even occurred to you on the ride home with Cara. AND OF COURSE, out of all the shitty people at that crazy party, Rafe had found it. Now he probably really believed you left stuff around just so he’d chase after you.

It was the goddamn forgotten Apple Pencil all over again.

“I put it on the dresser in the hallway,” your mom added.

You gave a tight smile, feeling dumb in your stupid little outfit, still probably looking like hell despite your shower. “Thanks,” was all you managed to say, holding Rafe’s smug gaze with barely restrained inner chaos.

Somehow you felt cramped in your personal space, but somehow you didn’t even care because part of you was way too happy to see him again. Like, girl, chill out, it hadn’t even been ten hours since you’d last seen each other, BUT THEN AGAIN, NOT EVEN TEN HOURS AND HE’D DECIDED TO DROP BY.

He could’ve brought it tomorrow. Or on Monday. Or made you come pick it up.

But he hadn’t.

He came here of his own free will, and your brain didn’t dare to figure out why.

“Lunch is ready." Mary peeked in from the dining room with a sweet smile.

“Thank you, Mary. Take a break,” your mom replied before turning back to Rafe. “The offer still stands. You’re welcome to join us.”

NO HE ISN’T.

And this bastard had the audacity to flash a polite smile, all charm and sunshine. “That’s really kind of you, Mrs. Y/L/N, thank you, but I don't wanna bother you more than necessary .”

EXACTLY.

“You need a proper meal, boy,” your dad chimed in as he packed up his medical kit. “Your body needs electrolytes and vitamins after a night of drinking and a hit to the face like that. Didn’t your father teach you that?”

You expected Rafe to get all defensive at the mention of his dad like he always did, but all you saw was the slight tension in his jaw, the way his smile tightened for just a second before he replied, “Guess he never had to. I usually feel pretty good the next day.”

Your dad chuckled and snapped the case shut with a click, turning to Rafe. “Well, at least he taught you never to turn down a woman’s invitation, right?”

Rafe’s brows twitched, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes before he turned to your mom, a boyish smile forming on his face (there's no way that was actually Rafe).

“I guess lunch sounds great.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Gripping your fork, trying not to frown, you poked at your food. You could barely get the bites down, your stomach still on high alert, and you really didn’t want to bolt to the bathroom in front of everyone.

Well, maybe you did need to because fucking Rafe was having lunch with your parents. At your table. Like it was the most casual thing in the world FOR EVERYONE EXCEPT YOU APPARENTLY??!

Your parents had settled into their usual side of the table, and well, due to logical and spatial reasons, Rafe had taken the seat next to you and HNDJEWKBCHSKBCHSA IT WAS SO FUCKING WEIRD LIKE YOU COULDN’T EVEN PUT IT INTO WORDS.

It felt like a fucking alien was sitting at the table, but only you were aware of it, and it was just NO. You had honestly thought that after last night, being around Rafe wouldn't throw you off anymore, but this? THIS WAS WEIRD. JUST FUCKING WEIRD.

While your parents asked Rafe about his family, school, blah blah blah, there was this heavy, unspoken thing hanging in the air.

You NEVER brought boys home. You’d never even dated anyone before. And now suddenly some dude was sitting at the table with your family?!

And it was obvious what your parents were thinking. They knew you’d spent the last few days with Rafe, even if it was just for a school project. They knew he’d picked you up last night and that you'd come home late and JUST UGHHHHHHHH.

Let’s just face it: They probably thought something was going on between you and him. And the worst part? Judging by how smug and charming Rafe was acting, he was probably aware of it too.

You just wanted to crawl back upstairs and sleep off your hangover and wake up to find this was all just a stupid dream.

Everything about this was so embarrassing and uncomfortable. AND WHY DID YOUR PARENTS JUST WELCOME A BOY WITH A PALM-SIZED BRUISE ON HIS FACE LIKE IT WAS NOTHING???

Apparently YOU were the crazy one for freaking out.

“…so yeah, he seems pretty happy with his choice despite not being able to take it out properly yet,” Rafe finished telling your mom about his dad's opinion on the Grady White he’d bought from her.

Your mom nodded, smiling. "I’m glad to hear that. I assume business is going well, then, if he’s been that busy?"

"Yeah, he’s had a lot of meetings lately," Rafe said, pride in his voice. "Him and the mayor are working on a bunch of projects. Especially with the Gloaming right around the corner."

Ugh, please don't remind me of it.

The Gloaming was basically the fall version of Midsummers, introducing the new school year and celebrating the beauty of the season or some shit. Basically, another opportunity for Kooks to show off.

"Is that what you’re aiming for too?" your dad asked as he helped himself with another scoop of potatoes. "Real estate industry? Taking over Cameron Developments?"

Rafe lifted his chin and nodded. "It’s my dad’s legacy. Gotta keep that going."

Your dad chuckled softly. "Yeah, that’s true. Ward’s built something really big but I meant, is that what you want?"

That question seemed to throw Rafe off like he didn’t quite understand the question. You could see it in his profile—the slight shift in expression, unsure whether he should be defensive or play it cool.

Your mom seemed to notice it too, thank god. "It’s always just interesting to see the path kids choose," she said. "There’s nothing wrong with wanting to follow in your parents’ footsteps. I mean, I’d be thrilled if Y/N took over Y/L/N Yacht Sales someday," she added with a quick glance at you, chuckling, "but of course, I’d be just as happy if she found her own way, as long as it makes her happy."

Poor Rafe looked like he had a mini brain freeze. The overwhelm was written all over his face. Why? You had no clue. Maybe he really believed legacy was everything or some shit, and your mom had just casually called his whole existence into question.

Which, honestly? Made you suppress a smile. Because at least one woman had managed to shut him down.

If you’d said that to him, he probably would’ve snapped back, but here? In your family home? Talking to your parents? He kept it together. Even the dumbest guy on earth knew when to behave.

"Yeah, I guess," Rafe said at last, his voice a bit more distant now. "But this is the path I wanna choose. It’s what my dad always envisioned for me, and it’s what I want too. I’ve always been interested in finance and management stuff."

Boy, you’ve been dealing drugs, not running a corporate empire.

Your dad nodded, amused. "Then maybe you could help this one out a bit," he said, nodding toward you with a smile. "Her math and econ grades could use a bit of support."

Seriously?

You frowned, cheeks burning, and your heart skipped a beat as Rafe turned to you, his blue eyes locking onto yours with that teasing glint and a cocky smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I noticed that too."

SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF HERE.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to endure this much longer, because your mom had an upcoming client meeting, and with that, the world’s most uncomfortable lunch finally started to break apart.

"Alright, I have to get going," your mom said as everyone got up from the table. "It was lovely having you over, Rafe," she added while slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Are you staying a little longer or do you need to head out as well?"

PLEASE. OH MY HOLY FUCKING GOD.

Even Rafe seemed momentarily thrown. "I dunno, I—"

"None of my business," your mom said with a smile. "Say hi to Ward and Rose for me, okay? You’re always welcome here, by the way." CHILL THE FUCK OUT, MOM, OMG. "Have fun, you two."

And with that, she FINALLY left. Fucking hell.

Your dad left not long after too, off to meet some friends at the country club. He gave Rafe a handshake and a nod. "Like I said, warm compresses, drink plenty of water, maybe throw back an Ibuprofen if it gets too bad. Oh, and if it looks worse tomorrow or your jaw starts hurting, you should probably get it checked out. I’m off Sundays, but if you want to stop by, I’ll take another look.” He laughed. "Just… maybe pick a different kind of game next time."

Rafe just nodded with a smile. "Yes, thank you, sir."

And with that, your dad left you two standing alone in the hallway. The only sound left in the house was Mary clattering dishes in the kitchen.

Before Rafe could say anything stupid, or the two of you could fall into whatever weird post-lunch limbo this was, you looked him dead in the eye and said, “What the fuck did you tell him about your bruise?”

Rafe let out a surprised laugh. “What?”

“Yeah, I mean my dad’s chill, but he’s not that chill. He definitely asks questions,” you said, frowning. Because Rafe definitely looked like he’d been in a fight, and there’s no way your dad would just let a boy looking like that into his house without asking.

Rafe shrugged. “Told him some dudes wanted to play golf in Kelce’s backyard and one of them accidentally hit me in the face mid-swing.” Then this little shit grinned with the cockiest smirk on his dumb face. “Saw the golf bags in the garage and figured your dad would see a kindred spirit in me.”

That lying little motherfucker.

“So not only do you show up unannounced here, you also lie to my dad,” you said dryly. However, you were kinda impressed with how smooth that lie was.

Rafe raised his brows, clearly amused. “You’re pissed.”

Your brows twitched. “Well yeah, I don’t like it when people just show up without a heads-up.”

“Why? Did you need time to get dressed or something?” he shot back with a boyish smile, his gaze briefly flicking over you.

JESUS CHRIST.

“I feel like you actually want to get hit with a golf club,” you said.

Rafe chuckled. “Shit, no thanks. You already hit me twice last night.”

That pulled a smile from you. “Not sorry about that.”

“No, but you could at least thank me for bringing your bag,” he replied. “Drove all the way from Kelce’s just because you keep forgetting your stuff.”

Haha. So funny. Yes, we get it. Kelce lived basically next door and once again, Rafe had to run after you. This guy’s humor needed to be studied.

You frowned. “You had the privilege of eating dinner with us. I think that balances things out.”

That boyish little chuckle escaped his lips again. “Shit, you really don’t seem thrilled to have me here. Guess I must’ve misread your drunk little selfie.”

OKAY WHAT. BRO IS FLIRTING. LIKE 100%.

And the memory of you just earlier imagining him doing… things using your picture came back full force and OH MY GOD, NO NO NO STOP.

Your cheeks instantly warmed up, but you just stared at him, deadpan, refusing to think of him like that again. “I just would've appreciated it if you'd texted me you were coming. That’s all.”

“Of course,” he said, a little too innocently. “Just to be clear: you’re talking about me coming over, right?”

THIS NASTY GUY. WHAT EVEN.

You blinked at him with parted lips, absolutely in disbelief, and EMBARRASSED TO HELL LIKE WHAT WAS UP WITH HIM ALL OF A SUDDEN.

“What are you, twelve?” you asked, frowning and doing your best not to sound like an awkward gremlin.

But this guy was clearly in the best mood, and judging by his pupils, he wasn’t even high. “Shit, I’m not the one getting flustered over adult stuff.”

Nope. You’d had enough of him thinking you were some awkward virgin in need of "getting laid" or whatever late-puberty nonsense was happening in his head.

“Okay, so did you just come here to throw around immature jokes or…?”

Rafe chuckled and scratched his chin. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m already here, so… maybe we could finally finish that project?”

HUH.

Okay, the universe had to have shifted, because Rafe Cameron suggesting to do SCHOOL WORK on a SATURDAY?

The end was near.

“What?” Rafe asked, clearly amused by the way you were staring at him like he just announced aliens had invaded Earth.

You shook your head, a little thrown off. “I—nothing. It’s just, we can’t really keep working without the copies of the collage cutouts.”

“My dad’s got a huge printer in his office,” Rafe said with a shrug. “Or we could stop by a copy shop if you’re too scared to face my family.”

Somehow that felt like an attack. Somehow it also felt like he was saying, “I know you’d be uncomfortable coming over to my place with everyone home, so here’s another option.”

Yeah, sure. Probably just being considerate. HAHAHAHA. Sure.

“Or… maybe we just don’t,” you said with a sheepish smile. “I’m actually too hungover for this right now.”

For a second, Rafe’s brows twitched like he hadn’t expected you to decline. But then he just raised his chin with a crooked smile. "So what? Your plan's to crawl into bed and suffer in the dark?"

"Yes, we normal people usually do that," you replied dryly, annoyed that he somehow wasn’t feeling like total shit. The guy had mixed god knows how many drugs and taken a full-on punch to the face. How was he even still alive?

Rafe scoffed, amused, and motioned toward your bag on the dresser. “Nah, fuck that loser mindset. Grab your stuff and let's go.”

Loser—Seriously, this guy deserved two of Chris’s punches.

"I wasn’t joking when I said I’m not in any shape to work on the project right now," you said.

Rafe tilted his head like you were talking nonsense. “Shit, I’m not deaf. I’m dragging you outside so you can sober up properly.”

OH.

...what?

This week was getting more insane by the fucking day. Because Rafe wanting to spend time with you outside of school-related obligations—EXCUSE ME, WHAT THE FUCK.

No, seriously, you were too stunned to process that, so you had to double-check: “You serious?”

Rafe’s face twisted in irritation, but then he nodded like he’d had a sudden revelation, tapping his temple. “Your brain feeding you bullshit again?”

“What? No, I just—”

“I’m not trying to get you laid at some shady-ass place if that’s what you thought,” he said, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Though honestly, sex might help. Gets your blood flowing and all.”

SOMEONE HELP ME OR WAKE ME UP BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK IS EVEN HAPPENING?!

You blinked, gathered every ounce of strength in your body, and nodded slowly. “Well, thanks for the clarification, I guess, but that didn't even cross my mind. I’m just…” you let out a nervous little laugh. “Don’t you have plans today?”

Rafe shrugged. “It's either this or going to the gym with Kelce, and I’ve already heard more than enough of his lovesick bullshit about Molly and their magical night. So unless you’re planning to gush about some guy from last night too, you can tag along. I’ve got some stuff to take care of anyway.”

The only guy you’d love to gush about was Rafe himself—but yeah, that would only inflate his ego, and the last thing that guy needed was more of that.

“I’m not coming along to a drug deal,” you said, amused, because “stuff” could literally mean anything from getting gas to selling a baggie to some twitchy rando.

Rafe raised a brow and scoffed. “Cute that you think I’d actually bring you along to something like that. Don’t need some chick snitching on me.”

Okay, cool. So you were just some chick again.

No girl, don’t let that get to you, this is just how he is.

“Bold of you to assume I give a damn about what you do in your free time,” you shot back, and Rafe’s lips curled into that signature cocky grin.

He waved lazily toward the stairs. “Shit, shut your bratty mouth and get your ass ready. You’ve got ten minutes.”

You hated being ordered around, but somehow, when it came from Rafe… yeah, you kinda liked it. And unfortunately, him acting like this only made it worse.

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“So where exactly are we going?” you asked, clutching your bag in your lap, stealing a glance at Rafe’s focused profile behind your sunglasses.

It felt weird sitting here in his car again. Familiar, but also different. Hard to put into words. Your head was still buzzing, your stomach still doing flips, and your brain couldn’t even keep up enough to overthink any of this.

Rafe wanting you to tag along with him after literally visiting your house and having lunch with your parents? Yeah, no energy left to spiral about that.

He kept his eyes on the road. “There’s this bio-gym-luxury-nutrition-whatever store Kelce won’t shut up about. They sell weird shit you probably don’t even wanna know the ingredients of, but he gave some to Topper once when he was super hungover and the guy bounced back right after.”

You glanced at him, unimpressed. Probably just some sketchy blend of keratin and caffeine or who knows what.

“I’m not downing some random-ass pills,” you said.

Rafe chuckled. “Figured as much.” He looked at you for a moment. “Nah, I was actually thinking about the smoothies they make. I’ve been there once. Seems pretty legit. Kelce is picky as fuck when it comes to that kind of stuff.”

“Doesn’t every local health shop claim to be legit?” you replied with a raised brow.

“Shit, you wanna get rid of that hangover or not?”

You chuckled and mumbled under your breath, “If you also get rid of that temper.”

“Say that again.” Rafe turned his head slightly.

“Nothing,” you said with a cheeky smile, shifting your gaze out the window at the passing streets.

Your little argument on Kelce’s balcony last night really had done wonders. Finally, you didn’t feel intimidated by Rafe's presence AND your own feelings. You didn’t feel like you had to act a certain way for him to like you.

Because the craziest part? Somehow you'd come to the conclusion that he must like you at least a little. Otherwise, why would he be spending his free time with you? Why would he have stayed on that couch with you last night? Why would he give you any attention at all?

And honestly, you hadn’t even had time to fully process that or what it meant, so all you could do was cling to the moment, and the warm feeling in your chest when you were near him.

A part of you also believed that little balcony moment had helped him too. Or at least opened his eyes a bit. He didn’t seem to get defensive as quickly today.

It felt like… you were finally starting to understand each other. (Or, well, maybe he also saw another chance for a friends-with-benefits-situation in you and that's why he was suddenly acting so openly flirty hahaahhahfuck).

“Shit, who the fuck's annoying me now?” Rafe muttered, snapping you out of your thoughts as his phone started buzzing nonstop in the center console.

He picked it up with a scowl, switching his gaze between the screen and the road.

“Maybe keep your eyes on the road instead of your phone?” you said dryly.

Yeah, it was just a 20 mph zone, but still. No need to tempt fate.

Rafe scoffed and tossed the phone into your lap. “He’s not gonna stop spamming until I answer. Tell that idiot I’ll hit him back later. He needs to stop blowing up my phone.”

You looked at him, startled.

Was he serious? Sure, he'd made it very clear that he didn’t give a shit about privacy a few days ago during that whole Wheezie's sketchbook discussion, but—him trusting you with his actual phone?

Guess he just doesn’t care about that stuff.

You picked up the phone, looked at the unlocked screen—

And your whole body and brain shut down. Because:

WHAT. THE. HELL.

You felt like you’d just seen something you definitely weren’t supposed to see and—WHAT EVEN.

Like okay, you’d seen Kelce’s ripped body just yesterday during that ruthless game of truth or dare, but this? This felt… a little too intimate for some reason. And the fact that Molly got to spend the night with that? Okay, girl. Good for you. Damn.

Also, why the fuck was Kelce saved as Bottom in Rafe’s phone?! You had so many questions. About the pic, about the weird bully-friends-dynamic between Rafe and Kelce, about everything.

“I…” You didn’t even know what to say, your brain short-circuiting. Somehow, the only words that made it out were: “Why is Kelce sending you thirst traps?”

Rafe immediately turned his head toward you as you held the phone up. He relaxed once he saw the pic—which honestly made you wonder what the fuck he’d expected to see.

He turned his focus back to the road. “He’s tracking his gym progress.”

“Clearly taking the grind very seriously,” you muttered, staring at Kelce’s pic.

Okay. Objectively? Those abs were kind of insane.

Rafe scoffed. “Give that shit to me,” he said, reaching for the phone.

You pulled it out of reach, smiling (OKAY GIRL).

“You keep your eyes on the road,” you said with a chuckle.

He shot you a frown. “If I wanted someone drooling over Kelce, I'd have asked him to come along."

But you hadn't, you wanted to say, suddenly feeling very cocky.

“Jealous of his form?” you asked, amused—and a little shocked at your own boldness.

And oh, he was, judging by the way he looked at you like you just insulted his entire existence. But little Mister Ego played it off with another scoff, eyes snapping back to the road.

“Nah. That fucker’s all looks but no real strength behind it.”

“Sure,” you laughed, turning your attention back to the chat. “So what do you want me to reply?”

Rafe shrugged. “Just tell him to shut the fuck up, I’ll text him later.”

Yeah… maybe how about we don't type that in. A little bromance never hurt anybody.

So you decided to come up with your own version of Rafe’s message.

Rafe was definitely going to kill you the moment he saw what you’d just done but honestly? Your head was still too dizzy to care.

Also, it was kinda funny to rile him up because, well, he was a fucking idiot.

And somehow, you found yourself getting... curious. A little too confident, considering the opportunity at hand. And oh no, look at that, your fingers were moving completely on their own.

Oops. Didn’t mean to scroll up and see all those weirdly motivating, bro-y messages between the two of them. Like—how did Rafe publicly bully this guy, but secretly turn around and be weirdly supportive?

And also—

HOLY SHIT.

You just stared. You didn’t even register the messages in the chat at first because OH. MY. GOD.

All of heaven and hell combined couldn’t have prepared you for that photo.

Suddenly, that smoothie Rafe had suggested didn’t seem necessary anymore because this absolute goldmine of a photo had just instantly sobered you up.

Because HOLYMOLYTHOSEARMS.

Sure, you’d seen them—HE WAS SITTING RIGHT BESIDE YOU—and they looked great. But this post-pump version? With the veins and everything, the shirt clinging to his waist, and… let’s just say some very unholy thoughts had hijacked your brain.

He'd been worried about you drooling over Kelce? HAHAHAHA, my guy, with those arms? You could gladly ch—

“Learn to be more subtle if you trynna be nosy.” Rafe’s voice ripped you straight out of your thirst-trap-induced trance.

SHIT.

You immediately looked up, cheeks burning hotter than the actual sun, and locked the phone screen. You hadn’t even realized he’d stopped at a red light, gazing over at you.

The look on his face? The smuggest motherfucking grin you'd ever seen.

Your whole body buzzed with adrenaline, heart rate skyrocketing like a rocket launch.

“I was just…,” you stammered, absolutely mortified, completely failing to find a way to talk your way out of this awkward mess. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be—I just—”

“Shit, just say you were curious and be done with it,” Rafe said, amused, eyes flicking back to the traffic light.

You wanted to evaporate. Just disappear.

“I—no. I mean, yeah. But I didn’t mean to—”

“Jesus Christ, relax.” He chuckled as the light turned green and the car started moving again. “I probably would've done the same. Only difference is, I’d probably find some weird-ass cursed pictures or whatever random shit you keep.”

Strangely, that made you feel a little better. His ability to not make a big deal out of stuff—that was probably what made being around him bearable in the first place, right?

You shook your head with a sheepish smile and placed the phone back into the console. “Still. I’m sorry. It was none of my business.”

“I’m just offended you were drooling over a photo on my phone when I’m literally sitting right here,” Rafe said with a cheeky smile as he pulled into a beachside store parking lot.

DUDE.

Instinctively, your eyes flicked to his arms, but you looked away immediately before he could catch you staring. Again.

“Guess I was too distracted by the fact that you and Kelce send each other thirst traps,” you replied because your brain was fried and you couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Rafe scoffed, bringing the engine to a halt as he parked. Then he turned toward you, brows raised. “You think this is some gay shit or what?”

Ugh. Back to being a dumbass.

“Sure,” you said dryly. “Because being comfortable enough with your male friend automatically makes you gay.” You shot him a look. “It's actually sweet that you two are so supportive of each other. And for the record, that stupid remark was unnecessary.”

Rafe’s brow twitched, and he made the dumbest face like his brain was buffering, probably trying to cook up another smart-ass response. But in the end, he just unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet, and grumbled, “Yeah, yeah, chill out. Now get your ass out of the car.”

This guy was eating at your last nerve. And honestly? You weren’t surprised he’d never had a girlfriend. This dude couldn’t even grasp basic human interaction, how the fuck was he supposed to keep a girl?

But unfortunately, this didn't stop your own feelings from disappearing and you still had the biggest crush on this absolute idiot. And by now, you’d learned not to take his shit too seriously.

You got out of the car, slung your bag over your shoulder, and raised your brows at him. “Just so you know: ‘yeah, yeah’ basically translates to ‘kiss my ass.’”

“Just so you know,” he said, tapping his fingers against his temples, keys chiming with this motion, “you drive me fucking insane.”

Most mature guy on the planet.

That didn't stop your lips from curling into a smile.

Maybe it was just your hungover head finding his dumb behavior amusing. Maybe it was the fact that you could actually get to him like this—that you could make Rafe Cameron lose composure without even trying.

Or maybe… it was that one little line you’d caught earlier in Kelce’s messages. The one where he'd said a chick was driving Rafe crazy? Of course, we don't wanna get ahead of ourselves here, but the voices in your head told you this chick was you (let’s be egocentric for once lolzzzz).

And the fact that you were a potential topic between them in the first place? Made the butterflies in your stomach screech out loud.

But the most scary part of all the recent events and crazy moments, of Rafe’s sudden shift in demeanor toward you: Your delusions slowly started feeling less delusional, and more like ... reasonable assumptions.

Which, in turn, was starting to drive you insane.

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

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cacoetheswriting · 27 days ago

Text

break my heart again | chapter six from right where you left me.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) word count: 6.4K

summary: He realises in that moment how, although you’ve never said anything, you have feelings for him too. Back then, even stronger now. All along. All this time. And Eddie does next what he knows is wrong. He forces your hand — just like he did three years ago, but this time, he’s hoping for a different outcome. That’s all he’s got left. Hope.

content warnings: forced proximity, angsty, slow burn, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, emotional hurt / little comfort, some serious mutual pining, use of pet names, implied intimacy | non-explicit, plus mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, recreational drug use, discusses sobriety, also touches on topics of: death, grief, toxic relationships, gaslighting, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle?, unrequited love — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

2:34AM.

The house is still. Quiet and empty. Everyone is hiding away in their own rooms, trying to get some sleep after a long and exciting day.

Except the house is not still. There’s shouting bouncing between the walls, keeping the group awake. Raised voices coming from one bedroom.

Eddie’s, to be exact.

Ding. Phones illuminate the darkness. The group chat.

Steve: They’ve been arguing for over an hour… Robin: should someone check what’s going on? Robin: not it

Jonathan sends a thumbs down emoji.

Nancy: Let’s leave them alone for a bit longer. Steve: I’m trying to sleep Robin: we’re all trying to sleep, Harrington Nancy: 15 minutes and I’ll go, okay?

Thumbs up reactions fly in. The chat dies down for a moment. Phones get locked, attempts at eavesdropping continue.

Robin: do we know what they’re arguing about? Robin: they looked mighty cosy this evening and now this? Steve: I can take a wild guess Robin: do enlighten us, detective Jonathan: Guys, it’s not our business. Steve: They’re kinda making it our business, Byers Steve: I suspect it’s got something to do with Chrissy Robin: of fucking course

Chrissy has had enough of being made to look like a fool. She felt as though she sacrificed enough for Eddie Munson during their time together and she wanted something in return, for the years she wasted on the metal-head. For all the instances he’d tell her you meant nothing, yet his actions proved otherwise.

Chrissy no longer wanted to be the butt of the joke.

Recording her version of the story, articulating it into words she’s been too afraid to feel, was therapeutic. She should have left it there. Let the past go and find someone who actually cares. But she couldn’t just let it be. Not so deep down, she wanted Eddie to hurt — you’re just collateral damage, a means to an end.

You pressed play without thinking too much about the implications because what could Eddie’s pretty ex-girlfriend possibly want with you. Issue some vague and empty threats, perhaps? Or maybe to tell you something along the lines of ‘good luck, he’s an asshole’ — typical ex-girlfriend stuff.

Only there isn’t anything typical about Chrissy’s message.

Listening to it once should have been enough for you, but no, you had to go and hurt your heart by playing it again and again and again, until the words made even less sense than they did the first time around.

It’s incredibly incriminating, to say the least, and you don’t quite believe that anything Chrissy has said is true, so you let auto-pilot take over and saunter down the hall, towards Eddie’s bedroom.

He opens the door before you even get a chance to knock, as if he knew you were coming. As if he felt your energy gravitate in his direction and he wanted to meet you halfway. A smile reaches his lips, cocky yet soft, and your heart clenches because you desperately want everything to remain on the edge of whatever the hell you two have been doing all day.

“Miss me already, angel?” He quips, arm above his head, resting against the frame.

“We need to talk,” you say and slide under his bicep, stepping inside his safe space.

Eddie shifts, his smile faltering. He gets the sense that he’s not going to like what’s about to come out of your mouth. He swallows a breath and shuts the door with the heel of his foot, a gentle thud vibrating against the floorboards.

“What’s going on?” Concern laced through his tone.

You don’t answer. Not really. Instead, you hold up your phone, the one you’ve been gripping tightly in your hand, imprints left behind on your palm.

Staring at the metal-head, you press play. Chrissy’s voice booms from the speaker and you observe Eddie for any sort of reaction: to prove she’s lying. She has to be lying.

“Okay, ugh. This is so weird,” Chrissy’s note begins. “You don’t have to listen to this. In fact, I half expect you’ve already turned it off because you don’t owe me anything. We were never friends, just friendly. Acquaintances by nature or some shit.”

She pauses. Eddie’s eyes dart between you and the phone. He takes a step forward, but doesn’t try to come any closer to you. Almost as if he knows what his ex-girlfriend is about to say and he feels helpless to stop it.

“Now that you seem to have reconciled with him. There’s something I think you ought to know. Something he definitely won’t tell you since he’s always been quite chickenshit when it comes to the truth and you - separately and combined.”

You play the second voice note, eyes not leaving Eddie’s brown ones for a second.

“Our graduation party. There’s not a lot I know about what happened between you, Eddie, and Steve. He never told me the specifics, but I can piece together a rough picture and I know there was a blowup, one he blamed you for.”

Shuffling in the background indicates she’s on the move as she speaks.

“Listen, I’m not here to make assumptions or whatever. I just think there’s been a certain double standard which you don’t deserve - coming from me, that must feel like a shocker.”

Chrissy chuckles. The voice note ends. You play the next one, but not before Eddie says your name which makes your insides curl.

“After you fought for everyone at the party to hear, and after Eddie took you home, I don’t know if you know that he came back. I found him ruffling through the bushes. I suppose he was looking for something, although he never told me what. He never told me much when it came to you.”

Your free hand lands on the guitar pick around your neck.

“Well, I invited him in.”

“Angel—”

“Eddie, shut up.” You interrupt, voice quavering because now, seeing the downcast expression on his face, you know what Chrissy is about to say next is true.

The note continues.

“I’ll spare you the details. We slept together. Bet Eddie would never tell you that, huh? He’s all high and mighty about whatever you did with Steve earlier that very same night, when in reality he’s not much better.”

A pause for dramatic effect.

“Then, word spreads that you’ve skipped town and Eddie comes around more often. I asked about you, you know? I asked if he told you about what we did because I’m not stupid, I know there’s always been something between the two of you, and I didn’t want to step on any toes in case you came back. All he did was shrug and say you didn’t deserve to know anything from him anymore.”

Tears wet your lashes.

“Talk about being a conniving asshole.”

In the last, shortest note, she adds, “Sorry you had to find out this way.”

With the click of a thumb, you lock your phone and go back to gripping it, tight. Anger seeps through your fingers, although that’s where it starts and ends. The rest of you feels borderline numb — which usually drives you to drink. You hate yourself for this setback, but more so for allowing this in the first place. For getting caught up in Eddie’s forgiveness and his laugh, his touches and kisses, his promises of a better tomorrow.

The sham is clear. Chrissy spelled it out in her voice notes.

Eddie Munson gave you hell for kissing Steve then jumped into bed with the blonde Cunningham. Whatever. He needed someone to make him feel better. That’s not what irks you.

What hurts the most is the radio silence that followed beyond the night. The years of no contact.

What hurts the most is allowing you to think everything was your fault. For allowing you to isolate yourself from your friends, your home. For letting you stew in misery, thinking you hurt him beyond repair.

“I was going to tell you,” Eddie says, taking another step in your direction. “I swear, angel. I-I just didn’t know how to go about it.”

You scoff although your voice wobbles as you say, “Well, thank god for your ex-girlfriend.”

Eddie’s now an arm-length away.

“Look, I-I know this looks bad, but this doesn’t have to change anything,” he half-pleads. “I mean, we dated after, so it’s not like—”

“Like me and Steve?” You interrupt in disbelief at this entire situation. “I thought we moved past that.”

“We did,” he agrees with a shake of the head. “Fuck! I-I am just trying to say how what happened between me and Chrissy is different.”

Slowly, you nod. “Right, because that explains it so much better.”

“Angel—”

“You think I’m mad because you had sex with her?”

He seems shaken by your question which answers it immediately.

“Eddie, I don’t give a shit about who you sleep with. Chrissy, those horny moms that listen to your radio show, whoever else.” You tell him, “I’m upset because I went years believing everything that happened to us was my goddamn fault!”

The yell slips and he flinches, not expecting such ferocity.

Eddie left you to your own guilt and that’s his prerogative. The secrets however, they hurt. First the Billy thing, and now this. And imagining how different things could have been if you knew all this information sooner makes you want to scream.

“You keep secrets, Eddie. Billy and this, and you fail to realise how these secrets impacted me and my decisions!” You accuse. “What’s worse, we had a heart to heart last night, which would have been a good opportunity to tell me about this thing with Chrissy, but you chose yourself over me, again.”

“That’s not fair,” he says. “You still left, remember? You didn’t have to do that. You could have stayed and we uh, we could have tried to work it out—”

“I left because of you!”

Something snaps then. The last string of forging forward.

“Okay, I don’t like the accusation when you’re the one who made out with my friend.” Eddie goes on defence.

“Jesus! How many times are you going to make me apologise?” You throw your arms up with the question. “I was drunk and sad. My best friend—” You point to the metal-head. “— just told me he had feelings for me at quite literally the worst possible time and I wasn’t ready to…”

The sentence fades as you shake your head. “No. You don’t get to say anything about me kissing Steve anymore because you forgave me, remember?”

He’s staring at you. Hands formed into fists at his sides.

The argument bounces back-and-forth like this. You’re hurt. He’s hurt. Neither of you willing to back down first because there’s a whole lot more to lose now than there ever was before — boundaries crossed, all those kisses and whatever the fuck they mean.

“Do the others know?” You ask, breaking a tension filled moment of silence.

Eddie shakes his head.

You smack your lips together. “That tells me you’re ashamed, which means you know what you did is wrong.”

“What do you want me to say?!” He half-shouts, feeling agitated and defeated all at the same time.

“You still haven’t said you’re sorry,” you answer, softer, sadder.

Eddie’s heart clenches. He can see the hurt behind your eyes, hear it in your voice. He should have apologised, but you came in hot and he felt blindsided — not like that’s a good enough excuse, although maybe it is considering some forty-eight hours ago, you two were hating each other.

Well, he didn’t hate you. Never ever. Quite the opposite in fact, all this time.

“I'm sorry, okay.” Eddie says eventually. “I am really fucking sorry.”

“If only that wasn’t so forced.”

He sighs. “We’re going in circles here, angel.”

And the argument starts again. At this point, it feels stupid, but there’s a gnawing inside your chest that’s not allowing you to let this shit go.

“You let me believe you were broken over me.”

“I was!” Eddie shouts. “What happened with Chrissy has nothing to do with how I feel about you, goddamn it!”

You blink. Feel, he said. However, not even a split-second passes to let you dwell on the word and his use of it because Eddie continues with his rant.

“The facts are, you left. Despite whatever I said or did, and whatever you said or did. At the end of the day, you still left! And maybe I am a shitty person, shitty friend, for not reaching out and not telling you about getting with Chrissy that same night, fucking sue me!”

The metal-head approaches you as he speaks. He stops only when he’s toe to toe, hovering over you, demanding eye contact.

“I was heartbroken and I chose to react how I did to help me get over you!”

He fucked up, he knows, but you’re no better either. There’s been years of miscommunication and hidden information; that’s hard to fix over a few days.

“Eddie…” You whisper his name and search his gaze for absolution. An ending to this whole debacle.

“Which frankly, is a tough fucking thing to do,” he adds and clenches his jaw in anticipation of what you’re going to tell him next.

But you don’t get to reply. You don’t even have a minute for his admission to settle because his phone starts intensely vibrating on the bedside table.

Hanging his head, Eddie walks towards it and after glancing over his shoulder at you, a sad look on his face, he reads the texts that are coming into the group chat.

He types.

Eddie: We’re fine. Steve: Sure doesn’t sound like it, dude Steve: Heard my name a couple of times… Eddie: It’s fine. Robin: liar

He slips his phone into the back pocket of his jeans with a sigh, and as he turns back around, he says: “I’m sorry, angel. For my part, I am.”. But you’re not there anymore.

The door to his bedroom is wide open. You must’ve slipped out in the split-second he paid attention to his phone instead of what truly mattered.

He follows, looking for you. When he finds you outside, sitting on the lawn and staring ahead at the lake, you tell him you want to be alone. Eddie says he knows, yet plops down next to you because he’s not making the same mistake he did three years ago. He’s not letting you retreat and run away when he just got you back.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says earnestly, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes.

“So you’ve said,” you reply, choosing to focus on the reflection of the stars in the dark water.

He sighs. “You don’t make things easy, you know.”

“So you’ve said,” you repeat.

Suddenly, he’s in front of you. Parting your legs, so he can slide in between. His own knees bump your arms, keeping you in place, no escape, as his hands delicately grip your face and force you to meet his sad brown gaze.

“I should’ve fought for you.”

Not a simple sentence whatsoever. Hard to say, hard to hear. The words settle around you, within you. They hold your heart. Squeeze it and let the blood pour until you’re faint.

The weight of this is bigger than anything he’s ever said to you. Eddie knows this too. He feels the way your body sags in his embrace. How you’ve seemingly stopped breathing.

He realises in that moment how, although you’ve never said anything, you have feelings for him too. Back then, even stronger now. All along. All this time.

And Eddie does next what he knows is wrong. He forces your hand — just like he did three years ago, but this time, he’s hoping for a different outcome. That’s all he’s got left. Hope.

“I should’ve fought for you because I-I don’t think I’ve ever stopped… feeling things for you.”

“Eddie.”

“And I-I think the problem all along has been your fear of reciprocating anything real.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, “Or maybe you’re just trying to find another reason, another excuse, to push me away so you don’t have to face what’s been in front of you all along. Me.”

He kisses you before the words fully escape his plump mouth. The fight’s not over. The argument, simply put on hold. His lips trace yours, then travel along your jaw and down your neck. He reaches your collarbone and kisses there too, slow and steady.

He wants to hear you say it. Admit the feelings you’ve been harbouring.

His movement is methodical. His hands now on your waist, splayed fingers digging into your lower back as he bites your flesh, coaxing a moan from your parted lips.

“Eddie,” you breathe, “This doesn’t fix anything.”

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

But you don’t. In fact, you lean forward.

“But we’re not having sex,” you mutter against his parted lips.

“Okay,” he breathes.

“And this doesn’t fix anything.”

“You already said that, angel.”

Since you have no further rebuttals — actually, you have plenty, but all you can think about right now is how much you want him.

Sure, the circumstances could be better, but fact remains. You want him to touch you and make you forget, make you feel better. Make you happy. And you want to return the favour, out on the grass, under the cover of darkness, because if nothing else, at least you’ll both have this moment.

3:17AM

Steve: It’s oddly quiet……… Nancy: Maybe they went to sleep? Jonathan: Exactly what we should be doing too.

He follows with a frown emoji, to which Harrington reacts with a thumbs down.

Robin: they’re not in their rooms Robin: and yes, I went to check because that’s what good friends do Jonathan: Not our business. Steve: The cars are still here, so they must be somewhere on the property Jonathan: Guys, seriously. Nancy: We should all go to sleep. Robin: fine Robin: but if they’re still missing in the morning, I won’t be the one talking to the cops Nancy: I’m sure they’re both fine. Steve: They’re in the backyard….. Robin: oh? Steve: They’re fine

He wraps the conversation up with a winky face and locks his phone. The rest of the group do the same, only after Robin sends one last message: “fucking finally”.

Finally.

That’s what you’d say to describe this moment too.

As Eddie’s hands gently slide under your top, as he works his lips along your jawline, as you tug his brown locks in your fingers, as he lay you down on the grass and wedged his denim-clad knee in between your thighs, finally is the thought that definitely crosses your mind.

Until it doesn’t.

“Eddie,” you mutter his name.

“Yes, baby?” He’s kissing down your neck, excruciatingly slow.

You exhale, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, turned on, but also nervous for his reaction to what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“What are we doing?”

He smirks against your skin. You can feel the twitch of his lips against that soft spot you didn’t even know you had until the metal-head found it.

“We’re not having sex,” he replies, teasing with your earlier comment.

The corners of your own lips twitch upwards involuntary. Happy, content. He’s funny. He likes you. Why is the devil on your shoulder trying to ruin this good thing?

“No.” Pressing your forehead to his, gently pushing away, you continue, “What are we doing?”

Slowly, the metal-head lifts his head, catching your gaze with his own. The gentle moonlight glow illuminates his face.

“There’s a lot riding against us,” you say. “And it doesn’t help that we’ve been avoiding this conversation.”

“What conversation?” He questions, although he already knows the answer.

“Eddie,” you whine. “We can’t keep pretending.”

Brows furrowed, he drops his hand to your lap, interlocking your fingers together. He squeezes once, twice, then swallows his breath. Nervous. A ticking time-bomb, this thing between you. That’s how he’d describe it. A lot of questions and excuses, not a lot of decisiveness out of fear, mainly.

“Pretending?” He ponders.

“Pretending it doesn’t hurt every time we look at one another,” you explain, “Pretending. everything is fine and we’re just two people who used to be friends.”

Eddie sighs. “That’s bullshit.”

And his lips are back on yours. Softer this time. A loving kiss. A loaded kiss. Making you forget why you were nervous in the first place because despite everything, he’s here and as are you. Together. Feeling… things. Liking each other. That should be enough.

Right?

Wrong.

Birds chirping and a cool breeze stir the brunette awake. He sits immediately because the first thing Eddie notices is how he’s alone — which is not how things ended at the ungodly hour of the night.

In the aftermath of a lovestruck haze, you fell asleep in his arms, but now you’re gone and dread spills into his gut.

Pulling his T-shirt over his bare torso, Eddie is on his feet and rushing toward the house. Inside, Steve throws him a look, a cup of coffee barely hiding the knowing smirk.

“Some night, huh?”

But Eddie ignores his friend. He’s got no time to entertain the teasing of it all. He needs to find you first.

“Fuck off, Harrington.” Eddie grumbles, albeit growing red as a beet.

Steve snorts a laugh, shakes his head, and dips out the back door to enjoy the rest of his morning coffee.

Eddie resumes his search.

The living areas are all deserted. Quiet. Upstairs, he checks his own room first, the common bathroom, and when they too prove vacant, he rushes down the hall until he reaches the door of the last place you could be.

He knocks. Once, twice. There’s no answer and his anxiety spikes. Calling your name, he helps himself inside. Also empty.

Worse. There’s no sign of you whatsoever.

Eddie circles the room, slowly. The bed is made. En-suite clear of any lotions and bottles alike. Hesitantly, he opens the wardrobe, only to find nothing at all. Free hangers and unoccupied shelves. Your suitcase is also gone.

Something catches the metal-heads eye. A singular item left behind. The plushy he won you at the fair. He reaches for it, then stops abruptly because a sound coming from downstairs catches his attention instead. The entryway. Hinges open, close.

Your laughter.

Hastily, Eddie grabs the toy and rushes out of the room. He stops at the top of the stairs when his wide gaze lands on the girl he was sure left him behind — again.

“You’re here?” He half asks, half says.

Your head snaps in his direction and a timid smile graces your features.

“Good morning.”

“You’re here,” Eddie repeats, stepping down the steps, until he’s an arms length away from you.

“Where else would I be?”

“Your room is empty,” he points out, then lifts the plushy in his hands, “This is the only thing that was left.”

You reach for the toy, but grab his hands instead. Fingers interlocking together and you squeeze.

“I packed up my car. The rabbit must’ve fallen out of my bag.” Slowly, you pull his knuckles to your chest.

He nods, once. Slowly.

“I-I just thought maybe you… The whole Chrissy thing and what I said last night…”

“Yeah, we should definitely talk before we leave today,” you say and offer him another smile.

Eddie takes it in, the twist of your lips, and relaxes slightly, but there’s a look in your eyes he can’t quite place. A certain detachment. He wants to ask you about it. He wants to double check that you’re okay because he doesn’t quite believe that you are. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get a chance because you slip away from him, into the kitchen where seemingly the rest of the group has now gathered.

The detachment is intentional. You’re just unaware that Eddie picked up on it. He wasn’t supposed to.

Truthfully, when you woke up this morning, tangled in his limbs on the hard grass, your insides curled with panic.

The metal-head kind of predicted it himself, with what he said. You’re afraid of falling. Love and other good things. You don’t want to feel them because they’ve hurt you before and he knows that. Which is why your instinct is to leave. Run to Las Vegas and forget about Eddie Munson once and for all. You can’t keep stringing him along forever.

You were almost free and clear, driving away without any goodbyes, when Nancy caught you.

She saw the look in your eyes and understood immediately because it’s the same look that you shared with her three years ago, when she told you to leave.

This time however, the Wheeler girl is telling you to stay. “At least say goodbye,” she says and you nod. “It’s the right thing to do.”

All through breakfast, you workshop a list of pros and cons to the internal turmoil of leave with Eddie or leave alone.

The Munson boy is staring at you from across the table and his deep brown gaze makes it all that much harder to think. Thoughts of he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve this, turn to, don’t leave him, don’t leave him, don’t leave. But no good will come of you staying, that’s what the devil is telling you. The dark part of yourself.

“This was a really good weekend,” Robin announces with a smile. “Thank you for organising, Nance. You’re the best.”

Steve lifts his mug. “To Nancy.”

“To Nancy,” the group echoes, you included.

“To us,” the brunette girl says instead.

Your gaze locks with Eddie’s and your heart drops. You don’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever. So maybe him coming with you to Vegas is a bad idea, because it’ll be that much more difficult to inevitably say goodbye?

His words echo in your mind: “Maybe you’re just trying to find another reason, another excuse, to push me away so you don’t have to face what’s been in front of you all along. Me.”, and despite the sinking sensation, you plaster on a smile and repeat Nancy’s sentiment, eyes not straying from the mahogany across from you for even a second.

“How about we each say what our favourite part of this trip has been?” Robin suggests, “Eddie, why don’t you kick us off?”

The metal-head swallows. He forces himself to look away from you, towards the remainder of the group and nods.

“Uhm. Sure.” He clears his throat. “I uh, I had fun at the fair.”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers because that would reveal too much to your friends. Although, judging by the snickers coming from Steve’s end of the table, they already know a lot more than they’re letting on.

“Good start,” Robin says and you can hear the smirk in her voice. “Who wants to go next?”

Argyle puts himself forward. He says he enjoyed canoeing the most and the whole table, minus you and Eddie, barks out in laughter. Jonathan reminds his friend that he never joined them on the lake, he was afraid, and Argyle disagrees.

“That doesn’t sound like me, dude.” He drawls.

The group continues to laugh.

“Okay, okay,” Steve interjects, ceasing his chortles. “My favourite moment was cutting onions that very first night.”

Your eyes snap in Harrington’s direction and for the first time all morning, the smile on your face doesn’t feel forced.

“Don’t be cute,” you tease.

Steve rolls his eyes. “What can I say, sweetheart. I loved reconnecting with you.”

“That’s been my favourite too,” Robin chimes.

“Guys, stop,” you force, getting slightly choked up about this sentimental moment you’ve found yourself in. “These feel like cop-out answers.”

“What’s yours then?” Robin asks.

You hesitate. There’s been a lot. Some bad moments too, although the good outweigh them. Eddie is at the top of your mind. Making out in the lake. Later, dry humping (etc.) on the grass. A burn in your cheeks at the sudden flashes of memory.

“It’s all been really nice,” is what you settle on.

Robin rolls her eyes. “Right, ‘cause that’s not a cop-out answer.” She huffs, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Nice,” Steve repeats. “I guess bumpin’ naughties—”

“Well,” Jonathan interrupts, “I agree. It’s all been really nice.”

You flash him a grateful smile and he tips his head in your direction. A way of expressing ‘don’t worry about it’ behind the look he’s sporting.

“Me too,” Nancy adds.

“You guys are no fun,” Robin half-whines. “Only Eddie understood the assignment, and even he’s not being a hundred percent truthful.”

“I am,” the metal-head speaks. “Being truthful, that is. I really liked the fair.”

Robin smiles at him. “I know, dude. But I also know you guys did something salacious last night,” she says, pointing between you and the brunette across from you, “And I would’ve thought that’s the favourite moment.”

“Robin!” Nancy breathes in shock.

“We… I-I…” You stammer, searching for the right thing to say since there’s no use in denying it.

“That’s none of your business,” Eddie huffs for the both of you.

“I told them that,” Jonathan says.

“Oh come on,” Steve laughs, “It’s not a big deal. We’re just happy for you two. It’s been a long time coming.”

Hesitantly, you look back at Eddie. His own gaze is fixated on the ceiling above, head resting on the edge of the chair. He’s thinking about that detached look on your face. How can he share the same energy as his friends when you feel like you’ve already slipped away?

“So, are you guys like, together?” Argyle asks innocently, pushing the conversation along. “Congrats either way, my dudes.”

You want the ground to swallow you up whole. For all the talking you’ve done with the metal-head, you’ve not discussed a lot about what any of this means. The plan was to do so last night, before Chrissy’s voice notes. Plans shift. Mere moments ago, you said you’d talk before it’s time to go. You certainly didn’t think you’d be having this conversation in front of / thanks to your friends.

“We’re not together,” you say, blinking the embarrassment away, and the whole table looks at you. Including Eddie, whose lips part as if to say something different.

And he does.

“We uhm,” the metal-head clears his throat. “We actually haven’t talked about it.”

“Not for lack of trying” You mean it as a whisper, for no one in particular to hear. It comes out a little more intense than that.

Eddie leans forward. A snap judgement.

“You really want to do this here?” He asks quietly.

“Okay,” Robin chimes, “Guys, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, the dryness becoming unbearable. “All the arguing last night, and one reason we didn’t talk, would be my ex-girlfriends fault.”

Steve shouts, “I knew it!”, while you flutter your eyes closed. Breathing in, then out.

Last night. You decide, a little too late, that last night would’ve been a good idea to finish the argument. Wrap this cursed graduation party topic up, once and for all.

Instead, you gave into deep confessions and Eddie’s beautiful chocolate-button eyes, his light touches and the sensation of his lips on yours.

The group is chattering. They’re pressing Eddie for more details on what his hell-of-an ex did this time. He’s trying his best to fend them off: intentions may be innocent, but it’s none of their business. Unfortunately, he’s not having much luck.

Eventually, he cracks.

“I slept with her.”

Opening your eyes at that moment, you look at him again. His attention is already on you. Apologetic, sad.

“Well, duh, dude,” Robin begins, “You dated her. We kinda assumed you boinked.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Before,” he says, pauses. You can see him swallow his nerves. “The night of the graduation party.”

Silence stretches across the table.

And then you realise something.

You have to leave. Alone.

The flight to Vegas, and everything in between, cannot happen. How can you entertain the idea of falling for someone who, aside from wild confessions, doesn’t want to talk things through?

He too is always finding an exit strategy. Later, later, later. Eddie says later and nothing happens because there’s something different that gets in the way. His own excuses since he too is afraid to get hurt.

“Dude,” Steve begins, “That’s like…”

“It’s fine,” you chime. “That’s one of the things we actually did talk about. Not completely, but more than other stuff. ‘Cause we’ve done a lot of catching up, but uh, it’s all been very surface level.”

“Surface level?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

“Aside from Chrissy’s confession, we haven’t talked about anything real, Eddie.” You continue. “And we probably won’t because one of us will always find an excuse. Plus, there’s just too many other variables that make things difficult and as nice as this weekend has been,” you pause, heart hammering inside your chest, “We should stop kidding ourselves.”

His jaw locks into place.

“If that’s how you feel,” he says, monotone.

You nod, then blatantly lie. “That’s how I feel.”

Eddie stands. Chair sliding, falling backwards with force. He leaves before anyone else can add to the shitsorm that’s just transpired. Steve follows after his friend, shooting you an apologetic glance before he leaves. Robin and Nancy are suddenly on either side of you. The blonde telling you how she’s sorry for pushing this topic and the brunette reminding you that this doesn’t have to end. You freeze their voices out. Focusing on only one thing: the heartbreak in Eddie’s eyes as you spoke the words you didn’t mean.

Only a few seconds, you think, that’s all it ever takes to ruin a good thing.

After breakfast, you don’t care to stay much longer.

Itching instead, to get back to Fort Wayne. See your mom. Cry about everything while she hugs you. Maybe you’ll stay there a couple of days. Call in sick to work. Fake an emergency. Have her piece you back together. Maybe, while you’re with her, you’ll change your mind— No.

One by one, the group exchange goodbyes. Quick and long hugs. Promises of staying in touch. Some tears. A lot of pained laughter.

Robin says she’ll call every day and she’ll see you soon, for her girlfriend's birthday bash.

Nancy reassures her and Jonathan will also plan a trip to see you, and once again tells you about the room at her future house with your name on it. You stifle a sniffle and embrace her for a second too long.

Jonathan offers some wisdom. The silent killer, Jonathan Byers. A man of very few words yet, as you have come to experience, they’re somehow always the right ones. His hug is quick and you appreciate that about him. No mushy things needed.

Argyle announces loud and proud how it’s been nice to meet you, get to know you. “Likewise,” you tell him honestly and exchange a fistbump.

Steve’s next on the goodbye train. This hug you don’t particularly want to let go of. His strong arms hold you tightly, as if he’s trying to take away all of your worries and pain. In a hushed whisper, he apologises for what happened earlier and says how he only wants you to be happy — a sentiment not so dissimilar to the first conversation you had together this weekend. You place a soft kiss on his cheek and tell him you love him, because it’s true. He smiles, forehead pressed to your own.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Platonically, the feeling is not as scary.

When you break apart, you glance between the group and a lump forms in your throat. These are the best people you have ever met and reconnecting with them this weekend is what really matters, at the end of the day.

This group, plus Eddie.

Because Eddie is currently not here. He didn’t come to say goodbye.

And as you stride down to your car, glancing over your shoulder one last time, at your friends, at the house, you feel a thousand times worse for wear.

Until the front door opens with a violent shake.

Eddie comes into view. He’s got a wild expression on his face as he barrels down the front porch steps, then the gravel which crunches underneath his sneakers.

He pushes through your mutual group of friends and doesn’t stop his pace until he’s face-to-face with you, peering down into your surprised eyes, slightly breathless.

“It’s not been surface level,” he says.

“Eddie,” you begin, but his thumb is suddenly pressed against your bottom lip and you stop dead in your tracks.

“I’ve been head over heels in love with you for a very long time, angel.” Eddie states, a nervous tick in his voice because you don’t do well with proclamations, but he’s not going to let you leave this time.

(Never. Again.)

“Long before this weekend, definitely over the last three years, and before the graduation party, before Billy. Probably, actually,” he swallows, “I’ve been in love with you since the very first time I saw you.”

Tears brim the corners of your eyes as the metal-head continues.

“And I know there’s a lot we haven’t talked about and a lot we need to figure out, but this thing we have, baby, I’ll be damned if I let you get in that car right now thinking that all we’ve done is surface level.”

“Eddie,” you try again.

He shakes his head. “Unless you’re going to tell me you’re staying to have a proper conversation, the one I owed you yesterday, I don’t want to hear it.”

Someone — Robin — shouts, “Kiss him, you fool.” and the rest of the group snickers. Well, Argyle and Steve snicker, while Jonathan and Nancy remprimend the lot.

Then they lead them back into the house, leaving you with this boy who is wildly in love with you, and who you perhaps love back, but how can you even begin to tell him that, since the last time you uttered those words, they were to someone who died.

“Please, angel.” Eddie pleads.

You open your mouth, then close it just as fast, chewing instead, on the inside of your cheek for what feels like eternity. In reality, it’s only a split-second while your brain works out what to do.

When you lean forward, inhaling his breath, his scent, him, you don’t intend to kiss him. You do anyway. Softly, tenderly.

And suddenly, your arms are around his neck and his hands are on your waist. He’s pinning you to the side of the car and his knee is wedged between your thighs. Your fingers pull his brunette locks and he bites your bottom lip, hungry, needy, pleading for something else entirely than a conversation.

“Okay,” you mutter against his parted lips, “Let’s talk.”

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

@ali-r3n @thelazyarchangel @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @peculiarwren @fxoxo @losingmygrasponreality @kellsck @sp1dyb0y1008 @mmmunson @somethingvicked @darknesseddiem @scream4mami @pineapplechuncks @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @emxxblog @bl0ssomanddie @theladyhellfire @gracelouiseoneill @emquinn94 @transparent-enemy @rach5ive @knew-better-forever-girl-two @lemonmarquee @mossgh0st @probablyin-bed @dustbowleddie @residentoftomlinsonsass @heart-eyed-love @munsonburn3r @helsa3942 @althaiareads @theladyhellfire @v1per1ne @sugarplumsweetiepie @rizzraa @micheledawn1975 @gracelouiseoneill @moremaple @bigpoppascherry @jeangeniex @daisy-munson @ceeezy @kissmyacdc @cyressluvy @mango-slush-boba @iyskgd @bigpoppascherry @everlove @tieganspeirs

#okay friends before you get mad: there will be another chapter!#right where you left me.#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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kesujo · 2 months ago

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Chapter 15: Let's Try This

Previous chapter here.

After waking up a few times at the sensation of Irene guiding his cock back inside her, when he finally woke up the following morning, Irene was already awake, lightly grinding against his morning wood.

“Irene…?”

“Hm?” Irene directed her gaze up at Parker, greeting him with a slight smile. “Morning.” The honey-smooth, soothing quality of her voice was slightly strained, and looking at her face, Parker could tell why. “Turns out, you were right. I am soo sore down there.”

Parker scoffed. “Wha—then, why didn’t you take me out?”

“Well, I told you I would do it, and I’m a woman of my word.”

“At the expense of your own comfort and safety?”

“It’s a matter of pride, Parker.” Parker had been so preoccupied with the woman whose pussy was still squeezing his erection that he had forgotten about the other woman on the bed next to them. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But, seriously, Irene, if it’s so uncomfortable, you should get off now, right? Especially now that I’m awake.”

Irene pouted. “But, it’s such a waste of such wonderful morning wood…”

“Don’t worry, Rene, I got it.”

Jessica ended up just giving him a blowjob while Irene stood at the side, nursing the soreness in her groin while watching, and proceeding to spend most of the rest of the day recovering from the previous night at Parker’s place before heading out after dinner. A few days later, Tiffany showed up at Parker’s place, upon her insistence to ‘explain things’, as she stated.

Personally, Parker didn’t feel a need to pry: after all, they technically weren’t even dating yet, and even if they were, the kind of ‘weird’ Tiffany’s kink was, to Parker, was no stranger than the weirdness Jessica had accustomed him to. Parker briefly pondered how, in such a relatively short span of time, even such things as a cuckolding kink didn’t particularly phase him, and then he thought about how often he’s had a nearly identical train of thought in the last few weeks.

“Um…”

Now that they were in front of each other, Tiffany was considerably shier. It was understandable too—Tiffany probably didn’t intend on informing him about this tidbit about herself for some time, and now that she was thrust into this position, albeit in part by herself, she was in this position: sat on his couch, eyes directed at her twiddling thumbs, red-faced.

“It’s ok, Tiffany. I won’t judge you. If you don’t want to say any more, that’s also fine.”

“No! I—…” Tiffany sighed, then took a deep breath, nodding to herself, and continued, “…sorry you didn’t hear it from me first. I … I don’t really know why I’m like this, and I can’t really explain it either, but … I mean, I trust you a lot, and I’m only like this with a man I trust a lot—I mean, not that you’re, like, with me or anything—”

“Tiffany.” The stammering woman stopped at the firm, gentle call of her name. “Shall we make this easier, then?”

“Huh?”

“I would be more than happy to be considered ‘being with you’.”

It took Tiffany a while to process Parker’s words, and even more time for her to clasp her hands over her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh my—are-are you sure?!”

Parker could only smile at that. “Why wouldn’t I be, Tiff?”

The dam of tears shattered, and Tiffany flung herself at Parker. “I-I-I-I, I, I would, I would—” Completely unable to finish her sentence due to the sobs that are erupting from her, Parker wrapped his arms around the shaking woman. He understood being happy, but … this? It feels a little over the top. Was he thinking too deeply about this?

“I’m not going anywhere, Tiff.” Maybe it was just the sheer euphoria of seeing Tiffany’s positive reaction to the question that was clouding his judgement.

“Thank you, thank you so much, I’m—I’m, I’m so relieved…”

“Tiffany…” No, he was right. It wasn’t just some small issue. Was it something he did? But then, why was Tiffany hugging him and crying like this? “…what’s wrong?” If Parker didn’t ask, he wouldn’t feel good about himself, or about any of this.

“I’m sorry, it’s stupid…”

“No, it’s not stupid, Tiffany. I’m sure it’s perfectly valid.” Her sobs had reduced to sniffles, but still, Tiffany planted her face into the crook of his neck. “It’s ok, Tiffany. I’m here for you. I won’t judge you. If it’s you, I’m sure it’s extremely understandable, what you’re feeling.”

“Sorry…”

“It’s ok. Take your time.”

Tiffany took a few more seconds to calm down before responding. “It’s just … I was so scared … that, um…” Parker stayed patient, continuing to gently stroke her hair, wordlessly waiting for her to finish her thought, “…that … you would find it so weird … that you … you, you would, that you wouldn’t like me anymore…”

In a way, Parker could see Tiffany’s point: if he were told that most people wouldn’t want to date someone who had such a kink, Parker wouldn’t have much trouble believing it. But, on the other hand, he couldn’t really empathize with it at all: if anything, it’s a massive relief to him, what with the competition with Jessica and Hunter and all. For a woman like Tiffany, it was all but given that Parker would accept such a minor quirk.

“I don’t, Tiffany. I still love you just as much as before.”

It took a good few minutes for Tiffany to calm down after that, but with a sufficient amount of tissues, she had regained her composure and continued where she left off. “Well, so, I was saying, um, that I’m only like this if the man I’m with is someone I trust absolutely, and I know that you’re not, um, emotionally attached with the other woman or anything. Something like that.” It was clear that Tiffany was beginning to waffle, but Parker’s steady gaze and encouraging nod prompted her to continue. “I … to be honest, I don’t really know. For some reason, I simultaneously find the idea of my man having s—having, um, you know, with another woman—or, I mean, a woman I also trust, like Jessica or Irene—but also want to know that my man won’t cheat on me, or leave me for her. I know it’s weird, but for me, I mean, I’m … well, I like the man I’m attracted to, and as a woman, I like my man in that way too, so … I don’t know, I only know it’s weird because I’ve picked up on it over the years, but to me, it makes sense.”

What a complicated set of conditions for Tiffany’s kink to activate, all of which just happened to be met in Parker’s circumstance. Or, perhaps another way to think about it is that it’s only because these conditions are met that he even got to know Tiffany this well in the first place. The thing that Parker took away most from that, though, was that Tiffany seemed to trust him a lot—so much, in fact, that she was confident that he would stay loyal to her even before he was her boyfriend. Knowing that reassured Parker even more about Tiffany, but still, he couldn’t shake away one thing.

“But…” the reaction Parker got from Tiffany was definitely not what he was expecting. Her body seemed to tense, as if readying herself for something. But what? “…no, I mean, I just…” it seemed to get worse the more Parker talked, and that put him more on edge. Was he saying something wrong? “…um, I don’t know. I just feel bad, still.”

“Wh-Wh-Why?”

“Tiffany, are you ok?” Parker reached out, tenderly grabbing her hand. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Huh? What? No! I’m ok. Why?”

Was this just a misunderstanding? “I—…I was just saying, it still feels wrong, and now that you’re officially my girlfriend now, I … I don’t know, even if I know you’re ok with it, it still feels like … you know, continuing in the competition with Jessica isn’t something I should be doing.”

“Oh!” At the very least, it was a relief to see the tension in Tiffany’s body disappear. What it was he said, Parker had no idea. “That’s what you meant. No, you don’t have to feel bad! I mean, it’s not like you’re in love with Jessica or anything.”

“Pfft.”

Tiffany turned to Parker with wide eyes, letting out a surprised chuckle. “What?!”

“Sorry.”

“That’s not very nice to Hunter! I’ll tell him you laughed at the idea of being in love with his wife!”

“Well, Hunter’s, you know, Hunter. Those two are crazy.”

“…oh. Is he?”

“Yeah. You know, super-high achieving, really intense. Work hard, play hard. Right?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. So is Jessica, now that I think about it.”

“They’re made for each other, right?” Tiffany nodded. “Yeah, but not for me. I want to be able to chill sometimes.”

“Yeaah, I know what you mean!”

Tiffany shared some stories about the times Tiffany had to bring a completely-crashed-out Jessica home after partying a little too hard, but Parker was feeling a little better about the whole situation. Still…

“So, we’ve established that I already am dealing with too much Jessica as is, but…”

“Um!” It was clear Tiffany had an idea but immediately realized it was a bad one, especially with how quickly the tips of her ears turned pink. “… I … if you really feel bad, I, um … I-I-I, I can show you…”

“Hm? Show me what?” Tiffany pulled out her phone, and as Parker watched her navigate to the gallery, it became clear what she meant. “Um! First, please don’t…”

Gosh, was Tiffany so insanely adorable. “I’ll still love you, no matter what you’re about to show me.”

Although Parker had a good idea what Tiffany wanted to show him, seeing it was still a little jarring. “I, um … Irene sent me these, and I, um…” with every syllable, Tiffany’s voice got quieter, and her face redder, although Parker couldn’t tell if it was because of how embarrassed she was or how hot she was getting at seeing these pictures, of his cock buried deep in Irene’s pussy. “…I saved them. Immediately.”

The following silence that elapsed, Parker could tell Tiffany’s face was just becoming redder and redder. So, for a lack of anything better to say, Parker went with, “…so, you’re saying that, as long as I send you pictures every time, it’s ok?”

“Parker!” Parker laughed as Tiffany slapped his shoulder, her face erupting into an even deeper shade of red. “…but, if you really don’t mind …”

Parker somehow heard Tiffany saying those words quietly, and when he did, his laughter intensified.

“You-You promised not to laugh!”

“I said that I’d still love you no matter what, which I still do. I’m just … just, really relieved.”

“Hmph. Never mind.”

“Don’t be like that, Tiff.” In the brief moment before Tiffany turned away from him, Parker managed to catch a glimpse of an expression of Tiffany’s that he didn’t get to bear witness to from their first night together until now: red-faced, flustered, but also, aroused. “Let me make it up to you.”

Feeling Parker’s breath on her ear, Tiffany flinched, letting out a yelp before she could do anything about it. “P-Parker!”

“Can I?”

Her ears turned even redder as Parker’s arms snaked around her waist, but she kept her face turned away from him: this time, not so much as to pretend to be mad at him but more so to hide just how flustered, and just how turned on, she was.

“Ca-Ca-Can, Can you what?”

A smile sprouted on Parker’s lips, but this time, no laughter. “Let me make it up to you, babe.” Those words uttered into her ears, combined with the feeling of Parker’s hands slipping under her shirt and caressing her stomach, caused Tiffany to let out another, louder yelp.

“W-Wa-Wai-Wait, Parker…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”

Tiffany’s eyes fluttered shut, a sigh escaping her lips as Parker’s strong, firm hands gently caressed her abs. “Oh…” No longer able to pretend, Tiffany started to lean back into Parker’s touch, her arms relaxing and melting into Parker’s embrace. “Mmm…”

“Is that ok?” When Tiffany didn’t respond for a second, Parker asked again, “Is that ok, Tiff?”

“Hm?”

“Can I keep going?”

Tiffany nodded, and Parker’s hands began migrating north, stopping just short of the undergarment covering her chest. His hand gently cupped her breasts, eliciting a soft gasp from the lips of his now girlfriend, but didn’t apply too much pressure to them. The fleeting touch left Tiffany wanting more, but, being too shy to express it, only leaned into his touch in response. Parker pulled back, and Tiffany unconsciously chased him, and when he noticed this, a smile sprouted on his lips.

How long would Tiffany last before she said something? Would she continue to try to lean into his touch? Just a little bit … strangely enough, this wasn’t the first time Parker had sex with Tiffany despite only now becoming her boyfriend, but there were still many firsts ahead of them. He just wanted a little bit, a little taste of a needy, whiny Tiffany, aroused beyond belief, begging for his touch … just a hint, a tease of what it’s like.

Was this fucked up of him? Was it Jessica’s influence that he thought of this? Before, Parker felt like he never would’ve had such a desire. Maybe it’s Tiffany who is drawing the desire out from him: her innocence, her purity, contrasted by her smoking hot body and her outfit that so beautifully traces out her curves.

Push and pull—Parker would let Tiffany’s breasts fill his hands, gently kneading and massaging them, and when that happens, Tiffany starts to lean back in content, but before Tiffany could get used to it, Parker would detach his hands. And so, the cycle would continue, with the impatient whine playing at Tiffany’s lips growing louder and louder until, finally, it was audible to Parker.

“Pl-Please, wai-wait…”

There it is.

Tiffany’s voice, her infallible gentleness, a softness that made Parker want to wrap Tiffany in a warm blanket and protect her, even the subtle aroma of strawberry that lingered about her, Parker found himself falling deeper and deeper into the unescapable pit that was Tiffany’s charm.

“What is it, babe?”

“Par-Parker…”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t … don’t go…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Tiffany.”

“No, I mean … your—your hands…”

“Do you want more?”

Tiffany was irresistible though. How adorable was Tiffany? The bashful tone of her voice, the way she asked, Parker could only bear stringing her along for so long. Seeing a puppy jumping at one’s feet, trying to reach the treat in one’s hands, one can only keep the treat from it for so long before caving.

Tiffany nodded, and that was all the go-ahead Parker needed to pull the bra down and palm her bare breasts.

“Ooh!”

His fingers sunk into the plush texture of her boobs while his palm filled up with them, and as it happened, Tiffany’s soft moans and gasps slowly grew in volume and frequency. “Does it feel good?”

Both from the feeling of Parker’s hands caressing and massaging her boobs and from feeling his deep, resonating voice so close to her ear, Tiffany could only whimper out a, “y-yes~”

By now, she had forgotten all about her ‘anger’ towards Parker, her back arching and pushing her boobs into his hands as they began moving in increased fervor. His fingers made their way to her areola, and when he softly pinched her nipples, Tiffany could’ve sworn she came a little.

“G-Go—od…”

It was dangerously addictive. Even when Tiffany was whimpering, she was utterly adorable, and knowing it arose from the extremely pleasant feeling of massaging her boobs, Parker sunk further and further into it. He wanted more: feel up her boobs more, to feel her body shuddering against his, to hear her soft, silky voice let out those soft whimpers and groans as his hands did their magic on her boobs, and to hear those small sounds evolve into sharp yelps as he squeezed her swollen, hardened nipples. Tiffany had gradually shifted onto Parker’s lap until now, where it felt like she was now gradually shifting closer to his body until Tiffany’s back was pressed flush against his chest. It wasn’t until he started to feel Tiffany lightly grinding against the tent that had formed in his pants that he even realized how uncomfortably hard he had gotten.

“Tiff…”

Hearing him calling out her name, dripping with such desire, and feeling Parker pressing his erection against her ass, Tiffany nodded. “I—I, I want it.”

“Let me get a condom, babe.”

“Wa-Wait!” Just as Parker began to pull away, the sudden interjection from Tiffany caused him to freeze. “I’m on the pill. It’s ok.”

“Are you sure?”

When Tiffany turned around, Parker’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. His beautiful, kind, pure, considerate, weird girlfriend, looking at him with such an aroused expression … it would be enough to bring any man to his knees. Luckily for Parker, he was already sitting down.

“Yeah.”

“Then, should we move to the bedroom?”

Surprisingly, Tiffany shook her head. “Right-Right here. Where we had our first time.”

A smile broke out on Parker’s lips. “I didn’t know you were sentimental like that, babe.”

A blush creeped up on Tiffany’s cheeks—or, rather, a deeper blush than the one already present—but she responded anyway by saying, “I want to show you how good I’ve gotten, especially compared to last time.”

“How good you’ve gotten? Last time?”

“At fitting you. You, your…” even if you were starting to get the idea of what Tiffany was trying to say, seeing her floundering about was much too enjoyable to get you to stop her, “um, you know. You—you, your, fitting you inside me.”

Even when Tiffany’s talking about such a subject, how can she be so unbelievably adorable?! “Is that so?” Parker wanted to laugh, but the thought of the implications of her words left his mind reeling. He wanted to tease Tiffany for it, but the thought of it … but, just to make sure… “…and how did you do that?”

“Hm?”

Parker couldn’t resist. It must’ve been Jessica’s bad influence that made him want to tease Tiffany so relentlessly. Then again, it was probably Jessica’s influence that Tiffany was like this, too. “How did you get better at that?”

Tiffany’s face was just turning more and more red, and it made Parker want to push her even more. “Oh! Um…”

“Let me guess: Jessica convinced you, or did something for you?”

“…yeah…”

“What is it?”

Tiffany, in addition to looking embarrassed, was also looking a little bit guilty. However, considering everything else she had been so hesitant about, Parker wasn’t even remotely worried about whatever it was Tiffany’s mind was preoccupied with. “…promise you won’t hate me?”

Instead of responding, Parker leaned forward and gave her a peck on the lips. When he pulled away, Parker couldn’t help but smile a little at the startled expression on Tiffany’s face. “Of course not.”

“…are you sure?”

“Do you need some more convincing?”

Parker placed his hands around her waist, but before they could get anywhere, Tiffany let out a squeal and said, “N-No! It’s ok!” Parker retracted his hands, letting Tiffany catch her breath before continuing, “Um … well, Jess did help … she, um, gave me … well, she said you wouldn’t mind! And, I thought, I didn’t, I thought, that, um, that it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but now that I think about it, it’s sorta weird, especially because you—”

“Tiffany.” Parker placed his hands on Tiffany’s, who subsequently looked up to meet his gaze. “It’s ok.” Her waffling and panicking melted away in an instant.

“Sorry…”

“It’s fine.”

“…um, well, Jess gave me a … um, a, a, um, a model of your … um, you know, a replica of your, your…” seeing Tiffany’s eyes flicker down clued Parker in as to what she was trying to say, but seeing her floundering about was just too adorable a sight to let him intervene. “…your, um, your—your, your, you. I mean, not like, you, but, um … it. Your pen—your penis.”

Parker only felt slightly bad for forcing Tiffany to get those words out. Only slightly, though. In his defense, however, it was far too entertaining, and far too endearing, to cut short. “I see.”

“You’re not mad?”

On one hand, Parker couldn’t help but smile, but on the other, Jessica’s words reverberated in his mind: a cautionary tale of sorts, a warning, of her past relationship that somehow ended poorly. Was this the aftereffects of that? “No. I know about the dildo molded in the shape of my penis, but I just didn’t know had more than one made.”

“Oh…”

“…so, that’s how?”

“Hm?”

Fuck.

That thought was going to ruin him.

“Is that how you ‘got better’?”

“Oh! Um … um, ye—…—yeah…”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The imagery that appeared in his mind, of Tiffany laying in her bed, with the dildo in the shape and size of his cock in her hand, slowly yet firmly guiding it between her legs, parting her glistening wet folds and slowly but steadily prying apart her walls, the sweet, musical moans that would escape her lips, kept at barely a whisper because of her embarrassment despite being secluded in the privacy of her own bedroom in her own apartment, sweat starting to form on her forehead as more and more of the dildo enters her, but fighting on regardless, steadfast and stubborn, lips parted and eyes closed, legs trembling, her bedsheets being stained with more and more of her juices …

Yeah, Tiffany may very well be the death of him.

“So, you want to try the real thing now?”

“…well, um, if you don’t mind…”

Parker tried to refrain from laughing at that, but ultimately let out a stifled chuckle. “Babe, of course I don’t mind.”

In her excitement, Tiffany spent almost an entire minute fumbling with his belt and zipper—Parker, of course, offered to do it instead, but Tiffany insisted that she be the one to take off his pants and his boxers, and when she finally succeeded, the mostly hardened cock that sprung free from its restraints nearly hits her in the face.

“Wow, it’s so…” Entranced, Tiffany’s hands are drawn towards his member, and the feeling of Tiffany’s dainty hands gently caressing his member causes Parker to let out a hiss. “…so big … and so warm…”

“Shall I return the favor?”

“Hm?” How caught off guard Tiffany is at his question makes him laugh even more.

“You took off my underwear, do you want me to take off yours?”

“It’s ok.”

On one hand, Parker wanted to help Tiffany out of her underwear, but on the other, he wanted to make sure Tiffany is as comfortable as possible. This is only their second time, after all.

The way she took off underwear off, though, made Parker think she was influenced by a certain friend of hers: turned around, with her shorts on the ground, bending over and pulling her panties down, inadvertently shoving her ass and showing off her glistening, wet, pink folds to Parker in all their glory.

But, when she turned around, Tiffany looked none the wiser. “Ok. I’m ready.”

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“Hm?” Oh. She’s just that innocent, huh? “Do what on purpose?”

“The way you took your underwear off…?” The continued, confused look on Tiffany’s face made Parker almost feel bad for her that Jessica is one of her friends. “…I could see everything very clearly.”

“Hm?” Confusion, quickly replaced by a horrified look of realization. “Oh!” Tiffany’s face was starting to return to its normal color, too, but in that one moment, her face turns back to beet red. “I’m-I’m-I’m so sorry!”

“No, don’t be. It was really sexy. You should do it more often.”

“…oh…”

Seriously, what business did Tiffany have, being this adorable, even as she was getting ready to take on the challenge, for the second time, of fitting his cock inside her?

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes!” With great haste, Tiffany turns back around and sits down on his lap. “But, um, you’ll have to help me a little.”

“Of course.” When Tiffany jumped at the feeling of his hands securing themselves around her waist, Parker instantly paused. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” It’s like Tiffany is perpetually in a hurry, and the rushed way she answered Parker makes him smile a little wider. “Sorry, I just wasn’t … um, I mean, um … nothing, keep going. Please.”

“I’m your boyfriend now, babe, no need to be so polite.”

“Oh! Um, so—I mean, um, tha—thank you…?”

It was almost unbelievable, this specimen that is Tiffany Hwang, yet here she was, in his lap, asking him to help her impale herself on his cock. “You’re so adorable, what am I going to do with you?”

“You-You, You can, you can, um, well, you can—”

“Tiffany, I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to change my mind.” Parker’s soothing voice, so close to Tiffany’s ears, simultaneously make her jump but also calm her nerves. “Go ahead, try asking me without a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’.”

“Um … th-then, honey, can you help me with—” At the predictable place Tiffany hit a roadblock, Parker patted her stomach gently, reassuring her and giving her the confidence to continue, “—with, with putting your co—your cock inside me?”

If Parker had one less ounce of restraint, he might’ve taken that as his cue to pull Tiffany onto his raging hard-on and shove it inside her wet, waiting hole—thankfully, not only was there a physical separation that made that a little bit more difficult, but the practice that Jessica unknowingly provided him with, although not explicitly training him for this, gave him the patience to reign in his sex drive.

“Of course, babe.”

Parker had to be doubly careful with guiding Tiffany backwards, lest his lust take control and cause him to hurt her, pausing right as he had Tiffany’s ass pressed flush against his erection. Tiffany let out something between a sharp exhale and a soft moan, slightly grinding against his stiff member. “Ooh, gosh…”

“Slowly, ok?” Tiffany nodded, and, taking that as permission to continue, Parker lifted her partially off his lap while Tiffany’s hand reached downwards to grab his cock, aligning it with her entrance. “I’m going in.”

“Hmmm…” The anticipation inside Tiffany having built so much that it was being forced out of her mouth, Tiffany could only watch as that cock she spent way too many nights thinking about these past few weeks get closer to her, and when it finally brushed against her labia, she let out another, louder moan. “Hnn—!”

“Remember, we’re not in any rush, babe.”

The repeated reassurances from Parker did help Tiffany put her mind at ease, especially when she started to feel his dick starting to push aside her damp labia and into her pussy. “Hnn … oh, oh my…” it was even before his tip fully entered Tiffany that she was already starting to feel it: his size, his firm hands guiding her onto his shaft, and how hot it was.

When Tiffany was practicing by herself in the safety of her own bedroom, she could take all the time she needed, and it was with a toy that she had complete freedom to maneuver; now, she had more or less surrendered control to Parker, it was both scary and extremely arousing. In her own bedroom, she could go at her own pace, but because of how intimidated she was at even the toy-version of Parker’s dick, she would find herself taking quite a while to psyche herself up to even get started. With Parker, she wasn’t granted that time to mentally prepare herself, like how she would press the phallic object against her folds and then drawing away repeatedly until gaining the courage to push it in; Tiffany knew she could say something and Parker would stop, but she just didn’t. Surrendering control of her body, feeling Parker’s cock slowly pushing her pussy lips further and further and stretching her walls more and more, what started out as a sort of stubbornness in swallowing the discomfort and anxiety for Parker’s sake gradually transformed into sheer ecstasy.

And, as Parker delved deeper inside her, she came across the thing that she figured would be the biggest difference between the dildo and the real thing: body heat. She even tried warming the sex toy up by soaking it in warm water for a bit, but that by no means prepared for how, as Parker very slowly entered her, how his body heat seemed to seep into her body as well.

“Oh my … my go-od…”

It was almost torturous, pushing himself as slowly as he was inside Tiffany, but he could feel that it was necessary; he just barely pushed his tip completely inside and was already starting to feel hints of resistance. That, and the feeling of her sticky, damp pussy lips stretching around his girth, clamping tightly around its circumference, pushed Parker’s lust ever higher.

“Fuck, Tiffany…”

The groan that arose from Parker’s lips was a result of that pent-up lust, being shoved down into his body as he slowly, painstakingly slowly, advanced inside her. Tiffany’s sincerity made it easy to keep a lid on that impatience, but there was something about the back-view of Tiffany, how her shirt came just short of her shapely ass and how fucking amazing her waist feels in his hands. There were many upsides that Parker could see with being with Tiffany: of course, she’s breathtakingly beautiful, and despite her naturally cute demeanor that makes one want to simultaneously protect her and tease her relentlessly, she also has all the right curves in all the right places. Of anyone he’s ever gotten to know, Tiffany has to be the kindest, gentlest person he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting, and on top of all of that, she’s a very driven woman who takes her career in marketing very seriously. And then, the cherry on top is how addictingly silky-smooth her skin is: without exaggeration, Parker could see himself very easily hooked on this feeling, of running his hands across her skin, and then also hearing the small moans that escape her lips when he does so.

“Are you ok?”

Tiffany nodded. “That—That wasn’t so bad…”

“Hm? Tiff, I’m not even halfway inside yet…”

“…Huh?!”

Parker let out a laugh. “I thought you practiced.”

“Well—well, I-I-I did, I did, but it’s, it’s just—…” the more she stammered the more she lost her words, and it didn’t help that Parker was continuing to slowly, steadily, push himself inside her and splitting her pussy walls wide apart as she attempted to string words together into a coherent response. “—…oh god … I … Par-Parker, oh my…”

It was tight, alright, but it was noticeably easier than the first time; whether or not Tiffany realized it, Parker could feel the results of her practice. The first time, Parker stopped before going all the way in, the resistance he was feeling being a strong enough deterrent from doing so; now, although Tiffany’s pussy still felt like it was trying to wring the life out of his cock, he could still feel her walls flexing and stretching to accommodate him; that, and the natural lubricant that she was generating and lathering his length with, made it easier.

“Almost there.”

The words were true in a sense; although Parker had no way of knowing for sure, it felt like there was probably about a third of his length to go. And, if his speculation was true, then, for some, two-thirds could be considered ‘almost there’—in this case, whether or not Tiffany considered that to be ‘almost there’, Parker whispered the words into her ears to give her the confidence to keep going, and being the stubborn woman, the type of woman who worked unnecessarily hard to please the people she loved, which held doubly true for the man she loved, it was motivation enough for her to respond with, “Gosh, Parker, I—it, it still feels too big, but, it’s—but, you’re, it’s also so hot…”

“Do you like it?”

“Mmm … mmhhmm, yes, it feels so amazing…”

It must’ve been the sheer amount of pleasure Tiffany was feeling that was making her delirious, but she didn’t even seem embarrassed to make such a bold statement. And, to know that he was the cause of it, Parker felt his chest swelling with pride. That was the positive though—the negative was a thought that creeped in: if she’s acting like this now, then how would she act while she’s bouncing on my cock, on the verge of cumming, screaming as my cock slams into her cervix with each thrust?

It was so, so damn difficult to reign himself in—in fact, it felt like the only thing keeping his pent-up lust, his desire to fuck his new girlfriend relentlessly until she couldn’t even feel her legs anymore, was how insanely tight her pussy was. It was like Tiffany’s body, itself, was keeping Parker’s rampaging hormones in check, and to that, Parker was thankful.

“I bet that toy feels nothing like the real thing, huh?”

“It … it, it’s, it feels sort of familiar, but also, that thing never scrambled my brain as much as you are right now…”

Honestly, Parker should just shut his damn mouth. With every reaffirming word Tiffany spewed, Parker’s ego ballooned and it became increasingly hard to fight against the calling of his more primal side to shove the rest of his length inside her.

“God…” muttering that was all Parker could do to keep himself in check; it had now gotten to the point where Parker had to stop for a few seconds to let Tiffany adjust before continuing, and now that he could feel that he was nearing the end, that urge pushed and pushed against the cracking dam of his willpower until—“…fuck, Tiffany, I’m sorry, but—”

“—did…” Tiffany shyly cut him off, and although there was strain in her voice, Parker also heard an almost equal amount of arousal in her voice as well. “…do you just want to, um, to, just, um, sho-shove, shove the rest inside?”

“Are you sure?”

Tiffany barely had the chance to nod before Parker followed through, eliciting a sharp, louder moan from the Korean woman as her ass finally crashed down onto Parker’s lap.

“Fu-Fuck!”

“Nng, god, you’re so fucking tight, and so warm…”

For Tiffany, it was like a shockwave jolted throughout her entire body, straightening her back, her head subconsciously tilting back and pressing against her new boyfriend’s sturdy chest. In that moment, Tiffany could’ve sworn her mind flashed white, all other thoughts, all sensations vacating her brain except the fullness and the sheer heat of Parker’s cock buried to the hilt inside her.

“Tiffany…?”

“I’m … I’m … oh god, I’m going crazy…”

Even after shoving the rest of his length inside her, the fight against his lust raged on; give her ample time to get used to his size, give her pussy ample time to stretch out fully to accommodate his girth, give himself time to enjoy the hot, tight, wet cavern his cock was burrowed inside, before starting slowly. Nothing major, just griding slowly against her ass, indulging in the soft, plush texture of Tiffany’s shapely romp pressing against his groin while his cock brushed against Tiffany’s womb, shifting around, causing the fleshy, sticky walls of her pussy to shift in kind.

“Parker…”

Now that his hands were no longer needed to guide her onto his shaft, they vacated her waist, sliding under her shirt, unclipped her bra, and pulled out the undergarment from under her shirt. “We won’t be needing this anymore.”

“Oh…” Parker couldn’t tell if Tiffany’s face was red from embarrassment or from being flushed in general. “…um, yeah, I-I, I … yeah…”

As he got his hands on them, Parker’s attention shifted from Tiffany’s pussy to her boobs—despite the insane pressure her walls were exerting on his cock, feeling that squishy, silky-smooth, squeezable texture against his palm and fingers, the addictive quality of her ample breasts, the soft sighs and the way Tiffany arched her back at his touch, a silent cry for more contact, the way her body squirmed at his touch and how she let out a sharp moan at just the feeling of his fingers brushing against her areola followed by a whine as his fingers retreated, it was all too addicting.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh m—”

Tiffany was very clearly getting overwhelmed, awash in a sea of pleasure, every pore in her body screaming out in ecstasy, any hint of discomfort or pain from Parker’s oversized member having completely vanished. Just as amazing as Tiffany’s body felt against Parker’s body, so too did the fullness of his cock inside her, the heat from his cock pulsating into her, feeling his body rocking against her, everything about Parker, it felt like, was turning Tiffany on further and further. Tiffany felt like, with the practice she had done, that she was preparing herself for this experience, failing to take into consideration the rest of Parker’s body: his muscular legs that pressed against her own, his sturdy chest that she ended up leaning her head against, his powerful arms that trapped her arms against to her sides, his hands that kneaded and rolled and massaged her tits, his warm breath that brushed against her ears and warmed her face, the warmth and heat of his entire body, smothering her like a thick blanket—

“Parker, fuck…”

What’s more, Parker could sense Tiffany losing her mind, too, and it only made him want to do more: it made him want to be more aggressive with her tits, it caused him to turn the rocking motion he was doing into a more defined bucking, it made him want to continue whisper into her ear how great of a job she was doing and how amazing her pussy felt, how amazing her tits were, how he loved the way she squirmed at his touch, how divine her ass felt grinding against his groin, and the more it happened, the louder the sound of their sex became.

The two quickly fell into a rhythm, and so deep did Tiffany sink in ecstasy that, when Parker’s hand escaped from underneath her shirt, she let out a whine, followed quickly by an, “Oh—” and closing her mouth from embarrassment at the sound she just made.

Parker, not one to miss a chance to tease his girlfriend, quipped, “Don’t worry babe, I’m just taking off my shirt. It’s getting in the way.”

“Oh, ok…”

“Should I do yours, too?”

Tiffany shyly nodded, and before long, the two of them were back at it, now completely in the nude, with Tiffany sitting on Parker’s lap, who was in turn sitting on his living room couch, slowly fucking the rather inexperienced woman, hands returning to their perch on her tits and this time, being more aggressive with the light squeezes he finally granted to the swollen, erect nipples standing proudly from Tiffany’s boobs.

“Fffuck!”

“Do you like that?”

Tiffany nodded and was rewarded with another pinch. “Mmm! Park—baby, that’s, that’s, oh my god—”

Parker was getting close, but nowhere near as close as Tiffany, whose voice kept raising in pitch and volume the more he rammed his cock into the deepest parts of Tiffany. “Don’t hold back. Let it all out, baby.”

“Please, baby, I’m so close, oh god, I’m so close—” He could feel it, too, and it only pushed him further and faster and harder. “—a-ah, ah, f-f-ffuckk!”

At that point, it felt like Tiffany’s entire body was an erogenous zone. Parker really was trying his best to make Tiffany feel as good as possible, but it also felt like everything he was doing was working. The soft clapping of her ass against his damp groin, the gentle kneading of her tits in his hands, the firm thrusts of his cock against her fleshy, hot, sticky walls, and every time his fingers squeezed her pleasure button, Tiffany responded with all the positive feedback that made Parker want to do it again and again and again and again and—

“—Parker, god, I’m, I’m cum—I’m cumming, oh, fffuck!”

And just like that, Tiffany’s body straightened, vibrating violently against his body, causing his cock to stir about inside her even more and causing her orgasm to intensify even more.

“Oh god, oh my god, I can’t, I can’t, Parker, babe, please, I can’t stop, it’s too much—”

But Parker was helpless to do anything about it either. It was only the second time, but he was already addicted to it: the feeling of Tiffany completely unraveling against him, losing control, awash with sheer ecstasy. The fact that he was the cause of it, the fact that Tiffany allowed him to lose herself like this … the natural response of his body was to desire more of it. So, he was helpless to do anything but to continue fucking her with all his strength, letting her ride out her orgasm, prolonging it until—

“Tiff…”

“Mmm, hmm, hhnnng…”

It was clear that Tiffany wasn’t of the right mind to respond to him, and with how tightly her pussy was gripping his cock, it felt like pulling out wasn’t an option either. Briefly, Parker remembered Tiffany telling him that she was on the pill—and, while he knew there still was some risk to it, he also wasn’t in the right mind to make responsible decisions. All he could think about was Tiffany’s ecstasy, and his own, and the impending orgasm that was washing over his body.

“…fuck, Tiffany, baby, I’m cu—” before he could even finish his warning, the first stream entered her womb at the apex of Parker’s thrust. And Tiffany, who was beginning to wind down from her orgasm, at the sudden feeling of her now boyfriend’s warm, sticky fluid filling her up, felt everything coming straight back up. “Fuck, Tiff, I’m so sor—”

“Oh, oh god, oh my god, I’m—I’m, I can’t again, oh my GOD—” Tiffany craned her head against Parker’s shoulder, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull as a second consecutive orgasm struck her.

“…Tiff…?”

Everything about it. The was Tiffany responded to his every touch, the way her beautiful voice expressed her pleasure, the eagerness—or was it stubbornness?—with which Tiffany seemed to act, the feeling of her body against his, and now, how easily the act of creampieing her made her come to a second orgasm so quickly—everything, everything, made Parker go crazier and crazier. Even as his refractory period was starting to hit him, Parker managed to push through, forcing himself to let Tiffany ride out his orgasm on his cock until, nearly a minute later, Tiffany finally started to calm down.

There was a pretty long period of silence afterwards—silence, not awkward, but comfortable. Basking in the afterglow, Tiffany slumped against Parker’s chest, her own chest heaving, her arms hanging by her side, hands intertwined with Parker’s hands.

“…I can feel it leaking out…”

Parker let out a chuckle. “Sorry I couldn’t warn you better.”

“It’s ok.” Parker could tell by the bashful tone Tiffany’s voice was taking again that her face was red. Which was … strange, might be an understatement to describe it, considering how his cock was still firmly wedged inside her. “It’s … wow, oh my, I can’t believe how it still feels this full, and warm…”

“Let me—”

Tiffany stopped Parker as he moved to lift her off his lap. “I like it.”

To Parker’s credit, the way Tiffany said those words—bashful, hesitant, but with some firmness—that led Parker to respond, “Oh, do you?”

Tiffany whined and slapped Parker’s arm. To say that it even stung slightly would be an outrageous lie—all it succeeded in doing is making Parker laugh. “Shut up.”

“My couch…”

“Hm?” Tiffany first looked over at Parker, then down, and when she did, a look of horror befell her face. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

“No,” Parker told her, this time being the one to stop her from dismounting him, “it’s ok. It’s quite hot, actually.”

“What?”

“Give me a few more minutes. Then, I’ll be ready for round two.”

“Hm…” there was a bit of confidence, and perhaps a hint of mischief, in her voice. Something that Parker didn’t hate in the slightest. “…make that a few seconds.”

“Tiff, I don’t—” Parker swallowed his words at the feeling of Tiffany grinding against his crotch. What he was about to say was that he needed a little bit to recover, from his abundance of experience with Jessica and her relentless energy and how much she always pushed him to go again, now, right now! “…shit…”

But something about it was different about Tiffany. The shy confidence she held, the obvious inexperience in her actions but the eagerness with which she did them … it certainly didn’t hurt that it felt like Tiffany’s ass felt fuller and feeling the cushiony, velvety texture rubbing against his groin felt like heaven on earth, and of course, the insane, sheer tightness of her pussy, but he could feel his fatigue being blown away with every rotating motion.

“A few seconds, ok? I want more.”

Tiffany couldn’t get enough. That feeling, she could’ve sworn that she could feel his cock pressing up against her stomach as she bounced, ferociously, on his lap, crying out as each thrust caused Parker’s cock to strike at the entrance of her womb. The only pause happened because of a burgeoning desire to kiss Parker that eventually spilled out over her lips, and after turning around in his lap without breaking contact, Parker’s hands found their way around her waist and on her ass as her arms looped around his nape. The warmth of each other’s faces, the feeling of their lips pressed firmly against each other, dancing, as Parker’s monster relentlessly ravaged Tiffany’s pussy, each contact creating an increasingly loud slapping noise that also grew wetter, as each thrust also deposited a little bit of the creampie still left inside Tiffany onto Parker’s lap and onto the couch itself.

It was almost a shame, Tiffany’s beautiful moans being muffled, but the fact that it was his own lips that was muffling them made it excusable. The deeper and more lost in lust Tiffany became, the wilder the kiss became, until it eventually felt like they were just trying to devour each other. Animalistic, raw, pure desire for each other, the creaking of the poor sofa, the sheer amount of heat being generated from their activities that was causing beads of sweat to form along their hairlines, but they persisted still.

It wasn’t a novel feeling, really; Parker knew that he was bigger than usual, and that he actually wasn’t compatible with some women because of his size. Frankly, Parker would’ve figured that Tiffany, being the sweet, pure, innocent angel she was, might’ve been one of those women, but in that moment, he knew that he couldn’t be further from the truth. Bordering on discomfort, the intense pressure Tiffany’s pussy was exerting on his cock overwhelmed his senses. He was lost at sea, awash with the smoothness of Tiffany’s legs wrapped around his waist, the velvety soft texture of Tiffany’s lips pressed against his own, everything, everything, was just Tiffany.

As his second climax rolled around, Tiffany was nearing her fourth, so Parker expedited it by pressing on the cheat button. This time, Parker was able to give Tiffany a more heads-up warning, but Tiffany was too drunk on ecstasy to be able to say anything but, “inside! Please, babe, inside!”

So, that’s what he did, and when their climaxes faded, the two were left with the salacious mixture trickling out of Tiffany in droves, leaving a noticeable wet stain on the cushion. Of course, Parker didn’t mind in the slightest.

“You did so well, Tiff.”

“Hmm…”

Feeling how much energy Tiffany expended, Parker had half a mind to carry her, like this, back to his bedroom, as he did the first time they fucked, but his own fatigue decided against it.

“Sleep?”

Parker could feel Tiffany nod against his shoulder, so he extracted his cock from her, making a pit-stop in the bathroom to help clean her up before guiding her, who was now wobbly-legged, barely able to stand, to his bedroom.

When he tucked her in, he expected her to be out cold, so Parker was surprised when he heard Tiffany say, “I want to tell you something.”

“Oh, I thought you’d be asleep already.”

Tiffany turned towards Parker. He had ditched their clothes back in the living room, and while he could see that Tiffany was still slightly flustered by the situation, the mind-blowing sex and the aftercare afterwards seemed to have taken its toll of her embarrassment. “Can I?”

“Of course.”

“It’s about my ex.” Parker wasn’t expecting this so suddenly. In fact, Parker was content—curious, but content—with not knowing at all what happened, and presumably, what her ex did that made Jessica so protective of Tiffany. “Did Jess tell you anything about him?”

“Just that he was a terrible person.”

Tiffany pursed her lips and sighed. “I … wasn’t a virgin when we … um, before our first time.” Parker was already starting to piece things together, but he dared not interrupt her. “It was in high school. You know how it is. There’s … pressure. To do it. I felt it, but as a guy, I guess he felt it even more.” Even now, even now, Tiffany was trying to redeem him. Paint him in a better light. Just … just how much of a saint is this woman? “So, he eventually convinced me to do it. But … I guess … I wasn’t ready…? He would get more insistent every time, and I felt like I couldn’t keep just saying ‘no’, and it wasn’t like it was like torture or anything, and I did like him that way too, but I liked him more for his other traits. It’s just, I guess, he changed.

“I guess that I kept caving to him because I hated disappointing him so much. Eventually, it got a little tiring, and I felt like I couldn’t keep up with him, and we got into an argument. He told me that he had needs, and because I was his girlfriend, I was the only one who could fulfill them. In that moment, I don’t know what possessed me to say it, but I remember telling him that wasn’t the case. It was something that I caught myself thinking again and again, especially after those nights, that it would be nice to be able to enjoy it but without being the one who was … um, well, you know.”

Parker could feel how much Tiffany was tiptoeing about the topic, even more so than usual, with the normal innocence she talked with regarding the subject of sex. Now, with the added complexity of speaking about her ex-boyfriend to her current boyfriend … it can’t be easy. But, Parker could see that, with each word that came out of Tiffany’s mouth, it was like a load being lifted off her shoulders. And, as slightly uncomfortable the talk was making him, seeing that load being lifted off Tiffany’s shoulders made it all worth it.

“And, eventually, that’s how I guess I learned of this kink that I have. So, we started, I guess, ‘experimenting’ with a female friend of his. On the days I didn’t feel like it, he’d go to that female friend, and then he’d send me pictures. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that the solution felt like a band-aid over a gaping wound in our relationship. I could tell that he was happier, and that made me happier, but … I guess it was just that … he didn’t want me anymore.”

“He didn’t deserve you.”

Tiffany let out a chuckle. “Thank you, Parker. Jess told me that too.”

“Well, let this be the only time she and I agree on something. He’s a piece of shit that you were being too nice to.”

Tiffany smiled graciously at Parker. “I guess that’s partially why I turned out the way I did. Dating someone else, falling in love with someone else, terrified me. I felt like I didn’t want to lose someone the way I lost him, but I also knew that I couldn’t help but like what I liked. I knew how unfair it was, to want someone who was willing to go along with my kinks and remain absolutely loyal to me—”

“It’s not unfair, baby. To expect loyalty out of your boyfriend should be the expectation.”

Tiffany gave Parker a look for a second, then quickly closed the distance between them and buried her head in his chest. “Really?”

“Of course. If it’s what you want, as long as it’s not hurting anyone. Plus, Jessica is not someone I’d want to be with.”

“Hm?”

“She’s … way too much. Her lifestyle, her work mode, her sexual needs, everything. It’s not for me.”

“But she’s really sweet and understanding and empathetic, isn’t she?”

“…what is your play here?”

Tiffany laughed. “I’m just saying!”

“It sounds like you’re trying to sell me on Jessica.”

“I mean, she’s not that bad.”

“Don’t you dare tell her I ever said this, but yeah, she isn’t.”

“She introduced me to you, after all. So, there.”

Parker laughed, wrapping his arms around Tiffany. “You’re right. Anyone who led me to you can’t be such a terrible person.”

Welp.

… sorry for the long wait

^_^’

HOPE THE WAIT WAS WORTH IT THOUGH!! :D

#jessica jung #smut #snsd #soshi #snsd smut #kpop smut #Soiling Mr. Innocent #creamp1e #tiffany hwang #tiffany smut #tiffany #size k!nk #size difference

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elleaitch22 · 14 days ago

Text

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 15: All In

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: Our girls are back! Please leave comments, reviews, or live reactions! I really love this chapter, and I hope y’all will too!!!! xx Elle

Warnings: Mentions of emotional abuse, PTSD, effects of gaslighting

Word Count: 4.5k words

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Paige was ready, at least she hoped she was.

She had made all the preparations she could think of to make sure Azzi would enjoy their date tonight.

Since it was Friday, Soleil was with her aunts for a sleepover, and Paige had already planned an outing with her for the next day.

Paige had told Azzi that she’d be there to pick her up at 6:30, but it was only 6:23, which gave her exactly enough time to panic before picking Azzi up.

She quite literally couldn’t recall a single time where she was so anxious about a date or trying to impress someone.

She’d spent thirty minutes on Google, trying to decide which flowers to include in the bouquet. She turned the vase, making sure the bouquet was perfect, running through all the flowers once more.

She chose white peonies as the main flower because she thought roses were basic, and this specific peony signified new beginnings. Pink carnations for gratitude and admiration. Pale yellow stock for luck and joy. And lavender waxflower for patience. Some dusty miller, pitta Negra, and lemon leaf served as nice fillers. It was probably the prettiest thing Paige had ever put together.

She didn’t even know if Azzi was into flowers and their meanings, but just in case she was, Paige wanted to get it right.

It was 6:26 now.

Paige walked over to the mirror by the elevator, glancing over her appearance. Their date required casual clothes, and she had dressed accordingly. She left her white shirt with spatters on the hem unbuttoned. The black, high neck, cropped tank showcased her abs, and she thanked God that she still had some of her summer tan. Black distressed shorts hung low on her hips. Ankle socks and crisp air forces finished the outfit. A silver cross necklace and studs were the only jewelry she wore. She decided to do minimal hair and makeup; a low bun, concealer, mascara, and chapstick.

Once 6:28 rolled around, Paige got in the elevator and rode down to the 57th floor.

She knocked on Azzi’s door firmly, happy to be holding a vase of flowers instead of fidgeting with her hands.

Shockingly enough, Azzi Fuud looked perfect when she opened the door.

She had brown sunglasses resting on top of braids feeding into a bun. She had on light makeup as well – mascara and blush. Small silver hoops hugged her ears, and a silver ‘a’ necklace sat firmly on her chest. She were a sleeveless, white shirt with two ties in the front. The shirt was cropped and showed off Azzi’s toned stomach and her

Azzi had a belly piercing.

Paige’s brain went blank.

“– you okay?” She heard a soft voice ask.

“Oh, yes.” Paige held out the flowers. “I hope you like the bouquet. They should last at least a week.”

Azzi accepted them with a smile, “I love peonies! They’re my favorite flowers; these and english roses.” She said, turning to put them down inside.

Paige was blessed with the amazing view of Azzi’s perfect ass in denim shorts. She trailed her long, strong legs down to a pair of green sneakers.

She was absolutely perfect.

“Need something?” Azzi said, noticing where Paige’s eyes had been.

Her lips lifted in a smirk, “Nah. Just admiring the scenery.”

They head to the elevator side by side, hands brushing.

“So, are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” Azzi asks softly.

Paige sighed playfully, “My answer hasn’t changed since you asked me earlier when I picked Soleil up.”

An adorable pout crossed her face.

“Does not knowing make you anxious?” Paige asked, not even thinking about how that may come off to her after years of enduring Grant.

Azzi’s lips turned up in a gentle smile. “No, thank you for checking, though.” She paused. “I just don’t like being told no. Never have.” She giggled.

“Hm, I’ll keep that in mind. But I’m still not telling you where we’re going.” At Azzi’s huff, she added. “I will let you pick the car though.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi looked around as Paige parked the car. She’d been so distracted by the woman’s dry humor that she didn’t even pay attention to where they were going.

‘Emporium’ was printed across the front of a dark building. She looked at Paige with a brow raised.

“Can you not wait thirty more seconds.” The blonde chuckled.

Azzi huffed again, marching towards the doors.

The Emporium was taken straight from the 90s. There was a mix of pop and R&B songs from a few decades ago and an alarming amount of neon. There were tons of games, and the room was filled with laughs and shouts.

“You brought me to an arcade?” She whirled around to the blonde.

Azzi was met with a small smirk, “Yeah. You’ve had a stressful couple of weeks. You need to relax, and I’m here to help with that.”

For a second, Azzi thought of a very different way help could help her relax. “We’ll see how relaxed you are when I kick your ass.”

“Hmm. Sassy.” Paige said dryly.

Azzi’s spine straightened quickly, “Does that make you upset?”

“No,” Paige said, turning to face her. “Did you think it did?”

Shoulders relaxed, Azzi smiled. “A little. I just couldn’t see your facial expression.”

“Nah, I like competition. I like personality. Fire. You can always be as sassy as you want, Azzi. I’ll let you know if you’re pushing it.” Paige finished, turning back to the counter to pay for a game card.

“Well, that’s good. I hope you like being a loser too.”

The curly headed woman practically skipped over to the skee-ball machine, waiting for Paige to swipe the card so they could start the game.

“Not to brag or anything, but I’ve never lost at skee-ball.” Azzi gloated as she rolled the first ball, hitting 50 right away.

Paige rolled her eyes but was a little shocked when her final score was a whopping 560 points. Only one ball hit anything less than 50 points.

Two minutes later, the blonde’s score was a meager 320.

At Paige’s pout, Azzi decided to turn it into a real competition. “I saw a giant unicorn stuffie when we walked in,” She started. “Whoever wins gets to get it for Lei.”

“See, I was gonna take it easy on you, Pretty Girl, but now? You have no chance.” Paige scoffed.

The next game Azzi chose was basketball.

“Az, that’s not even fair. You know I hooped in college. I started at the basketball capital of the world.” Paige chuckled, confidence in her tone.

Azzi rolled her eyes, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, P. I was ranked in the top 20 when I graduated high school. It’s why I ended up at UCLA.”

Paige was entranced by Azzi’s shot. It was fluid, natural, perfect. She was so hypnotized by Azzi’s shooting that she didn’t shoot a ball at her own basket the entire time.

The brunette laughed loudly in her face once the timer ran out. “You didn’t even shoot!” She giggled.

“You have the world’s most perfect shot, Azzi.” Paige said, still in shock. “I’m gonna get actually shoot this round.”

Paige won the first round of shooting, and let Azzi talk her into the best of three.

Azzi won the second round, and the third round came down to the final shot. Paige’s so clean the net didn’t move, and Azzi’s bounced circled the rim twice before rolling out.

“NO!” She screeched, covering her face in shock and disappointment.

“Yes!” Paige jumped, smile wide on her face. “We’re tied on games now. 2-2.” She gloated.

Azzi peeked out through her fingers. “You’re so pretty.” She mumbled.

The blonde’s cheeks darkened, and her cheers died down quickly. “Um, let’s find another game.”

“Wait, Paige!” She yelled, grabbing the pale hand. “I’m serious! I remember the first time I came to your place, I saw you smiling, like really smiling. And I knew I wanted one of those smiles directed towards me. Because when you smile, Paige,” Azzi beamed, “Like really smile, your whole face lights up and you just look so beautiful, and–” She paused, her own cheeks going pink.

“Hmm,” Paige started, smirk stretching across her face, “I’ve never heard you talk that much.”

Azzi looked down at her shoes, “I just – You make me comfortable. Grant didn’t like when I said too much, but you want me to speak.”

Paige smiled softly to herself. She wrapped a long arm around her waist and brought her close, planting a firm kiss on her forehead.

“I love when you say too much. Helps me know you better.” Paige said. She leaned out of their embrace. “We got time for a pool game, wanna play?”

Azzi had never been good at pool, but if she bent over enough, she’d be able to flash a little cleavage at her date, and that might distract Paige enough to steal the win.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna have to teach me,” The shorter girl tossed over her shoulder, heading to the table, hips swaying.

Emporium’s pool table sat tucked in a corner in the back across from the bar. The loud noises from the arcade machine faded a bit, the neon lights faded, low lights creating a much more intimate vibe than the rest of the arcade.

Azzi stood shifting side to side while Paige racked the balls. “So,” She started, biting her lip, “How bad am I about to embarrass myself?”

Paige straightened, looking at the girl with hooded eyes, “You don’t know how to play pool? But you agreed to do this as a tie breaker.”

“I feel like I’ll still end up winning,” Azzi giggled. Paige looked at her confused, “I’m hoping you’ll end up teaching me. And you’ll be all close, so I feel like that’s a win for me.” She said, voice lowered.

Paige smirked, grabbing a cue and chalk. “Come show me your stance. I’ll help you break the balls.”

Azzi took the cue from Paige and tried to mimic what she’d scene on tv. She was bent over dramatically, back arched, ass high. “Please don’t laugh at me.”

She didn’t laugh, but she did stare. “Say stop if you need space,” Paige walked up behind her, almost in a trance. “You trust me?” She questioned, voice low.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah”

Paige moved in slowly, chest brushing against Azzi’s back. Veiny hands covered tanned ones, adjusting her grip on the cue. Her voice dropped, making Azzi frozen in place. “Thumb right here. Keep your elbow soft.” She adjusted the girl’s grip. “Good.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at Paige’s proximity and praise. The surrounding sounds faded, only Paige’s voice and breaths were audible to the brunette. All she could feel was the steady warmth draped over her back, the hand covering hers, the grounding grip on her hip.

“Relax, baby,” Paige said, lips brushing her ear. “I got you.”

Warmth flooded her whole body. “Yeah, I know.”

“Okay,” Paige said, stepping back. “Try the shot.”

The lack of warmth at her back brought her back to the moment. She struck the cue ball and all of the balls in the triangular layout scattered. One solid and two striped balls sunk. She shot up shocked, “I did it!”

“You did,” Paige said, grinning. “You’re stripes, baby.”

Azzi beamed, standing a little taller. “Holy shit. I’m basically a pro.”

Paige laughed. “Clearly. But I might need to supervise a few more turns. Just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”

Azzi tilted her head, teasing. “You sure you’re not just trying to touch my hips again?”

“Busted.” Paige replied with a smirk.

Azzi laughed, the kind that lit up her whole face.

They took turns, bantering between shots. Paige let herself brush Azzi’s fingers when passing the chalk, rested a hand at the small of her back once too long. But she checked in with a look each time, a small question in her eyes. You good?

Each time, Azzi met it with a soft smile or a nod. I’m good.

“Okay, one more ball before the 8-ball. If you don’t sink this, I’m not having any more mercy on you.” Paige said, chin lifted.

Azzi quieted her mind, trying to focus on the striped green ball that stood between her and victory. It wasn’t too far from the pocket, should be easy.

She lightly tapped the cue ball. It hung on the lip of the pocket, then finally it fell. “Yes!” She exclaimed.

The solid black ball was hit in next, and then, “I won! I really beat you at pool!”

Paige laughed at the girl jumping around her. “You’re welcome for my spectacular teaching skills.” She grabbed Azzi’s hand. “Come on, let’s get that unicorn for Soleil.”

Azzi smiled, looking at the hand holding hers.

She could get used to this.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Paige parked and went to get something out of the trunk before coming around to Azzi.

“Come on, there’s like 20 food trucks we can pick from.” She said.

Azzi glanced at the blanket under Paige’s arm, “Are we having a picnic?” She grinned, excited. “I’ve always wanted to have a picnic date!”

She made note of the crepe truck and decided she should bring Soleil once they’ve practiced more French. There are two Jamaican trucks, one Haitian truck, and four Chinese trucks.

They agree on a Korean-Mexican fusion truck called Seoul Tacos.

Azzi is shocked when Paige ordered in perfect Korean.

Azzi blinked. “How the hell do you know Korean?”

Paige smirked. “I know six languages, give or take. English, Spanish, French, ASL, Mandarin, and enough Korean to flirt and order kimchi fries.”

Azzi’s brows shot up, “You are fluent in French and you’re having me teach Soleil?”

“Duh, you’re fluent too. You studied education. You understand the learning process. You’d be much better than I ever would.” Paige said, casually. “I didn’t want to get in your way. You’re the one Soleil looks up to when she’s learning.”

The brunette blushed deeply, “Thank you for saying that.” A glance at Paige showed that she was waiting for her to continue. “Grant said teaching didn’t matter. That I wasn’t smart enough for it.”

Paige’s jaw was clenched tightly. “You’re not stupid at all, Azzi Fudd.” She said, cupping her jaw gently. “I hate that he said that to you – that he said it so much you believed him.”

The two stood closely, a thumb caressing Azzi’s face softly. They stayed that way until the person called ticket number 35.

Azzi spread the blanket on the cooling grass while Paige looked through the bags of food. Both women kicked off their shoes before getting comfortable.

“Okay, we’ve got an elote mandu to share, carnitas bibimbap for you, spicy chicken al pastor tacos for me, and Korean pear agua frescas.” She passed out their food.

The first bite was exceptional. “Shit, this is amazing.” Azzi spoke around her fork.

“Right?” Paige grinned. “So, how did I not know you played basketball at UCLA?”

Paige could see it involved Grant before Azzi opened her mouth. Her spine straightened but her shoulders rounded, like she was trying to make herself small.

“My first semester was really rough, with everything going on. I lost my eligibility, so I never actually played.” She muttered. “I didn’t even tell anyone,” Azzi said quietly. “I didn’t want to talk about it. If I admitted it, it meant he’d actually taken that from me too. That I let him.”

“You didn’t let him take anything, Az. You were surviving.” Paige’s voice cracked just slightly. “I hate that you went through that alone. I wish, God, I wish I’d known you back then. I would’ve fought for you.” She paused. “But I’m here now. And he doesn’t get to take another thing from you. Not your joy, not your future. Not one more minute.”

Azzi nodded, “I just wished I never stopped playing. Basketball was my first love.”

“Well, I’m happy I know you’re a secret hooper now. We can work out together,” Paige joked. “And you can take Soleil to the gym at Aurelia. I’ve been trying to get her interested in hooping. But if she finds out you play basketball, she’ll probably be obsessed with the sport.”

Azzi’s face brightened at the mention of the girl. “She’s really great, Paige. You’ve done an amazing job with her.”

Paige blushed. “Thank you. She’s the thing I’m the most proud of.”

“You should be. Thank you for letting me in her life. Letting me know her…love her.” Azzi’s hand covered Paige’s.

The ladies sat in a comfortable silence, watching the stars twinkle in the sky.

“How did you do it?” Azzi looked over at the blonde. “You built the beautiful life for yourself, even after everything with that guy.”

Paige looked at her, at the tears welling up in brown eyes. “Azzi…”

“Like, I want to trust you. I want this, with you and Soleil. I want this so bad.” She whispered. “But I’m so scared to let myself have this. I’m scared I’ll mess it up, or I’ll let myself love you and you – I don’t think you’d do anything, but maybe you’ll get mad at me or, or tired of me. And you’ll throw me away.”

Paige wanted to say it, wanted to promise Azzi the moon, swear she’d never leave, never hurt her.

But this wasn’t about her.

So instead, she pulled her closer.

Let her fall apart quietly, without trying to fix her.

She didn’t say anything, just held her.

“My situation was different than yours. A lot different.” She started. “I never loved Manny. I knew it was going to be bad from the beginning. But you trusted him; you loved him, and he went out of his way to hurt you.”

“But he hurt you too,” Azzi interjected.

“Yeah, but I expected that from him. I knew we weren’t building anything to last. So, the hits and words didn’t hurt me.” Paige paused, cupping the back of Azzi’s head. “Grant left you with deeper wounds. Bruises fade quickly, but words can stay forever. Maybe,” She hesitated. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with you, but maybe talking to someone, a professional might help.”

Azzi didn’t say anything, just sat with Paige said with an arm around her shoulder.

“You think I need therapy?” She muttered, voice shaky.

“I had to talk to someone too,” Paige said after a beat. “After Manny. I thought I didn’t need it, but I wasn’t sleeping. I didn’t trust anyone but Nika. Kyrie helped.”

Azzi frowned. “So, you do. You think I need therapy?”

“I think you deserve it,” Paige said gently. “You deserve every tool that makes loving people easier.” Paige pulled away, hand gentle on Azzi’s cheek. “But no, I don’t think you need it like something’s wrong with you,” She said. “I just… I think you deserve to feel safe again. With yourself. With me.”

Her face crumpled, “I hate him. I hate that he broke me.”

“You’re not broken, Azzi. You’re strong.” Paige cut her off, bringing their foreheads together. “Do you want me to do something about it? I killed Manny, and I’ll kill Grant too. Just say the word, Az.”

Silence.

Azzi didn’t laugh. She looked up, eyes glassy.

“No. I just want to stop feeling like I deserve what he did.” A tear fell.

Paige brushed a thumb under Azzi’s eye.

“Then that’s what we’ll work on, okay? One bite of bibimbap, one basketball shootout, one bedtime story at a time.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“So, we’ve got two options,” Paige started. “We can go to the Museum of Illusions, or we can go home.”

Azzi looked over the console. The moonlight made Paige look ethereal. Her eyes trailed her perfectly arched eyebrows. Those perfect blue eyes that she could spend hours lost in. Her high cheekbones and perfect nose. Her lips were pink, and they looked so soft, so kissable. And they were moving.

‘What?” Azzi said, not hearing anything the blonde had said to her.

“Oh, you’re sleepy? We can go home.” Paige said, starting the car.

The brunette jolted, “What, no? I don’t wanna go home yet. Did you have anything else planned?”

“I got us tickets to the Museum of Illusions, but the reservation isn’t until 9, so I was thinking we could go get ice cream while we wait.” Paige smiled as Azzi lit up at the mention of her favorite dessert.

“I think ice cream sounds great after. How far is it?” She smiled brightly, dimples on full display.

Paige put the directions in on the car display. “We’re thirty minutes from the museum, and it’s a ten minute walk to the ice cream shop. So we got time.”

“Then yes, please! I really wanna go.” Azzi bounced in her seat. “I’m having a lot of fun with you.” She said lowly.

Paige smiled at the other girl. “Perfect, let’s go!”

The car is filled with Azzi’s Taylor Swift playlist. She belted the lyrics of invisible string three times, loud and off key. Though Paige didn’t like the singer that much, she loved the joy on Azzi’s face while she sang.

They decided to park close the museum and walk to Amorino.

The gelato shop was freezing, and both women almost regretted wearing shorts despite the humid September weather.

“Paige! They have flower cones!” Azzi exclaimed. There were few things that made Azzi as excited as a frozen sweet treat.

The blonde smiled at her, hand low on her back to guide her to the line. “Your second flowers of the night.”

“Nothing will top my first ones, though.” Azzi spun, smiling at the blonde. “You know what you’re gonna get?”

“Coffee or tiramisu.” She replied after looking at the menu for a bit. “What about you, Pretty Girl?”

“I don’t know yet,” Azzi said, brows furrowed. “I’m between mint chocolate chip, dulce de leche, salted butter caramel, and hazelnut chocolate.”

Paige nodded, “Take your time. We’re not in a rush. I’ll get tiramisu. Maybe I should get some macarons for Sunshine.”

“Oh yeah, that’s smart. She’d love that.” She thought about gelato flavors a little longer. “I think I’m gonna do dulce de leche.”

The pair stepped up to order. “I’ll take a small ducle de leche flower cone, a small tiramisu flower cone, and a box of macarons. Three vanilla, hazelnut, pistachio, and raspberry please.” Azzi beamed at the young cashier.

The cashier beamed back at the women, “That’ll be $43.54.” He said, staring at the gap in the bows on her shirt.

Paige caught the direction of his gaze and wound a long arm around her toned waist. She was so distracted by the horny teenage boy that she didn’t notice Azzi paying for their dessert. “Baby,” she sucked her teeth. “You’re not supposed to pay for anything.” She complained, kissing her cheek.

“You got everything else tonight, it’s the least I could do.” Azzi smiled.

They grabbed their desserts and walked outside. “Let’s put these in the car, then we can head to the museum. We have like ten minutes before our time starts.”

“Okay,” Azzi replied, occupied with her cone. “It’s so pretty.”

“Yeah, yeah it is,” Paige muttered, looking at her date.

They walked down the sidewalk side by side, a comfortable silence on them both.

The tall blonde cleared her throat. “Azzi, um – I – I didn’t plan on doing it like this. I didn’t even plan for it to happen for a couple more weeks. Like when I was able to make a real plan, make it perfect–”

Azzi ended her rambling, touching her lower back. “What is it, Paige?” She paused. “It doesn’t need to be perfect; it just needs to come from you. Whatever it is.”

“I don’t want to rush you. I know we’re still figuring everything out. That you’re still figuring everything out. But I like you. A lot. And I really want to call you mine, Azzi.”

A beat of silence.

Big doe eyes blinked. Perfectly pouted lips part.

“Will you be my girlfriend, Azzi Fudd?”

Azzi just stared, stunned. Breathed. A soft laugh, “Jesus, Paige. I thought it was gonna be something scary!”

“This is scary. I’ve never dated anyone before.” Paige said, rolling her eyes.

The brunette moved closer to the blonde. “Yeah, but a good kind of scary.” She smiled, grabbing Paige’s hand. “Of course I want to be your girlfriend, Paige Bueckers.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Paige Bueckers was perfect. Maybe not actually perfect, but Azzi thought the girl was pretty fucking close.

She was an amazing mother. She was probably one of the kindest people she knew. She was loyal and protective of everyone she cared about. She was smart. She was generous. She was so strong. She planned the most perfect date. And she liked Azzi. She liked Azzi enough to make Azzi her girlfriend.

The thoughts played in Azzi’s mom on a loop.

She had a girlfriend now!

The whole time they were at the museum, their hands never left each other. A hand low on a back. A hand on the back of the neck. The touch of an elbow. The linking of pinkies. The grasping of hands.

They took selfies is distorted mirrors. They laughed in the gravity tunnel. Azzi snapped photos of Paige’s real smile, the one she only had when she was with loved ones.

The flowers, the arcade, the food truck, the ice cream, the museum. Paige had planned the perfect date.

Azzi didn’t stand a chance against falling for her.

They were back now, Paige’s arms weighed down by the giant stuffed unicorn and the box of macarons.

Her free arm brushed Azzi’s as they walked slowly, shoulders brushing.

Once they reached Azzi’s door, they paused.

“I had a lot of fun tonight, Paige. The most fun I’ve had in years.” Azzi smiled warmly.

Her girlfriend mirrored her, “I’m glad you liked it so much. Next time you get to impress me.” Her smile fell into a smirk.

“Oh, I will impress you. Don’t worry about that, Blondie.” She giggled.

The blonde hesitated, “I could walk away right now. Go give Soleil her surprises. Or I could kiss you like I’ve been wanting to since you opened the door tonight.”

The smile dropped from Azzi’s face, “Please kiss me.”

She’s gentle. Her hand low on Azzi’s back softly. Like she’s holding something fragile, something precious. Her lips brushed Azzi’s like a promise. Azzi’s hand found Paige’s cheek, thumb grazing the soft skin softly.

The kiss deepened by a breath. Soft, steady, scared.

When they pulled apart, foreheads resting together for a lingering second, the silence between them felt full of things neither needed to say aloud.

“Goodnight, Paige.”

“Goodnight, Pretty Girl.”

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi fics #pazzi #paige x azzi #terms of endearment

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capuccinodoll · 28 days ago

Text

The boyfriend act, part 15: "The one with the cabin and the river" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: The weekend arrives quietly at Will and Benny’s cabin. Good weather, beautiful views, and you and Frankie doing your best to stay under the radar. At least, you try. WC: 16k

A/N: Hii, just wanted to quickly clarify one thing. I noticed a few confused comments about a specific moment, so here’s a quick explanation: When Frankie asks reader, during an intimate scene, "Are you sure you want to do it?" what he’s asking is whether she’s sure she wants to do it without protection, NOT whether she’s on birth control. She is, and he has no doubts about that. I mean she's not lying, he trust her. He’s just asking out of respect, to make sure she’s really okay with doing it unprotected. Oh, and about pregnancy theories… I love them! Lol If you want to be in the tag list, let me know. Don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications! (also, If you've asked me before to tag you and your tag isn't on the list, please send me a message and let me know! Sometimes I miss comments!)

You were curled up on the couch in the living room, legs tucked under yourself, half-listening to whatever the guys had been saying before their conversation drifted into silence. You weren’t reading or scrolling or even thinking all that hard. Mostly just sitting there, letting the quiet settle into your body like it belonged there.

Then Will stood up with that familiar restlessness of his and walked toward the front door.

“Fish, about time!” He said, already pulling it open. He didn’t wait. Just stepped outside like he knew exactly what would happen next.

You sat a little straighter, leaning just enough to see through the front window. Headlights still on, engine ticking quietly in the dark, Frankie was climbing out of the car. It was a few minutes past nine. The sky was ink black now. Only the porch light and a slice of moon above the trees gave shape to anything beyond the glass.

Santi had picked you up from the apartment a little after five-thirty, even though Frankie had offered to take you himself once you’d closed the bookstore. He’d said it casually, almost too casually, leaning against the doorframe with his keys dangling from one hand. But you’d told him no. Not unkindly. You had already arranged everything with your brother, and more than anything, you didn’t feel like being interrogated by Santi later.

So you’d stuck to the plan. You got to the cabin around six-thirty, maybe a little earlier. The sun had still been visible then, hanging low and golden over the trees as Will met you outside, launched straight into a guided tour like it was your first time at summer camp.

Which, in a way, it was. Everyone else had been here before—plenty of times. You were the only new element in a place so soaked in familiarity.

The cabin was charming, in that nostalgic, heavy-with-memory kind of way. It had belonged to their parents. You could tell by how solid everything felt, like the furniture had grown into the floorboards. Three bedrooms—two doubles and one with three twin beds pushed against the walls. Will said their cousins used to come during the summer holidays, that the house would be full of voices and towels and sunscreen. That was decades ago. But the sheets were clean, the air smelled faintly of cedar and something citrusy Benny must’ve used to mop the floors. It didn’t feel abandoned. It felt cared for.

Frankie, though, hadn’t shown up when he said he would. He’d mentioned something vague about stopping by the grocery store on the way, picking up a few things. That was around six. Then nothing. Just the waiting.

Will came back in first, a gust of cold air following him.

“You hungry?” he asked, glancing back toward the open door. “We ate a little while ago.”

“I’m good,” Frankie’s voice replied, a little rough around the edges. He stepped into the room with a backpack slung over one shoulder. His eyes found yours for no more than a heartbeat—two seconds, maybe three—but it was enough. You looked away, down at your phone, even though there was nothing new on the screen. Your thumb hovered like you might scroll, but you didn’t.

Then Benny’s voice carried down the stairs. Something about being late, but it didn’t sound angry. Just loud.

Santi clapped a hand on Frankie’s shoulder and asked about Henry, his tone lighter than the question deserved. Frankie shrugged, said he was fine, but that he was tired. Said he’d explain later. Benny was already motioning him upstairs, and Frankie followed without a word.

You stayed where you were, eyes on the glow of your phone, ears tuned sharply to the movement in the house. You weren’t sure why your chest felt heavier than it had when you’d first sat down—but there it was. A quiet weight. Just there.

Figuring out the sleeping arrangements hadn’t taken much discussion. It was late and no one had the energy for negotiation. Santi and Yov naturally claimed one of the double beds—there hadn’t been any doubt about that. And Will, with his usual unspoken authority, had declared that you’d take the other.

“It just makes sense,” he said, already turning away as if that settled it. And it did.

Benny, Frankie, and Will would take the room with the single beds, and no one questioned it. Frankie hadn’t said a word either way, just nodded slightly when Benny pointed toward the stairs. You wondered if it mattered to him at all, if any of it did.

Half an hour later, the house was quiet. People peeled off one by one, murmuring goodnights and stretching out aching limbs from a day that had felt too long. The plan was to wake up early and explore the trails behind the cabin, maybe head down to the lake before the sun got too high.

But you and Santi stayed outside. The others faded into bedrooms and darkness, and the porch lights hummed above your heads, attracting moths and casting long shadows on the wooden floorboards. You were sitting side by side in the hammock, careful not to shift too much and tip the balance.

“I don’t know,” Santi was saying, voice low. “I’m just saying… you could call her.”

You sighed, pulling your knees up closer to your chest. “But she doesn’t call me. She calls you. Maybe that’s the answer right there. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

You crossed your arms, like the words had left a mark on your skin and you needed to shield the spot.

“Mom calls me because I call her,” Santi replied, not unkindly. He tilted his head back, eyes on the stars. “Last time we talked she asked what was going on with you.”

“She could ask me that,” you said. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you.”

He exhaled, slow and frustrated. “Did you guys fight or something?”

You shook your head. Not really. Not in the traditional sense. There hadn’t been yelling or dramatic exits or anything you could point to and say this is where it all cracked.

What had happened was quieter. A slow shift. A strange, weightless sort of distance that crept in when you weren’t looking. She had become harder to read. Her answers to simple questions—how are you, how’s your day—sounded like rehearsals, like they were meant to steer the conversation somewhere safer. Somewhere away from herself.

Then one afternoon, she had said something. A comment dressed up like advice. You needed to start living your life, she'd said. You needed to stop being so hesitant, so afraid of stepping into yourself.

And it had hurt. Not because it wasn’t true, but because of who it was coming from.

You’d snapped, in that quiet way you sometimes did—no shouting, just words that cut because they were too honest. You reminded her that she had left Austin. That she had chosen not to live in the same house where your father’s absence still lived in every room. You asked how she could tell you to be brave when she couldn’t bear to exist in her own memories.

It wasn’t a fight. But it wasn’t nothing either.

You hadn’t spoken properly since. A few messages. Nothing with weight.

“It’s complicated,” you finally said, voice low.

Santi stayed next to you for a little while longer. The air had gone heavier after the conversation about your mother, but he had this way of knowing when to shift gears. He was good at that—distracting you without making it obvious. Redirecting your thoughts like it was something casual, not a rescue.

“So,” he said after a few moments of silence, his voice light again, as if nothing complicated had ever been said, “how’s everything going with Bill?”

His eyes were bright with amusement.

“It’s almost done,” you replied, stretching your legs out in front of you, “it’s looking really nice. Why? Thinking about stopping by again? Bill said you could go whenever—”

“That’s not what I asked.” He cut in, laughing, clearly pleased with himself.

You paused. “Oh,” you said, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Then… what exactly did you ask?”

Santi pressed his lips together, trying not to grin. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Play dumb.”

You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He gave you a knowing look. “I know you’re seeing him.”

You tilted your head. “I’m not.”

“Oh no?” he said, sitting up straighter now, emboldened. “Then who are you talking to every night?”

You froze, not dramatically, just enough for your shoulders to go still. But you didn’t stop smiling.

“What?”

“When I was at your place last week, you got a phone call and practically blushed. You were all, ‘I’ll call you back’ in this sweet little voice. Same thing a few days later, when you came home—you literally got up from the table mid-sentence.”

“Right,” you said, drawing the word out a little, like you were buying time. “That was Emma.”

Santi laughed, short and loud. “Emma?”

“Yes,” you said, more confidently now, folding your arms like a period at the end of a sentence. “It was Emma. Who else would it be? You thought it was Bill?”

“I don’t know,” he said with an exaggerated shrug. “Maybe. I thought I heard a man’s voice through the speaker.”

You shook your head, gently but with emphasis. “Nope. Definitely Emma.”

The words hung in the air between you for a second, and just then, your phone vibrated softly in your hand. The screen lit up. You looked.

[Frankie🍾]: Are u in bed yet?

You didn’t answer. You just locked the phone quickly, turned it over in your lap so the screen faced down, and pretended nothing had happened.

When you glanced back up, Santi was already watching you.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at you, and then, like he was giving you space to lie one more time, he said, “Well. If it’s not Bill, it’s not Bill. I believe you. It's someone else, then.”

You said nothing. You held his gaze. The smile was still there, barely.

He looked away then, exhaled through his nose.

“I’m going to bed,” he said, pushing his palms against his thighs and standing in one easy motion. “Don’t stay up too late talking to your friend.”

You didn’t respond. You just watched him walk inside, the screen door creaking once behind him. Then you looked down at your phone again, still facedown in your lap. You didn’t move. Not yet.

As soon as Santi closed the door behind him, you reached for your phone.

There it was. You read the message again.

[Frankie🍾]: are u in bed yet?

Your fingers moved instinctively across the screen, barely a pause between thought and action.

[You]: No, I’m outside, Santi just went in

Read.

You watched the three dots appear, vanish, then reappear again—like they were thinking. Or like he was.

[Frankie🍾]: Will and Benny are knocked out. Are u going to stay outside?

You hesitated just long enough.

[You]: I’m going in now

[You]: why?

You stood, brushing imaginary dust from your legs. The porch creaked under your feet as you moved to the door, screen still glowing in your hand. You didn’t look away. Not even as you turned the lock behind you. Inside, the house was dim.

You made your way upstairs, each step sounding louder than it should have. Halfway up, your phone vibrated again.

[Frankie🍾]: Can I see u?

You didn’t hesitate this time.

[You]: sure

[You]: in my room.

[You]: be careful, don’t make noise

There was a pause. A longer one.

Then:

[Frankie🍾]: do you think Santi will take too long to fall asleep?

You pushed open your bedroom door but didn’t shut it all the way. The air inside felt cooler, or maybe that was just your skin reacting to the shift in atmosphere. You dropped your phone on the bed, peeled off your clothes quickly—mechanically—and pulled on a soft pair of pajamas, barely registering the feel of cotton against your skin.

When you picked up your phone again, two new messages blinked back at you.

[Frankie🍾]: I’ll wait ten minutes

[Frankie🍾]: don’t fall asleep

You rolled your eyes, lips curving into a quiet smile that no one saw.

Then you slid under the covers, not bothering with the sheets, settling instead on top of the comforter like it would be temporary.

[You]: I won’t 🙄🙄

You left the phone beside you on the pillow, screen lit, waiting.

About thirty minutes had passed when a weight landed gently on your shoulder—waking you up.

Your eyes opened with a soft, confused flutter, and there he was. Frankie. Standing beside your bed, mouth curved into a smile.

“What happened?” he whispered, voice low and rough at the edges. “Did you fall asleep?”

You blinked at him, propping yourself up on your elbows, your brain still wading through the haze of sleep.

“Hey,” you said, automatically glancing toward the door. “No. I just closed my eyes for a second.”

He gave a small, disbelieving scoff and sat down beside you, settling at the edge of the mattress near your legs.

“I texted you,” he said. “Like twenty minutes ago.”

You sat all the way up now, folding your legs beneath you, studying him in the faint light that came from the hallway.

“Shit, sorry.”

His expression was softer than usual—he looked a little tired, a little resigned. The kind of tired that comes from something heavier than lack of sleep.

“It's okay. I wasn’t going to come in, but I went to the bathroom,” he continued, leaning back slightly, his palms flat against the comforter behind him. “And your door was cracked open and... you were just lying there. Asleep.”

You let out a small groan, rubbing your face. “Sorry. It’s been a long day, okay?”

“No shit,” he murmured, eyes falling shut for a second. You looked at him, then at the floor, the silence between you stretching comfortably for a beat.

Then, quieter, you asked: “Did something happen? Are you alright?”

When he looked at you again, his face shifted—barely, just a flicker—but you noticed it. A crack in the armor. You reached out instinctively, brushing your fingers along the back of his neck. His skin was warm, the gesture familiar in a way that made your chest ache a little. You scratched lightly, your touch barely there.

He exhaled slowly, and when he met your gaze again, the exhaustion in his eyes had deepened, no longer tucked away.

“I saw Rachel today,” he said.

You went still, your hand frozen at the base of his neck. Something in your chest tightened—sharp and unexpected, like you’d swallowed something bitter before realizing it was poison.

“What?” you asked, softly. “Where?”

“At the grocery store,” he said, eyes still focused somewhere below you, like he was replaying the moment. “I left the house late. Was on the phone with Luna for a while, and stopped at this place, sort of out of the way—outside downtown. She lives near there, but I didn’t think about it. Honestly, she hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

He swallowed hard, eyes narrowing at the memory. “I was heading to the checkout, and then suddenly—she was there. Just there. She grabbed my arm and said my name like it was some kind of... reunion or something.”

You pressed your hand more firmly against his back now, not sure if it was comfort or instinct or something more selfish.

“Frankie,” you murmured. “Are you okay?”

He gave a little nod, like it didn’t mean much.

“Yeah,” he said. Then looked at you. “I mean... I didn’t expect it. That’s all.”

You searched his face, unsure what exactly you were looking for. “What did she say to you?”

“She asked how I was doing,” he said, voice quieter now. “Said it was nice to see me again. Then she asked about my family, and right around then, the cashier finished ringing me up. So I just—left.”

You looked down, your gaze settling on the soft folds of the blanket beneath you. You didn’t respond. Not because you were trying to be evasive, but because nothing coherent came to mind. There was just the pressure of your hand still resting against his back and the quiet awareness of how warm his body felt under your fingertips. Solid. Present.

“She looked different,” Frankie added after a few seconds. You glanced up, catching the distant expression on his face. He wasn’t really here anymore—he was somewhere else entirely, tucked into a version of the past only he could see. “But I can’t figure out what changed.”

You exhaled. “Time’s passed. You’ve changed. The way you see her probably has too.”

He turned his head toward you, and for a moment he just looked at you like he was trying to decide if that explanation made him feel better or worse.

“Maybe,” he said. Then he shifted, lying on his back. “Anyway. I left. That was it. I was really late coming over. Sorry.”

You smiled—barely—and then moved in closer, your body folding into the space beside his. You lay down beside him, your legs extended off the side of the mattress just as his were. It wasn’t a natural sleeping position. It felt temporary. Like neither of you was fully ready to commit to comfort.

“I was thinking about you,” you murmured. “Before you came in.”

Frankie turned his head slightly, looking down at you as you rolled onto your side, your cheek resting against the curve of his chest. His hand found its way to your back, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt.

“I was starting to think maybe you wouldn’t come,” you added, quieter now.

“I wouldn’t miss this weekend,” he said, simply.

You made a soft sound in your throat—half acknowledgment, half something else—and closed your eyes. Your fingers moved over his chest in absent strokes, like muscle memory.

There was a smile on your lips. Soft. Unforced. But under it, lodged somewhere in the hollow of your chest, was that same bitter pang from earlier. Faint but persistent. And you couldn’t quite name it.

When your alarm buzzed at seven, it felt like it cut through a dream.

You stirred, barely awake, and instinctively pulled Frankie closer, tucking your body against his. Your cheek pressed against the warm rise and fall of his chest. He made a low sound in his throat—half groan, half exhale—but didn’t wake, not really. His arm tightened faintly around your waist in response, like his body understood your presence before his mind did.

Then your eyes fluttered open and the weight of what had happened landed all at once. You pushed yourself upright.

“We fell asleep,” you said, pressing your palm to Frankie’s stomach as if that might somehow help. “Shit. We actually fell asleep.”

You ran your hand over his ribs in a distracted motion, trying to rouse him. His face barely shifted at first, his brows knit together as if you were intruding on something sacred.

“Frankie,” you said more urgently, your fingers closing gently around his arm. “Wake up.”

He blinked, one eye then the other, and squinted at you, disoriented. “What?”

“We fell asleep,” you hissed.

That got through to him. In an instant, he sat up, the covers slipping off his bare chest. His eyes widened.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck. What time is it?”

“Seven am.”

He ran both hands through his hair and then sat there for a second, unmoving, trying to gather his thoughts. Then he held up one finger, a gesture for silence, and tilted his head. You listened too.

There were voices now, faint but distinct. A laugh. The creak of a floorboard. Footsteps moving across the wooden floor of the cabin.

They were awake.

Frankie dropped his face into his hands. “Will and Benny saw my empty bed.”

You closed your eyes and sighed. “But no one knows where you were. They didn’t see you here.”

He turned to you. “Where else would I be?”

You looked at him, his wide eyes, his tousled hair, the shape of him still imprinted in your sheets. Then, absurdly, a laugh bubbled up in your throat and you covered your face to muffle it.

Frankie gave you a withering look, but then his mouth twitched. He tried to fight it, but a crooked smile formed anyway.

“Don’t laugh,” he said.

You dropped your hands and sat upright, taking charge. “You need to leave. I’ll check the hallway.”

You climbed out of bed, your bare feet pressing against the cool floor as you padded to the door. Frankie stayed seated, still shirtless, clearly trying to recalibrate his entire nervous system.

“And what am I supposed to say if someone asks where I was?” he called softly behind you.

You shrugged without turning. “Tell them you went for an early walk. You needed air. That sounds plausible.”

He paused. You could tell he was running the script in his head. Eventually, he gave a faint nod, convinced.

You cracked open the door and peered down both sides of the hall.

“All clear,” you said. Then you turned back and made a beckoning gesture. “Come on. Quiet.”

His steps were quick but soundless. He reached you at the door. Just before he slipped past, he paused and turned back to you.

He reached out, his hand sliding gently along your jaw before pulling you in. You were already smiling when he kissed you—soft, unhurried. Your hand came up to his face, your thumb brushing his cheek. The other rested on the doorframe.

Then you pulled apart. Your eyes met and lingered.

But then his smile faltered.

His eyes flicked to something over your shoulder, and you turned.

“Shit,” Frankie said, turning to look at you again. There was no one there.

You let your backpack slip from your shoulder, the weight of it landing softly on the dry ground. A sigh escaped you before you could think about it, drawn out and exhausted, like your body had finally caught up to the heat pressing against your skin. The Texas sun had a way of making everything feel heavier, like it wasn’t just light, but something dense and physical settling on your shoulders.

Ahead of you, the river shimmered like a gift. Cool, blue, the kind of blue that doesn’t exist anywhere else except in water. It twisted gently, reflecting the same sun that had turned your cheeks pink and your shirt damp against your back.

You watched the water for a moment, letting yourself believe it was a prize, a quiet reward for keeping pace with everyone this morning.

Behind you, the group had already started to scatter, finding patches of shade beneath an oak tree, tossing down their bags, laughing softly about the hike. You didn’t join them right away. You turned your head and watched them from a distance, caught somewhere between the relief of arrival and the residue of everything.

You’d left the cabin early. Not too long after you and Frankie had gotten up.

When you came downstairs, Santi and Yov were already in the kitchen, eating toast and eggs and talking around bites. Will had just walked in from outside, his voice carrying that wide-open tone he used in the mornings, saying something about how perfect the weather was. He passed you with a smile, disappearing into the living room.

You slid into the chair beside your brother, careful not to draw attention to yourself, especially not to the fact that Frankie wasn’t there.

“Where’s Ben?” you asked, reaching for a piece of toast, trying to sound casual.

Santi shrugged without looking up. “He went to grab something upstairs.”

You weren’t usually hungry this early—it made your stomach feel strange—but you forced yourself to eat anyway. Just enough to get through the day. Yov placed a plate in front of you, scrambled eggs and toast, and you thanked her with a quiet smile. You poured yourself coffee despite Santi’s insistence that you’d want juice.

You had just lifted the mug to your lips when Benny appeared beside you, already dressed. He sat down next to you, tugging his cap into place, and studied you for a moment before speaking.

“Do you have something for your head?” he asked.

You nodded, swallowing before answering. “Yeah. A cap.”

“Good,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting. He nodded, like he was proud of you for remembering something so obvious, even though you’d lived in Texas long enough to know better than to forget it.

“Where’s Fish?” he asked, his voice light.

“I thought he was still upstairs,” Santi said through a mouthful of food. “Didn’t see him come down.”

Benny raised his eyebrows. “He wasn’t in bed when I woke up.”

Your eyes dropped to your plate. The toast there became infinitely interesting, as if your life depended on inspecting its edges, its uneven crust. You could feel the warmth rising in your cheeks.

Santi’s gaze lingered on you. “Did you see him?”

“What?” Your response came too fast, the pitch of it sharp. “No. Why?”

He tilted his head slightly, the beginning of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Just thought maybe. Maybe you knew, I dunno.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t look up.

“I think I heard someone leave earlier,” Yov offered, her tone gentle. She glanced at you. “Maybe around an hour ago.”

Will came into the kitchen then. He didn’t look at anyone, just went to the sink and turned on the tap.

“Who?” he asked as he rinsed his hands.

“Frankie,” Santi said.

Will nodded. “Yeah, I saw him outside a moment ago.”

It hit you then, how your throat felt tight in a way that had nothing to do with thirst.

Frankie walked in a few minutes later, dressed for the hike, or whatever it was they were calling this. White T-shirt, cargo shorts, grey cap.

You didn’t look at him for long. Just enough to say, “Morning.” Barely louder than a whisper.

Then you turned back to your food. Pretending you hadn’t just been thinking about him the entire time.

Two hours had passed. Now you stood with your arms folded across your chest, watching the river from where you’d stopped. The air felt heavier now, dense with heat and dried sweat, but there was something calming about the slow, steady movement of the water. It had that look of invitation. Blue and soft, like it knew how badly your body ached and was promising relief. You didn’t move. You just stared.

Then, without needing to hear him, you felt him.

“Looks like a good spot to jump in,” Frankie said.

You turned your head, only slightly. He was right next to you, hands braced on his hips, his gaze focused straight ahead. The corners of his eyes were pulled tight against the light, his jaw set in that way you were beginning to recognize, calm, thoughtful, like he was already weighing what it would feel like to fall into the river.

The sun lit up the back of his neck, catching on the damp curls that had slipped free from under his cap. His hair glowed in shades of brown and something warmer, like honey or amber, though you weren’t sure how much of that was the actual color and how much was the way you were looking at him now.

His skin shimmered under the light, a thin sheen of sweat painting it gold. You felt something low in your stomach twist. You could see the fine lines where his shoulder met his neck, the kind of lines that made your mouth feel heavy with want. You wondered, almost absently, what he’d taste like—salt and heat, skin soft and warm against your tongue, his pulse thudding steady beneath your lips.

You knew you’d spent most of the morning watching him.

At the beginning of the hike, he’d been just ahead of you, walking with long, purposeful strides that made it hard not to notice the lines of his body. His legs, the rhythm of them. The way his back shifted every time he adjusted his pack, the way his arms caught the light. Even the way he turned his head to talk to Santi or Will—just his profile. It was all you could see.

And all you could think about was how much you wanted to be alone with him. Just the two of you, without all the others, without the space between your bodies feeling like something you weren’t allowed to cross.

Later, after someone had insisted on taking photos—of the trees, the group, a blurry attempt at capturing the light through the leaves—he’d fallen behind. Your personal viewing window had closed. He and Benny stayed at the back, talking in low voices.

Now, he was here again.

Your eyes dipped to his forearms—folded now, skin taut over muscle—and then back up, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah,” you said. “I like it. It’s not that high.”

He glanced sideways at you, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

“Spoken like someone who’s jumped out of a plane.”

You shrugged, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth like it was no big deal.

“I’ve jumped off a rock before.”

“A cliff?” he asked, tilting his head, intrigued.

“This isn’t a cliff,” you said, glancing down at the water. It looked cooler than before. Or maybe your body had just gotten warmer. “It’s like... a few feet. Barely.”

Frankie didn’t speak right away. When you turned to look at him, he was already watching you, head tilted just slightly, like he was trying to figure something out.

“Would you ever want to jump off a cliff?” he asked, voice casual, but his gaze a little too direct to be casual at all.

A smile spread across your lips before you could stop it.

“Are you trying to add something else to my list?”

He frowned, just a flicker between his brows, and then shrugged. “Just throwing it out there.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “The list is officially closed.”

“God, Shortcake, you’re boring,” he murmured.

Then he nudged your hip with his, barely a touch, a quiet kind of teasing. It made you laugh, without thinking.

But the laughter died on your lips when a hand curled gently around the back of your neck.

Santi.

You hadn’t noticed him walking up behind you. His hand was firm but affectionate, his other hand landing on the back of Frankie’s neck like you were both kids caught whispering during class.

“What kind of trouble are you two trying to cook up now?” he asked, smiling.

“For now?” you replied, matching his tone. “Nothing at all.”

Santi gave a short, skeptical laugh and let you both go, already shifting into a new conversation with Frankie that you didn’t really catch. You took the moment to drift away, feet finding the shaded patch of ground where Yov was already sitting with a water bottle in one hand, her legs stretched out. She had her face turned up slightly to the breeze, her expression open and peaceful in the way yours wasn’t.

You peeled off your t-shirt. The air kissed your skin immediately, fresh and clean, and the faint scents of sunscreen and fabric softener rose up from your body. You folded the shirt, setting it on your backpack, and pushed your shorts down too, leaving them in a heap on top. It felt good to be lighter, closer to the air, the river.

“This place is so pretty,” Yov said, tying her hair up without looking at you. “I’m surprised it’s not more crowded.”

You nodded, opening your water bottle, the plastic clicking softly between your fingers.

“Will said it’s the location. This part’s kind of tucked away.”

“Makes sense,” she said. “There were way more people back near that ranch we passed.”

“Yeah, totally.” You popped the bottle cap with your teeth, then took a long sip, cold water trickling down your throat.

Yov was digging through her purse, eyes focused, fingers moving.

“By the way… I’m glad you and Frankie are getting along better.”

Your head turned toward her too fast, voice higher than you meant it to be.

“Yeah? I mean—yeah. Me too. It’s not bad. It’s—”

“He’s sweet with you,” Yov said, cutting in softly. Her smile didn’t fade. “And you two look good together.”

Heat bloomed across your face, impossible to ignore.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s not like that,” you said, too quickly. “I mean, yeah, we’re finally... getting along. That’s all.”

Yov looked up then, eyes calm, her expression unreadable but kind.

“I didn’t say it was like anything,” she said, voice light. “Just an observation. Santi told me you’ve gotten close. I think it’s nice. Honestly? I always thought you had chemistry.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. I mean, it takes a lot of chemistry to argue the way you two used to. It was like watching a play. Perfect timing, every time. Very entertaining.”

You huffed, laughing a little despite yourself. “Don’t worry. We’ll probably still argue at some point. It’s kind of our thing.”

Yov stood and brushed off the back of her legs. She gave you a small, satisfied glance over her shoulder as she made her way toward the riverbank, a few steps from the large rock you had been standing on a moment ago, like the conversation hadn’t meant much. But you stayed frozen there for a second, her words echoing somewhere you couldn’t reach just yet.

You looked toward the river, where Frankie was now stepping into the shallows with the guys, water glittering around his ankles.

Eventually, you waded into the water too. It reached your waist, cool and patient against your skin, tugging softly at your limbs like it had all the time in the world. You didn’t say anything to the others. Just walked past them toward a more secluded stretch, still within earshot but distant enough to let your thoughts unfold without interruption.

The current brushed along your sides, steady and alive. You lifted your arms, letting your fingers drift beneath the surface as you leaned back a little, shifting your weight into the water’s quiet resistance. It moved around you like silk, circling your body with something that felt startlingly close to affection.

You closed your eyes.

Behind you, their voices lifted and fell in pieces. They were planning dinner. Something about starting a fire out back. Benny was lobbying for something delicious and meaty, “a real meal.” Will wanted to order something instead. Santi mentioned needing a nap. Yov told him to get over it. And then Frankie added a few quiet remarks.

You stood there, eyes closed, chest light.

For a moment, you thought of Mr. Darcy—curled in your apartment, probably asleep on the windowsill, or just now waking up to the sound of Ester opening the door. You trusted her. She was a nice old lady that lived alone in the building next door and liked to send you pictures of him while you were away. Once, she texted a photo with the caption your prince is inconsolable. And you’d stared at the image for longer than you should’ve—his expression, the vague misery in his posture, like he was punishing you with silence. Poor guy.

You tipped your head back into the water. It ran over your scalp and into your hair, cool and comforting. It was so quiet inside your own body you almost didn’t recognize it. Nothing pressing in your chest, nothing unspoken straining against the cage of your ribs. Just this stillness. This softness.

The sun filtered down in loose golden streaks. The trees framed the sky above you like something from a picture book. You could hear the others laughing again. Someone had said something funny, and you could tell by the way Frankie’s laugh cut through the others.

It curled its way toward you across the water.

And for the first time in longer than you could remember, you weren’t thinking about what came next. There was only this: your body buoyed gently by the river, your fingertips grazing the current, the sound of their voices threading through the distance like a string tying you to something solid.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been floating there. But when you opened your eyes again, it felt like coming up for air after a dream. The world looked soft-edged and brighter somehow, voices drifting faintly from the shore like the low hum of a radio in another room.

You turned in the water and began to swim back. The conversation came into focus as you got closer.

“What are you guys talking about?” you asked.

“Santi wants to set Fish up with someone,” he said, half-laughing.

You reached them and tilted your head. “Yeah?”

You looked at Frankie then. His eyes dropped to the surface of the water, and he gave a sheepish shake of his head. Color had climbed high on his cheekbones, blooming across his face. You caught yourself smiling before you meant to.

“Cass,” Santi answered, grinning. “You remember Cass, right?”

“Your neighbor?” you asked, brows arching.

“That’s the one,” he nodded. “Frankie already knows her. He thinks she’s nice.”

Frankie groaned and threw a handful of water in your brother’s direction. “I said she was cute one time, Santi. Four years ago.”

Santi wiped his face and laughed. “Still counts. And since you’ve been so open to new experiences lately, I figured, why not?”

Frankie made a noise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Santi didn’t answer right away. He looked at Frankie for a moment too long, like he was waiting for something to register. Frankie just blinked at him, brow furrowed.

“The bar,” Santi said finally. “The other night?”

“Jesus Christ,” Frankie muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re like a tabloid.”

Benny perked up immediately. “What happened at the bar?”

You weren’t sure what expression to wear. You tried for neutral but it felt like your face might betray you at any second. You looked around, feigning curiosity, hoping someone else would speak first.

“Fish didn’t go home alone,” Santi said, smug as hell,.

Will turned to Frankie, arms crossed. “You told him about that?”

You frowned, confused. Frankie clicked his tongue, like the sound could cancel out whatever was happening around him. His gaze dropped again, feigning indifference—but when he looked back up, it landed squarely on you. Just two seconds, maybe less, but his eyes said it all: what the fuck.

Will let out a low laugh, tilting his head. “Okay, so I’m not the only one who was confused?”

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Benny asked, eyes narrowed behind the glint of sunlight on water.

Yovanna exhaled like she’d seen this show before. She leaned back into the river, elbows skimming the surface as she looked up at the sky. You caught her eye; she gave a tiny shake of her head.

“They’re just bored,” Frankie said. “And nosy.”

“I went to see him the other day, Sunday,” Santiago offered, lifting his hands and splashing water between them like punctuation. “And he wasn’t alone.”

You felt your throat tighten, a constriction that came on too fast, like your body was bracing for impact before you could stop it.

“I don’t know who he was with,” Santi added casually, and just like that, your breath returned. “But this asshole let me ramble on about a lawnmower for two full minutes before even mentioning he had company.”

Will blinked, processing.

“Oh, wait, I thought that...” he started, then cut himself off with a short laugh. “Wait, that’s why you texted me at, like, seven in the morning too?”

Benny snorted and tilted his face toward the sun.

“You’re all ridiculous,” he said, not bothering to hide his amusement. “This is embarrassing. Can we not?”

Frankie exhaled through his nose, jaw tense.

“I’m not trying to meet anyone else,” he said, and this time his voice held a different kind of weight.

You noticed how his gaze shifted—glanced near you, past you, never landing.

He turned to Santiago, eyes narrowed, and hurled another splash of water at him. “And you are the nosiest motherfucker I know.”

Santiago just laughed, shaking his head as the water dripped down his cheeks. “Yeah, well. Sorry.”

You stepped back a little, your movement gentle, instinctive. You caught Will watching you—eyes squinting against the sun, his expression unreadable for a beat. Then he smiled.

“Anyone else?” Benny repeated, with a smirk. “Who’ve you been hanging around with, Fish?”

You looked away instinctively. Your eyes shut tightly.

“I thought you didn’t care, Ben,” Frankie cut in, his voice light but unmistakably pointed.

“Yeah, well, you're not exactly making it easy,” Benny shot back, laughing.

“Leave him alone,” Yov interrupted, already holding up her phone. “And stand closer. I want a picture.”

You opened your eyes just in time to catch Frankie glancing at you. His cheeks were flushed a deep, unmistakable red, like he’d just stepped out of the sun.

Time moved oddly after that. An hour maybe, or something near it. You weren’t keeping track. You were sitting under the wide arms of a tree with a book resting in your lap: The Dangers of Smoking in Bed. But your eyes were only pretending to read. The words blurred at the edges. You kept glancing up at the others, who were lying in the sun, limbs tangled with ease, sunglasses perched lazily, passing around sandwiches and sweating bottles of soda and beer cans.

Frankie turned his head and looked at you. No shirt, his swim shorts clinging to him, and the cap he’d soaked in the river was still damp, now resting on his head. Thin beads of water traced slow, quiet paths down the slope of his neck and spine.

He stood, stretched, walked toward you without a word. Then he sat down next to you, the shade folding around the both of you like a loose blanket. No one else seemed to notice.

“Hey,” he said. “You okay? Hungry?”

He held out a sandwich. You took it from his hand.

“I’m fine. You?”

Frankie sighed. “I’m okay. Santi’s been on my case a little, don’t you think?”

“On you about what?”

Frankie shrugged, his eyes drifting out toward the river.

“I dunno. He doesn’t know anything, right? You haven’t said anything?”

“No,” you said, your fingers brushing a page you weren’t reading. “Why?”

He lifted one shoulder again, casual but not quite. “Just had a weird feeling.”

“Benny told him this morning you weren’t in bed when he woke up,” you added, still not looking at him. “But that was all.”

“I climbed out the window this morning,” he said, barely above a whisper.

You blinked, then looked at him fully, mouth parted in disbelief. “Frankie. We were on the second floor.”

“I know.”

“You jumped?”

“No,” he said, like the idea insulted him. “There’s a tree right next to it. I climbed down.”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, quiet and stunned. “You’re unbelievable. Sneaking around like some teenager.”

“Me sneaking?” He turned to you with mock offense, narrowing his eyes. “Let’s get one thing straight—we’re sneaking. Don’t go pinning this all on me, gorgeous. This takes two.”

You rolled your eyes, but your mouth twitched at the corners.

He watched you for a second or two, then dug into his backpack and pulled out his phone.

“Can I take a picture of you?” he said, and his voice had dropped, quieter than it needed to be.

You blinked. “What?”

“Just look at me,” he said, holding up his phone. “Please.”

You felt the heat rising to your cheeks. “I look awful.”

“No, you don’t. Smile.”

He snapped a few pictures, fast, before you could duck or turn away. You sat there, trying to look normal while every inch of you buzzed with self-awareness. No one else seemed to be watching, and yet you felt exposed.

Frankie lowered the phone, still looking at the screen. He smiled—small, crooked, a little amused.

You didn’t ask to see the photos. He didn’t offer to show them.

Frankie sat slouched in a folding chair, facing the fire, his elbows resting loosely on his knees, the weight of the day clinging to him like something physical. He exhaled—long, worn out, the kind of breath that came after too much sun. Around him, the guys lounged with beers in their hands, half-laughing, half-exhausted, their faces soft in the amber light of the fire. The air had cooled just enough to make the heat from the flames feel nice.

To his right, you sat—one chair over, with Will in between. Will looked content, his long legs stretched out in front of him, head tipped back slightly, like he could fall asleep right there if no one spoke to him for five minutes.

The day had dragged in a way that wasn’t unpleasant, just thick. Long. Saturated with too much sun, too much heat, too much of you.

That morning, by the river, Frankie had been doing everything in his power not to look at you. Or at least, not to stare. Which, honestly, felt impossible. You had appeared in that damn black bikini like you didn’t know what it did to people. To him. And maybe you didn’t know. Maybe you really were just running your fingers through your wet hair and stepping in and out of the water because you liked the way it felt on your skin.

Or maybe you did know. And if you did, you were dangerous in a way he wasn’t equipped to handle.

Water had dripped down your body in small, glinting rivulets, catching the sunlight as they moved over the lines of your stomach, your arms, the curve behind your knee. And every now and then, Frankie caught himself watching, tracking those drops as if all his military training culminated in that action. He’d looked away, swallowed hard, pretended to be focused on a conversation that didn’t exist.

On the walk back to the cabin, you'd sighed, soft and barely audible, pressing your hand to the back of your neck as if the weight of the day had suddenly caught up with you. Your eyes were closed, and there was something so unconsciously sensual about the gesture that it had lodged itself under Frankie’s skin. You were wearing a soaked t-shirt over your bikini, and it clung in places it shouldn’t have. And your shorts—God. They barely covered anything. He’d walked behind you most of the way back, jaw clenched, stomach tight, hyper-aware of the memory of his hand on the exact place where your thigh met your hip.

He reminded himself, over and over, that he was a grown man. A rational man. That whatever this was, whatever pull you had over him, he had to control it. He had to. But that didn’t change how much effort it took not to reach for you.

When you finally made it back to the cabin, you disappeared into the bathroom without saying a word. He heard the shower come on and stood still for a moment, hand on the back of his neck, the same way you’d done earlier. The guys, of course, decided it was the perfect time to go into town and pick up groceries for dinner. It should’ve been quick. In and out.

But then Will saw a car he liked outside a dusty mechanic’s shop just past the store, and that was it—they’d been there for over an hour, poking around under the hood, talking to the owner like they were going to make a deal. Frankie had stood there half-listening, half-simmering, his mind tracing its way back to the cabin again and again.

When they got back, the sun was lower. The living room was dim, save for the flicker of the TV. Yov was on the couch with you, and you were practically curled into yourself, eyes fluttering closed, head leaning against the backrest like you hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but couldn’t stop it from happening.

The afternoon had passed with an easy weight to it. Santi offered to help Benny with dinner, and no one really objected. The rest of you wandered around the cabin, some settling on the porch with drinks, others inside pretending to be helpful. There was music playing low from someone’s speaker, and the kitchen filled with the scent of grilled vegetables and meat, a later with the sound of clinking silverware and opened beer bottles.

By the time everyone sat down to eat, there was a kind of collective exhaustion in the air. Plates were scraped clean. Jokes became quieter. At least one of you sighed audibly after finishing their second helping. The energy didn’t fizzle out; it softened.

And then Will, eyes bright, insisted on making use of the night.

“You can’t just go to bed with the sky looking like that,” he said, gesturing up with his beer. “Come on. It’s perfect out.”

So someone grabbed wood, and someone else lit the fire, and chairs were pulled around the growing flame. The sky stretched above you; clear and velvet-black, scattered with stars, while the trees rustled gently. The fire cracked steadily, its soft amber glow dancing on the faces around you.

Frankie noticed you had your phone in your hand. So he reached for his own, brightness dimmed almost to nothing. Opened the chat.

[Frankie]: I’ll go see u when everyone’s asleep

[Frankie]: DO NOT fall asleep

He looked up. You glanced down at your screen, then back at him, just briefly. No one noticed.

His phone buzzed quietly.

[🍓]: YOU don’t fall asleep, you’re too old to be climbing out windows

[🍓]: and you’re impatient. did something happen?

Frankie took a sip of his beer. He started typing.

[Frankie]: nothing

[Frankie]: just want to be alone with u

He wrote another message, stared at it for a second, erased it.

Then, typed again.

[Frankie]: I want to see that bikini again

A beat later, he saw the shape of your mouth lift—something involuntary, too small for anyone else to catch, but not for him. Not when he knew what had caused it.

Then you stood up.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, casually, to no one in particular.

Frankie didn’t track you with his eyes. Instead, he glanced toward Yov, who was laughing hard now, explaining something to Will with wide hand gestures. Benny and Santi were in their own world.

Two minutes passed. Maybe three.

Then you were back, settling quietly into your chair again. Not saying anything. Not looking at him.

He kept his eyes forward, mouth resting against the lip of his beer bottle. The fire popped quietly between you. The others kept talking.

Then his phone vibrated again. A tiny sound, barely noticeable. He raised the bottle to his lips and, without really thinking about it, unlocked the screen with one hand.

The chat was still open.

A new message. From you.

It happened in an instant.

One second, Frankie was lifting the bottle to his lips. The next, he was choking on it—actually choking. A sudden, involuntary cough broke in his chest, and he leaned forward with a hand pressed tightly to his mouth, trying to contain the sound, the sputter, the mess of it all.

The bottle clinked against the leg of his chair as he set it down, coughing into his fist. His other hand moved fast, locking his phone and flipping it face-down in his lap like it had burned him.

“Jesus, Frank,” Santi said, half-laughing, half-concerned, as he reached across to tap him between the shoulder blades. “You alright?”

Frankie nodded without lifting his head, his eyes watering slightly. He couldn’t answer yet. Air was caught in his throat, and he could still taste beer where it didn’t belong.

“I’m fine,” he managed, voice hoarse but steady.

The others laughed, murmurs of concern already shifting back to amusement. But Frankie wasn’t laughing.

He could still feel the image burned behind his eyelids.

After a moment, he turned his phone over again. Unlocked it. Looked.

Your face wasn’t in it. You’d been careful. The angle was soft, almost casual. It looked like you were lying down. One hand lifting your shirt, along with your bra. Skin exposed. The gentle curve of your breasts in dim light. Nipples tight.

Frankie locked the phone again.

He looked over at you.

You were saying something to Will, smiling like you hadn’t just lit him on fire. You didn’t glance in his direction once.

He leaned back in his chair and exhaled through his nose, eyes fixed on the fire now, pretending to care about the conversation he couldn’t hear. Pretending his body wasn’t suddenly too warm in the night air.

He wasn’t going to survive this. Not tonight.

You were lying on your back, half-buried beneath the covers, your phone balanced against your knee, the screen casting a faint blue glow across your face. The only other light in the room came from the small warm lamp on the nightstand.

The knock was soft—three taps. You blinked, then turned your head toward the door, your pulse lifting slightly without permission.

You got up without speaking, your bare feet silent against the wooden floor. When you opened the door, Frankie stepped inside, shirtless, his hair soft and tousled, one hand raised like a warning.

“Shh, be quiet,” he whispered, his voice low but not sharp. “Just—listen.”

You paused. In the silence, you heard it—someone snoring faintly down the hall.

“Dead asleep,” he confirmed, his mouth curving with amusement as he moved past you.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of you. Watching him sit on the edge of the bed.

“Good,” you said under your breath, still smiling. “But we can’t fall asleep tonight.”

He leaned back on his palms, spine loose, legs apart. “I don’t plan on sleeping.”

You joined him, sitting just close enough that your knees brushed. You tilted your head toward him.

“So what are you planning?”

Frankie squinted, skeptical and amused. “Me? What are you planning?”

“Me?”

“All innocent,” he said, scoffing lightly. “M' not buying it.”

Your lips parted with a soft, guilty smile you didn’t bother to hide.

You reached up and touched the side of his neck, just under his ear. His body responded almost instantly, his frame inching closer to yours like you’d flipped some invisible switch.

You kissed him gently, without rush, your mouth brushing his tenderly. Your hand slipped down the line of his chest, pausing where skin met waistband.

When you pulled back, the kiss lingered in the air between you, a warm and breathy echo.

Frankie exhaled slowly through his nose. His eyes were on you now—serious, weighted, hungry.

"I nearly died out there, just so you know."

You turned to look at him, a smirk tugging at your mouth.

“Oh, right. My bad.”

Frankie’s lips twitched, a crooked grin appearing as he leaned a little closer.

“Your brother was right next to me. I mean—right there.”

You tilted your head, amused. “I don’t think he was that close. No way he saw your phone screen.”

“It was excruciating.”

You gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Did you like it?”

And as you asked, you reached for the waistband of his pajama pants, your fingers curling under the elastic.

Frankie’s smile shifted. Something about it softened, like the quiet that follows a long day. He looked warm in the low light, a little wrecked from tiredness, eyes heavy-lidded but intent on you. That exhaustion only made you want him closer.

“Of course I did,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “I'd make it my lockscreen.”

You laughed, the sound low and easy, and he went on, grinning now. “Or print it out. Stick it to my fridge like a motivational quote.”

“That’s absurd,” you said, nudging his shoulder.

“I could frame it. Put it right on my nightstand,” he added. “So it’s the first thing I see in the morning.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling as your chest tightened with affection. “You’re ridiculous.”

Frankie chuckled and leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek with unexpected tenderness, while his other arm anchored him against the mattress. Your eyes fluttered shut as he kissed you, and then—slowly, unhurried but wanting—and his hand left your face, slid down, and slipped beneath your shirt like it had been waiting there all night. When he reached your chest, his touch was careful, fingers shaping to your skin. He found your nipple and pressed just hard enough to make your breath catch and your mouth open against his.

He broke the kiss, lips brushing your cheek. “Shh. You have to be quiet, okay?”

You nodded, dazed, already giving in to the way his mouth began to explore your neck, his breath catching every time you made a tiny sound. But still, you held yourself back—barely. You just let your hand wander down his stomach, pausing, and then kept going. Deeper, slower, until you felt him—hot and hard under your touch, his body reacting to you instantly.

Frankie exhaled against your skin, almost a gasp, his hand still curled beneath your shirt. His thumb brushed softly over you, teasing, while his eyes found your face again. He watched you closely, something wild and reverent flickering behind his expression as your hand moved beneath his waistband. His gaze was steady, like he didn’t want to miss a second of you.

And all the while, you kept touching him. Just like that.

You shifted your hips back, just enough to give yourself space, and tugged his pajama pants down with both hands. His cock sprang up, pressing against his abdomen for a second or two—heavy, flushed, impossibly warm-looking—before you reached for him again.

You glanced up at him once, your lips parting, and then you leaned in, letting your mouth hover just above him. You licked your bottom lip without thinking, some reflex of want and anticipation, and then brought your mouth to him, starting with the head, soft and sensitive, your tongue circling the tip in gentle, wet passes. His hips flexed, just barely, like he was trying not to move.

You took him in little by little, your lips stretching, adjusting. The weight of him on your tongue felt somehow both foreign and familiar. Each inch you pulled him deeper, your throat relaxed, focused entirely on the way he felt, the sound of his breath.

Frankie’s hand slid down your spine, pausing at the small of your back. His fingers splayed out and then moved up, over your shoulder blades, until he reached the back of your neck. He didn’t push, didn’t guide—he just touched you, his palm resting there like he needed the anchor. His breath had gone rough around the edges, ragged but restrained, like he was holding himself back for your sake.

You lifted your head slightly, then sank back down. You began to move—repeating the motion, letting your mouth glide over him with increasing confidence, your tongue shifting and shaping around him inside the heat of your mouth. It didn’t take long to find a rhythm you liked, one that made your thighs press together and your hand grip firmer at the base, thumb smoothing over a spot you knew he liked to have touched.

Your own breath was coming in shorter bursts now, warm against his skin, but you barely noticed. You liked the feel of him like this. Hot and full in your mouth, your lips stretched wide, the taste of salt and skin and something entirely him coating your tongue. You felt possessed by it. Content.

Frankie’s fingers wandered again, skimming the line of your spine like he was memorizing it. Then they tangled in your hair, gentle, his touch reverent. He brushed the strands away from your face and tucked one behind your ear with a kind of care that made your chest ache.

You pulled back slowly, letting him slip free from your mouth with a soft, wet sound that made both of you inhale at the same time. Your hand wrapped around him, still moving, still giving. You looked up.

His eyes were fixed on you, wide and dark and glazed with heat. His mouth was parted slightly, like he was halfway to saying something but forgot how.

And when he smiled—crooked, dazed—you smiled back.

He guided you back with one hand at your shoulder.

“Lock the door,” you whispered, barely audible.

Frankie didn’t hesitate. He stood abruptly, his pajama pants and boxers dropping in a tangle at his feet. He stepped out of them in a single movement, already crossing the room. You watched his back as he reached for the latch, his muscles shifting under his skin.

While he moved, you leaned back and slid your pajama shorts down your legs, folding them and setting them aside like it mattered where they ended up. Then you shifted to the center of the bed, body alert, waiting.

The frame creaked as Frankie returned and climbed back beside you. The noise was louder than you expected in the quiet, and you flinched.

“The bed,” you murmured, eyes fluttering shut.

He smiled against your skin. “I know.”

His hands planted firmly on either side of you, bracing himself. Then he bent down to kiss you. You felt the full weight of it—the pressure of his mouth, the wet insistence of his tongue slipping past your lips. You moaned without meaning to, the sound escaping from somewhere deep in your chest.

Frankie pulled back, lips brushing yours. “Quiet.”

His hand moved to the hem of your shirt, and he leaned back, kneeling between your legs. You sat up, wordless, lifting your arms as he peeled the fabric over your head.

He didn’t hesitate. Your panties were gone a breath later, your legs parted easily beneath his touch. He held your thighs in place for a moment, looking at you like he was trying to memorize the exact way your body curved beneath him.

Your whole body was buzzing, tense and wanting. You’d been feeling it for hours, ever since he'd looked at you that morning, with that unreadable expression. The way he’d watched you with his jaw tight, his hands fisted casually at his sides. You’d known then. And now, right here, in a darkened room where noise wasn’t allowed, the want had sharpened into something more unbearable. Something thrilling.

He dipped his head to your neck and bit down, not harsh, but enough to make you twitch. Then his mouth started its path downward, grazing your collarbone, the slope of your chest. When he reached your breast, he opened his mouth and took your nipple between his lips. His tongue moved in small, greedy strokes, and your back arched without permission, a gasp caught in your throat.

He pulled away, his mouth wet, his eyes bright with mischief and something rawer.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he said, his voice low. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Your fingers found his hair, the other hand cupping his jaw. “Yeah?”

“That damn black bikini,” he muttered, his tone husky. “You don’t even know what you were doing to me. I wanted to tear it off with my teeth.”

A shaky laugh bubbled from your chest. You tugged gently at his hair. “You’re a mess.”

Frankie laughed quietly, the sound low in his throat, and brought his fingers to his lips. Then, without another word, his hand slid down between your legs, fingers brushing over the wet heat of you like he already knew exactly what he’d find.

You inhaled sharply, your hips bucking toward his hand almost instinctively, your body answering him before your mind could catch up.

He dipped his head to your neck, pressing a kiss there—open-mouthed, breath warm—just as his fingers began to explore, working you open with a steady rhythm that made your legs tense and your pulse scatter.

Then, without warning, one finger slipped inside you.

You gasped, but it was soundless, your mouth parting like you wanted to cry out and forgot how. The only thing you could hear was the wet, unmistakable sound of his hand working against you, obscene and quiet at once in the dim room.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, voice gravelled and close to your ear, like a secret. “Fucking dripping for me.”

Something inside you clenched at the sound of him—the gritted warmth in his voice, the weight of his breath against your skin. You shivered, not from cold but from the ache of it, from the way your body lit up when he spoke like that.

“Show me,” he said, “how quiet you can be with a full house.”

Your hips started to move again, grinding into the pressure of his hand, your eyes fluttering shut. Frankie didn’t stop you, he only pushed another finger inside, filling you deeper this time, curving them just right until they found that place that made you unravel. Your mouth opened on a moan you couldn’t release, your breath stuttering as your head dropped back against the pillows. The muscles in your stomach tightened. You felt out of control.

Frankie lifted his head, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. When you opened your eyes, his face was hovering above yours, eyes dark and locked on you, watching every twitch, every shudder.

Then his thumb pressed against your clit and began to circle, light at first, then firmer, with intent.

It was too much. Everything was hot and electric. Your body felt like it could crack open. Your chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. You gripped his forearm without realizing.

He murmured, “So damn beautiful,” like he was speaking to himself more than to you.

And then—everything stopped.

His fingers stilled. The heat between your legs cooled into confusion.

Your eyes flew open.

He was watching you like he’d forgotten his own name. His chest rising, flushed from collarbone to cheekbone. He looked... wrecked. Beautiful. And totally gone for you.

His hand drifted from between your thighs to the curve of your waist, then higher, stroking across your stomach with featherlight reverence.

“I need you to do something for me,” he murmured.

You blinked. Your breath still hadn’t evened out.

“Frankie…”

He lay down beside you without speaking, shifting onto his back. The pillow beneath his head was tossed carelessly to the floor. Then he propped himself on his elbows, eyes already scanning your face. You pushed yourself upright, the sheets rustling around your thighs. His hand found your hip first—fingertips brushing your skin, grounding you. He rolled onto his side and slid his palm to your waist.

“Sit on my face,” he said into your ear, the words rough-edged and close. “Come on, baby.”

It made you laugh—quietly, nervously. Your mouth twitched into a smile before you could suppress it.

“Frankie,” you whispered, placing a hand on his chest, the heat of his skin spreading beneath your palm.

He was already lying flat, arms outstretched, looking up at you like he’d been waiting.

“I’ve never—” you started, shaking your head, voice catching like you’d run out of air. “God.”

“You’ve never done it before?”

You shook your head again, a little embarrassed, feeling your face go hot.

“That’s okay,” he said softly, tapping two fingers against his mouth like an invitation. “You want to try? If you don’t like it, we stop. No questions asked.”

The tension in your chest unraveled, just a little. He always said things like that—as if your pleasure was just as interesting to him as his own. Maybe more.

You bit your lip and nodded. The nerves didn’t vanish, but something steadier took over. Wanting.

You straddled him, knees on either side of his ribs, heart thudding. He gripped your thighs immediately, guiding you higher on his body, closer to where he wanted you, where you now felt almost dizzy with anticipation. You braced your hands on the headboard behind him, catching your breath, your stomach twisting like you were standing at the edge of something enormous.

Frankie’s hands tightened at your thighs. Then he pulled you toward his mouth, gently but insistently. And when his tongue met you—just a soft, almost reverent touch—you let your eyes fall closed.

He groaned beneath you, not loudly, but enough that you felt it vibrate straight through your core.

“Sit down, baby,” he murmured into your skin.

You looked down at him, your fingers brushing through his hair. His eyes were half-lidded, mouth already open.

“I’m gonna crush you,” you whispered, voice tinged with breathless laughter.

He clicked his tongue, grinning faintly.

“You won’t.” His grip tightened. “Come on. Sit.”

And so you did.

You let your body go, easing your weight onto him, feeling the warm, slick press of his mouth between your thighs. He didn’t hesitate—his hands firm on your hips, holding you there, anchoring you. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes—no, not deliberate, more like he was savoring you. Like he’d waited all day for this.

The feeling was overwhelming. All-consuming. You gripped the headboard tighter, eyes fluttering shut as you rocked gently against his mouth, your stomach coiling with heat and need.

You didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. You couldn't, anyway. Just his hands, your body, the impossible tension building, the tender chaos of it.

Frankie held you tighter, groaning into you again, and you wondered how you’d ever gone this long without knowing what this felt like.

His mouth moved with intention, his tongue tracing the shape of you like he already knew exactly how you liked to be touched there. He sucked, not too hard, just enough to make your hips jerk forward instinctively, but every time they did, his hands pushed you gently back into place, grounding you. Holding you where he wanted you.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut, head tipping back as if you couldn’t quite bear the intensity. Your breath came out in broken fragments, shallow and fast, your body rising and falling with every pass of his tongue.

And then it happened—unexpected, sudden, like being pulled under by a wave you didn’t see coming. Your orgasm hit before you could prepare for it, the muscles in your stomach tightening so fast it didn’t feel real. It couldn’t have been more than two minutes, you were almost sure of it.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, hard, trying to silence the noise you felt building in your throat. It took everything in you not to cry out. Not to let him hear just how good he was making you feel.

But he didn’t stop.

The sounds he made—wet, insistent—echoed in the space between your legs. It was obscene, and it made everything inside you clench tighter, made your whole body feel like it was overheating.

It became too much. Your hand flew down to his head and you pulled back, your thighs twitching with aftershocks as his mouth slipped from you with a soft, wet sound.

You stayed where you were, breath coming in ragged pulls, your chest rising like you’d just run full speed down a street. Your entire body felt like it was burning, but you didn’t even think to move off him.

Frankie didn’t ask you to.

He read the moment with perfect clarity, even through the haze. His voice came next: “On your side.”

You obeyed without thinking, without a word. Rolled onto your side and slid backward until your body found his, your ass pressing against the hard length of him. He groaned at the contact, the sound dark and close behind you.

One of his arms slipped underneath your body, curling around your waist, pulling you tighter. The other found its way between your thighs, his fingers slick with your arousal. And then, without hesitation, he pushed inside.

You gasped, just air this time, and your lips parted as the stretch filled you up. He didn’t wait. His hips began to move at once, rhythm urgent, the sound of your bodies meeting soft and rhythmic in the silence of the room.

He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. His body was everywhere—behind you, around you, inside you—and the only thing you could do was feel it all. Every thrust. Every soft exhale. Every little tremor that said he was holding back, but barely.

“Oh, my God, Francisco—yes,” you gasped, your eyes shut.

His hand reached your mouth, fingers broad and warm, pressing over your lips. Not roughly. Just enough to muffle the sounds that kept trying to escape you as his hips worked harder, each movement more forceful, more certain than the last. His other hand slid over your stomach, fingertips finding that tender spot just above where you were joined, stroking you in quick, perfect circles.

The bed barely made a sound. Everything felt quiet except the wet hush of his body moving against yours and the jagged rhythm of his breathing right beside your ear. Like the whole world had shrunk to just this room, this bed, the breath and pressure and heat between your bodies.

It overwhelmed you. The depth of him inside you. The weight of his hand covering your mouth. The sensation of his fingers coaxing pleasure from you with such effortless precision. His voice wasn’t speaking anymore, but you could still feel it all over you.

You whimpered beneath his palm, and your body gave in. Your eyes stung. Your ears buzzed. The orgasm crashed into you without warning, without buildup, folding your body in half from the inside out. It was swift, sharp, all-consuming. You didn’t even recognize the sounds leaving your throat, but it didn’t matter. He had you covered. He had all of you.

And still, he didn’t stop. He moved through the aftershocks, chasing his own release, until finally his hand left your mouth and traveled up your stomach, wrapping around your middle, dragging you back into him. His arm held you tight as he came, a low, guttural sound rattling through his chest, so quiet, and yet so visceral. You felt it against your back like thunder under the skin.

You lay there like that, pressed together, tangled in sweat and heat and breath, until the edges of your awareness started to return.

He leaned in, kissed the slope of your shoulder with such aching softness it made your eyes flutter closed again. Your hand reached back instinctively, your fingers slipping through his hair, resting there.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you moved. Your bodies remained pressed together, your skin still warm, the rhythm of your breathing gradually settling into something calm and even.

Your eyes were shut, lashes brushing the pillow, and your cheek rested against the curve of his bicep. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips, and it almost lulled you into sleep.

Frankie gave you a soft pat on your butt. “Don’t fall asleep,” he murmured, voice rough and barely audible.

You let out a small click of your tongue and turned slowly until you were facing him. The room was dim, the outlines of his face just visible in the warm dark. You watched him for a few seconds, unsure what to say, or if anything even needed to be said.

“No one’s ever made me feel like that before,” you said eventually. It came out quiet, not as a compliment or a confession, but just the truth.

He reached up and touched your cheek, brushing your skin with the back of his fingers.

“That’s unfair,” he said. “We’ll do it again when we’re home. Then you can be as loud as you want.”

A breath of laughter escaped you as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re so cocky.”

He laughed, too—low and sleepy. He blinked slowly, his gaze heavy-lidded and content.

“You’re tired,” you murmured. “You should go to bed.”

“I’m not tempted, to be honest.”

“No?”

“A cold bed, small and empty... or a warm one with you in it,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Not much of a choice.”

You shook your head, laughing again, but quieter this time. “Okay, but you have to leave before it's too late. We really can’t fall asleep again.”

“I’ll set an alarm,” he said. “I’ll leave before anyone wakes up. Promise.”

You pretended to hesitate, your finger drawing an invisible shape on his chest. “Hmm. Okay. Deal.”

He kissed your forehead, and neither of you said anything else for a long while.

When you woke, the space beside you was empty. The sheets were still warm, but Frankie was gone. The indentation of his body remained on the mattress, a quiet reminder that he had, for a time, been curled up there, next to you.

You stretched, arms above your head, a yawn tugging out of you without effort. The clock on your phone glowed 9:03 a.m. You had slept deeply—without interruption, without dreams. The kind of sleep you hadn’t realized your body had been craving.

The air in the room was soft and still. You gathered your clothes and padded into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a gentle click. The shower hissed to life, warm water cascading down your shoulders, and you leaned into the sensation. As you ran the soap along your arms, your mind replayed the night before in quiet, vivid flashes: skin against skin, his hands at your waist, the breathless sound of your name in the dark.

Every place your fingers touched now felt like a memory. Like he’d left a map of himself on your body. You smiled, a private smile, one that rose uninvited and uncontainable. Something lodged itself in your chest, unfamiliar and too big to name. You didn't try.

Downstairs, the house buzzed with movement. The smell of coffee lingered in the air, mingling with toast and fabric softener and whatever someone was frying on the stove. You felt groomed, refreshed, and ravenously hungry. Everyone was already halfway through breakfast, laughing in fragments, stacking plates, mapping out plans for the rest of the day.

Will and Ben would be leaving in a couple of hours. Santi mentioned that he and Yov were planning to head out after lunch. You took a sip of coffee, the mug warm in your hands, and said, with what you hoped was casual ease, “I’ll go with Francisco.”

Your brother barely glanced up. “Sure,” he replied, like it was the most unremarkable thing in the world.

Across the table, Frankie looked at you. No words, just a glance that lasted a fraction longer than necessary. His hair was slightly damp, and there was a cup of coffee in front of him. And something inside you twisted, in a way that felt strangely comforting. You smiled.

You weren’t sure what it was, this new thing blooming in your chest, but it was there. Undeniable. Present. And it buzzed quietly at the thought of being alone in a car with him again. Just the two of you, nowhere to be but next to each other.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 15: I Don't Know What You Did To Me!

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (IT'S TIME BABY!), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 22K (Hear Me Out... It's Wonderful)

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Denial, A little bit of self-deprecating thoughts, Jealousy, Anger, Rage, A WHOLE LOT OF SHOUTING, Stan Edgar Being A Jerk, Sexist comments, Illusions to Sex, Heavy Petting? Making Out (It's ABOUT time), Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from 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. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

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A/N: Alright, hear me out... I know this is a long one, but I got so excited and the sun was in my eyes, and I forgot where I parked my car and... well... I got tired of the cliffhangers. 😂 But seriously y'all I am SO excited 😉🥰

The apartment was cold and dark when you walked through the front door, but the plants called out to you, filling the silence of the early morning, rustling and turning towards you as you enter. The curtains on the windows in the living room were closed, but the sunlight that dripped beneath the fabric was sufficient to see that Ben wasn't there.

It had been exactly seven days since you'd walked out of this apartment with Ben beside you, arguing with him about finally letting you go to work, seven days since you'd killed your brother, and seven days since Ben had tried to call you and you hadn't answered.

You wished you had. The guilt stirred in the pit of your stomach from not picking up the phone and to remedy it, you'd tried to call Ben, but he hadn't picked up.

And before you could talk yourself out of it, you'd sent an awkward text with the one word that you could think to say:

"Hi."

I'm such an idiot.

You really didn't know what else to say, not after everything that had happened. Not to mention you didn't want to tell him how much you'd wanted him there with you, how you'd imagined him riding on the bus alongside you while the wooded forests quickly shifted into farmland. You didn't know how Ben would react to that, especially since you weren't sure how that seemed like a friend-thing and you still weren't sure why you wanted him with you when your entire life fell apart.

But Ben hadn't answered the text, and he hadn't tried to call you again, which only made you feel worse for not answering his call a week ago.

You had been expecting him to at least try to call one more time or text you, but he hadn't, and there was a gaping hole inside that continued to open wider and wider with each passing day that you didn't speak to him.

He's probably out on a date or something. Has more important things to do than listen to my soap opera or help me pick up the pieces of my life.

It did still feel like it was in pieces. Everything you knew had changed within the course of a few hours, but you were glad to have your grandmother with you.

You had stayed with her instead of going back to NYC, allowing her to cook for you and soothe you the best she could with cups of tea and the love that she'd always had in abundance for you. It was still a little weird to think of her as a supe, but it was getting easier to swallow, and it felt like you were seeing her for the first time.

Since you'd talked about her time as a supe, she'd been opening up more about the past and you loved hearing all her stories. It also was making you see Ben in a new light.

Your grandmother knew more about his childhood than Ben had ever mentioned to you. He never seemed to be forthcoming with any information about himself, but the things that she'd told you about his father and the way he treated Ben made your blood boil.

It made you want to raise his father from the dead just to put him back in the grave all over again.

Of course, knowing all of this now made you feel worse for not picking up his call. A part of you thought that it was odd that someone who was so concerned for you at the hospital after everything happened with Elijah had gone radio silent.

And it made a part of you worry about him. Yes, as your grandmother had put it, Ben was more indestructible than you were, but you couldn't deny the fact that you were worried about him.

But as much as the last seven days had been soothing, there were still some odd moments.

For example, you'd woken up earlier one morning and followed your nose into the kitchen where your grandmother was making breakfast only to hear her muttering "what a fucking idiot" under her breath. Weirder still was another time you'd come back from the bathroom only to hear her cursing while she aggressively knit something that looked like a sweater and heard her whisper "I'm going to kill him. Could I have been any clearer?"

You hadn't asked her what she meant, but you'd assumed she meant her next door neighbor Mr. Filbert who was about the same age as your grandmother and was the bane of her existence. Each day she would have a new complaint that made her march over there and yell at him about something.

Personally, you thought he liked it when she yelled at him. Not to mention every Christmas he always brought over a large bottle of Brandy, your grandmother's favorite, and she made a chess pie specifically for him at the annual Christmas party she threw.

Annie and you had been shipping them harder than the post office the week before Christmas for years, but nothing ever came of it. In fact, the two of you had a yearly bet to see if this was the year that Mr. Filbert would finally do something about it or if it would be your grandmother who stopped being so stubborn and blind to what was in front of her face.

You couldn't imagine being that way if you saw how much someone liked you or went out of their way to care for you.

But being at home for a week made you feel better.

Everything that happened was settling over you, the newfound strength of your powers, your connection to nature, and there was the other thing you'd noticed, but were afraid to think about.

The thing you realized after you stepped out of the creaky shower and looked at yourself in the mirror without being covered in dirt.

At first you thought it was a trick of the light, but turning your face this way and that had confirmed it. The small wrinkles on the top of your forehead had faded, your laugh lines weren't as pronounced, and even the few gray hairs that you'd had since you pushed yourself too hard in high school and your first, and only, year of college, were gone. You were visibly younger and the only thing that you could think of that changed it was how you felt when you absorbed the energy of the plants. You remembered how it felt to absorb their life force, to have the energy flooding through your body taking away your pain, and healing what was broken. It felt like the best kind of high there was, your body melding with the tangled vines and unfurling leaves, feeling connected to everything in that shop while it made you whole again.

Standing there and looking at yourself, but not yourself in the mirror was weird and a little overwhelming.

There was also a part of you that didn't want to become an creepy old lady who sang to glowing flowers in the middle of the woods in the dead of night.

Annie had noticed it the moment that she'd seen you, and the two of you had discussed it over a Alien movie marathon, what it would be like if you could take the life of plants to make yourself younger and if it meant that you could live longer.

You figured that it was as good as true.

But to get back in tune with your powers you had sat outside in the back garden meditating. It seemed to work. Sitting out in the warmth of the day, with the breeze wicking the sweat at the back of your neck, the grass brushing against your worn jeans, and the call of nature all around you, it made you feel at peace for the first time in a long time.

It was nice to have a few moments to yourself, but that also meant that the thought of what came next seemed to hover over you. You knew that you had a long way to go before you fully got in control of your powers again, but you also knew that you couldn't hide in Illinois forever.

It felt like you were running from everything that happened, and you knew the longer you stayed away the harder it would be to go back to NYC, face the aftermath of Darren's death, and see Ben.

Although, he hadn't showed up, Annie had. She came on the second day and spent the next four days with you the same way the two of you spent your weekends growing up: with nostalgic movies, junk food, pizza, and copious amounts of wine, while bundled under plush blankets and pillows on the living room floor.

But the more days that passed when you were in Illinois, the more you were aware that something was missing, and now standing in your apartment you felt the same way.

Why?

Bean comes shooting out of your open bedroom and down the hallway in a frenzy, practically knocking into your ankles in his haste to brush his dark gray coat against your legs. He purrs loudly to get your attention, and you drop to your knees to pet him, staring into his luminous orange eyes.

"Hey Bean, did you miss me?" You smile at your cat, rubbing along the curve of his back the way you know he likes before you work your fingers under his chin.

The creature, now named "Rex" was perched on your shoulder like a bird of prey watching Bean with curiosity. The name was chosen due to how it looked like a T-rex with longer forearms whenever it stood up on it's back legs, but not from ferocity. He was a bit of a cuddler, more so than Bean. You also thought that Ben would appreciate the name given how much grief he'd given you when you told him your cat's name.

Bean glances up and hisses at Rex, who curls into your neck as if he's afraid.

"Oh, so you’re fine ripping someone apart, but you draw the line at meeting your brother?” You smile reaching up to scratch along his neck.

Annie had been terrified of him at first. She’d heard from Butcher exactly what he had done to Darren and was wary that Rex could grow into a maneater at any moment.

But Rex didn't seem to have man eating tendencies, at least now he didn't.

And when it came to Annie you figured that she was angrier that she hadn't gotten a shot at Darren.

She's waited a hell of a long time.

Bean narrows his eyes and raises his paw to swat at Rex, the claws scraping off his smooth leaf-like coat and leaving behind no damage. Rex cowers further into your neck.

"Stop acting like a jealous, only child." You chide the cat. "I love both of you the same way. And you've got to get along."

Bean makes a low noise in the back of his throat but leans into your hand asking for more rubs.

You indulge him for another minute, before looking up down the dark hallway. "Ben?"

The name echoes through the apartment, but Ben doesn't appear in the hallway.

I wonder where he is. Maybe he's at Butcher's.

You had spoken to Butcher once, who'd assured you that he, Frenchie, MM, and Hughie were cleaning everything up and that there wasn't anything for you to worry about.

You trusted Butcher to handle it. The last thing you wanted was to be unable to walk down the street because everyone was running for their lives and screaming while hoping you didn't unleash Rex on Manhattan.

One of the vines on the opposing wall flicks the light switch on, bathing your living room in artificial light. You pause, your hand frozen on Bean's back as you look over the living room and kitchen.

The apartment is spotless. There are no empty bottles of scotch, no half smoked blunts in the ashtray on the coffee table, no empty pizza boxes stacked next to your couch, and no dirty clothes and socks strewn around the room. In fact, there aren't any clothes at all or shoes.

Everything that belongs to Ben that was once scattered over your small living room is gone, leaving the room almost uncomfortably bare.

Is he doing laundry?

You strain your ears to hear the tell-tale sound of the sink or the shower in the bathroom, but don't hear anything.

Maybe he cleaned up because I was gone?

It seems a little out in left field, but you reason to yourself that Ben had tried to clean up while you were gone, just like he did when you got back from the hospital two weeks ago.

But as you walk down the hallway towards your bedroom you notice that the hall closet when Ben keeps his other things is empty. Every article of clothing, every shoe, every sock, and the small box of personal items that Ben had never let you see into was completely gone.

Something inside your chest begins to crack, you're not sure what, but all you know is that it doesn't feel good. There's an odd foreboding feeling that sends alarm bells off in your head.

Did he leave?

The thought is like a punch in the gut and your chest tightens, making it difficult to breathe.

Why would he leave without telling me?

You pull your phone out of your back pocket and scroll through to find Ben's number. This time you don't hesitate to hit the call button.

Each time it rings you can feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into something that you can't describe. You didn't understand why he left, and why he wasn't here when you got back.

Was it because I didn't pick up the phone when he called? Was it because he finally figured that I wasn't going to sleep with him and he decided to leave?

He doesn't answer, but this time you leave him a voicemail.

"Hey Ben, it's me. I just got back to the apartment and all your stuff is gone, which means either we got robbed or you got kidnapped by your evil brother." You laugh awkwardly. "But I'm back in town so you should call me and let me know if your stuff should be here or whatever-um-" You clear your throat trying to keep your voice from shaking a little. "Just call me back okay?"

When the final beep sounds whatever it was you were feeling was lodged deep into the back of your throat and this time, as you look out over the pristine living room and kitchen you allow yourself to notice just how empty it looks without Ben in it.

"Babe!" Annie calls waving her hand from where she sits at one of the artisanal wrought iron tables at Calamity Coffee Co to catch your attention.

The inside of the shop was identical to the last time the two of you were here. There's still a collection of best-selling author's to be lining the wooden bar along the front windows, still a much too happy barista who grins when you walk through the door, and still a group of people sitting on the plush velvet couch talking about absolutely nothing at all while sipping colorful coffee mugs

It was surreal, as if the past two weeks hadn't happened and you were the same person that you were then.

Annie had left about two days before you came back to the city after she got a phone call from someone at Vought demanding that she come back for some "big emergency."

You still had no idea what the "big emergency" was, but you figured that you were about to find out. Annie hadn't been able to send you more than a handful of errant texts in which you planned this coffee shop meet.

Truthfully you weren't sure that you could share any of her enthusiasm or her excitement over what the "big emergency" was. You were still swimming in whatever the feeling was at Ben's sudden disappearance and his radio silence.

You'd thought that the feeling would have passed and tried to think about all the positives about him not living in your apartment would be, but the list was shorter than you expected, and the negatives were mounting higher with every passing minute since you'd called him and left the awkward voicemail. It was odd, especially after how hard you'd fought for him to not live with you, and how hard you'd tried to convince him that he didn’t want to live with you, but the feeling was still there.

Maybe he didn't move out and maybe he's been kidnapped and taken back to Russia!

That thought was distressing, but you thought that if Ben had been kidnapped your apartment would have looked like a train ran through it. Not to mention there wouldn't have been fresh water or fresh food laid out for Bean, almost as if Ben had been back to feed him.

But if he had voluntarily left, you still didn't understand why he had. You racked your brain trying to come up with something, some reason why Ben wouldn't be there, some little detail that you missed in the week that led up to the big explosion that was Darren's death and the destruction of "Please Don't Die," but you couldn't remember anything.

If anything, Ben and you were getting along better than you had in the days that lead up to it. He had been more attentive, had taken care of you in his own way, had sat with you on the couch and watched his ridiculously cheesy old films and pouted whenever you laughed at the lines he had delivered in all seriousness.

And the only reason you could come up with was that Ben genuinely didn't care about living with you or being around you as much as you thought he did and that he was tired of pretending to be a nicer person.

So basically, you were back to square one and you were trying to shake off the feelings that had started to bloom whenever you spent time with him and Ben acted like someone who you could love, someone that you could see yourself with. The same feelings that you had fought to push down and ignore because you didn't want to feel that way about someone like him.

The rays of the mid-day sun stream through the large windows catching the glints of gold in Annie's hair. The steam from her latte swirls and tangles out from her cup, crawling across the table to where the iced latte she ordered for you sits. The condensation has already started to drip down the plastic outside to the white napkin beneath, smudging the purple script of the coffee shop's name printed on the paper.

"Hey." You smile and embrace your friend.

It was good to see her again, but she looked more tired than usual. Her makeup was smudged beneath her eyes and her hair wasn't tied up in her usual high ponytail, but instead was thrown over her shoulders and finger combed.

"I missed you." She sighs into your shoulder. "Work is killing me. Ashley is going to be my thirteenth reason I swear." Annie rolls her eyes.

The wilted wildflowers in the center of the table perk up in your presence without you focusing on them.

"I missed you too." You reach into the front pocket of your overalls and extract Rex, who is now about the size of a coke can, and who crawls across the table to say hi to Annie.

She gently scratches under his little chin the way she knows he likes. "You're not going to eat me are you?"

"He already ate-"

Annie's eyes widen. "Not Bean!"

"Are you crazy? Do you think that I'd let him eat Bean? No. He had some cat food. Surprisingly he likes it so I guess that's what I'm gonna feed him and-"

"What is that thing?" A barista asks as he passes Annie and your table on the way back to the counter, toting a large tray of dirty mugs.

"Oh it's a-" You clear your throat thinking of something to call Rex. "It's an Aconitum Napellus." You reply saying the only name that could come to mind and hoping that the barista didn't know the scientific name for wolfsbane.

"Wow I've heard about those I think!" The barista replies leaning towards where Rex is stretching out in the sunlight on the tabletop. "Aren't they super rare?"

"Yep." Annie nods her head, the picture of seriousness. "My friend saved him from a guy who was practically part beast." She shoots you a wink, understanding exactly what Aconitum Napellus is.

"Can I pet him?" The barista's hand is already halfway to Rex, but you reach Rex first and pull him to you.

Honestly, you didn’t think that Rex would bite his finger off, but you didn't want to take that chance.

"Um. No. He's kind of finicky about other people." You laugh awkwardly.

"Bummer." The barista shrugs and walks back to the counter.

"You really think that it's a good idea bringing Godzilla out like that?" Annie takes a sip from the steaming cup in front of her.

"I don't think he's vicious unless I tell him to be." You look down at where Rex is curling into your arms. He's grown maybe another inch or two, but not enough to attract unwanted attention.

"And are you going to tell him to be?"

"Now?"

"I need to know, just in case I have to start running for my life."

"I'll keep you posted, just try not to piss me off today." You snort reaching for the latte on top of the table. "So, what was the 'big emergency.'"

"Oh my fuck! You're not going to believe this!" Annie leans across the table. "But it's kinda a big secret so you can't tell anyone, at least until not after tonight."

"Why tonight?"

"Because tonight is the big official announcement/celebration." She braces her elbow on the table and extends her pinky. "Special pinky swear me."

"Special pinky swear? What are we ten?" You roll your eyes at her.

The special pinky swear was the secret handshake that Annie and you had come up with when you were eight after Annie got kissed by Matthew Colson in second grade behind the giant oak tree in the schoolyard. The "special pinky swear" was only used in moments of complete seriousness. The same handshake had seen juicy secrets the two of you had shared over the years with no one else. When Annie lost her virginity to Drummer Boy, when the two of you got high in Esther Masterson's family cornfield, when you stole a bright red thong on a dare from Victoria's Secret, and when Newton and you had sex for the first time in the backseat of his dad's pickup truck senior year at Look Out Point. All of these moments had involved the "special pinky swear," so for her to bring it up, meant that this was big.

You hesitate. You don’t know why, but there's an odd feeling tugging in the back of your mind, almost as if you know what she's going to say before she says it.

"Babe." Annie wiggles her pinky over the table and you take it.

"Okay, what is it?"

She's still leaning on the table towards you, her blonde hair falling forward over her shoulders, and her eyes bright with her secret. "Ben is joining The Seven."

You sit there for a moment, her words not quite comprehending in your mind. And when it does, you feel the same tightness in your chest when you realized that all of Ben's stuff wasn't in your apartment anymore. You forget how to breathe, how to act normal, because you didn’t understand why Ben would do that, not after everything that happened with Payback.

"What?" You choke out.

"Honestly, I'm kind of surprised that he didn't tell you since the two of you are so close." She tilts her head to the side as if examining you for a minute.

"But why? Everything with Payback was so fucked up and that means he'd have to be around Stan again and-" You couldn’t finish the sentence, it felt like you were running out of air, a vice clamping down on your throat, because if Ben was going back to The Seven it meant that you'd probably never see him again.

Before the possibility of him being kidnapped or all his stuff being stolen meant that you'd run into him at least at some point, but this no way. You never saw anyone on The Seven save for Annie and that was because she still ran ops with Butcher and she was your best friend, but Ben and you were… nothing.

And standing in your apartment with all his things gone made that almost chillingly true. You and Ben were nothing more than roommates, and now he’d made that very clear by not telling you that he was moving out and taking another job. Nothing about that was the friendship that you thought the two of you were achieving.

Maybe it's a good thing, because I was beginning to feel things for him that I didn't want to and now he's gone I don't have to worry about it.

The thought didn't make you feel any better. Something inside felt like it was shriveling up and dying, something that you didn't know had grown and bloomed within you the moment Ben moved in.

"I know!" Annie exclaims. "But Hughie told me that while we were gone, Ben stormed into the apartment and confronted Butcher, said that he 'didn't feel appreciated' and that he was 'sick of all the bullshit' and that he was 'fucking done.' Hughie said that Butcher was pissed, but Ben must've gone to talk to Stan because they're officially announcing Ben or rather Soldier Boy's glorious return to Vought as the leader of The Seven."

"Wow the leader that's-" You swallow, voice hollow. "That's good for him."

"More than good. They're throwing him one of those ridiculous over the top parties tonight to celebrate and re-introduce him to the press." Annie takes another sip of her coffee, practically shaking with the excitement over the news. "And holy fucking shit!"

"What?" You breathe. Suddenly the room is spinning and you're not sure that you're getting enough air to your brain. You feel like you've been punched in the gut and at the same time feel like everything inside of you is spilling out.

You couldn't understand any of it, couldn't understand why it felt like Ben had broken up with you or why it felt like your heart was breaking, not over Ben of all people.

Why? I don't love him or like him. He's my friend or… I thought we were becoming friends.

"Stan is literally just falling at his feet. He's been busing in these slutty looking women that all go up to Ben's apartment, and you have no idea what I can sometimes hear through the walls. Those women are so loud." Annie makes a disgusted face, and you could only imagine what she was hearing.

It was the reason why you hadn't let Ben bring women back to the apartment, because your walls were thin and you didn't want to be subject to hearing his live action porn shoots. You knew the exact kind of person that Ben was when he moved in with you, but the week you'd spent with him before you killed Darren was different. He was kinder, softer, more patient with you, and willing to help you. Not to mention overprotective because he didn't want you to leave the apartment or even lift a finger with your broken arm.

You think about how Ben hadn't been on a date that entire week, that he stayed at the apartment with you and how he didn't act like he saw the woman in the grocery store hitting on him. Your jaw tightens as you fight the urge to cry, not quite comprehending why you were feeling this way.

What did I expect? He's the same way he's always been. And maybe he really was pretending to be different around me so that I'd sleep with him. Ben is Ben he's…

You think about what your grandmother said to you, about Ben acting differently than the one she knew. How Ben cared for you at the apartment and in the hospital was so different than the person she'd been friends with in the 80's. But now you weren't sure.

I don't need him anyway. He was just my roommate and now I have the couch all to myself.

You think, but it doesn’t bring any comfort

Annie's eyes focus back on you. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

"No actually I'm not feeling that great all of a sudden." It wasn't a lie, you felt like you were going to throw up with all the memories you had with Ben swirling around your head. You didn't understand why this was happening.

In the past Annie and you would have giggled and laughed about something like this, but you didn’t feel like laughing at all.

"Oh no. Was it the latte? I'll come with you-" She starts to get up, but you hold up one hand while using the other to put Rex into your front pocket again.

"No, it's okay. I've just got a headache, and I don't think I'm ready to be around so many people, after Darren, you know?" It was a lame excuse, but you knew that it was the only thing to say that would make Annie leave you alone. "I think I took it too fast or something."

"Oh. Okay." She looks at you sympathetically. "Well text me when you get home? I want to make sure that you're okay."

"I will. I love you Ann."

"Love you too babe."

You rush from the coffee shop, trying to put as much distance between everything Annie said and you, but it's still all there in your head making it spin.

Why did he just leave without saying anything? Why didn't he tell me that he was being offered a place on The Seven?

You think to yourself, gaze on the sidewalk as you go, following the cracks and the blackened lumps of gum that have been smooshed against the concrete.

And why the fuck do I care so much? It's his life, he can do whatever the fuck he wants to!

The flowers in the black circular bins outside the florist shop wither and die as you pass, spilling multicolored petals at your feet that you trample underfoot.

He never said that he wanted to be friends. It was me that said it at that ridiculous fundraiser. Me that told him countless times that I didn't want to sleep with him.

The trees that are planted sporadically along the sidewalk shed their leaves when you walk underneath.

And I don't want to sleep with him. I want a relationship, I want love, I don't want just a one-night stand with someone like Ben. I deserve more I-

The thoughts were the same ones that you told yourself whenever you felt yourself considering falling into bed with Ben. The ones that usually brought the memory of your parents dancing to "Gonna Sing You My Love Song" by candlelight in the kitchen when they looked at each other like there was no one else in the world. You wanted that kind of love so badly that you could feel it in your bones.

But this time when you think those thoughts, it's not your parents that appear, it's Ben and you sitting on the couch in your living room with him reading the newspaper and you reading a book.

Stop it. Ben doesn't want that. He's made it perfectly clear that he doesn't want a relationship. And I guess he doesn't want a friendship because he just up and left without telling me!

"Excuse me!" You hear a voice say followed by your name, but you ignore it, and continue down the sidewalk.

The tears were close to falling and you didn't fully understand what it was that you were feeling or why you were so upset about Ben leaving when it meant that you could get your apartment completely to yourself again.

"Excuse me!" The voice says again and this time someone grabs on to your left shoulder yanking you backward.

You'd only seen Ashley once.

The first time Annie invited you to Vought Tower to look at her ridiculous apartment, Ashley had made you sign an NDA before you did. What exactly she thought you’d see you weren’t sure. It wasn’t like you were as oblivious as everyone else to the way the heroes of The Seven acted when the cameras weren’t flashing.

But Ashley looks the same as she did the last time you saw her, thinning red hair, sharp black suit that's buttoned over her chest giving the illusion that she doesn't have anything on underneath, tacky necklaces, crimson lipstick, and just like last time, she's not looking at you. She's typing something furiously on her phone as if she couldn't be bothered to acknowledge your existence with her eyes.

You hated when people did that.

“Hi." Ashley says with false sweetness, drawing it out too long to be natural. "Can you get in the car please?” She asks, still not looking up from the phone in front of her and gesturing with her head towards a gigantic black SUV that idles on the curb. It's easily bigger than your grandmother's truck and has windows so dark you can't see into the backseat.

Probably something Vought gets custom done to hide what goes on with their fucking heroes.

“Why?” You ask.

Did she hear Annie tell me about Ben? Wow, she works fast, I’ll give her that.

Your gaze shifts to where your building is just a few steps down the sidewalk. You were thinking about ignoring her, and continuing to walk down the street, but a part of you was intrigued.

“I don’t have time for this, get in the car.” This time Ashley looks up from the phone with a forced smile.

It's the forced smile that makes you decide to keep walking. You were tired of people trying to manipulate you with false sweetness to get what they wanted.

“I heard you the first time. No.” You reply before turning to walk down the sidewalk.

She moves so fast that you'd think she was A-train, putting herself directly in your way.

Ashley lowers her voice to a whisper. You didn't know why she was doing that. "Look, if you don't get in the car it's my ass. And I'm not going to be fired because one of Soldier Boy's sluts is acting like a little bitch and refuses to get in the car."

One of Soldier Boy's sults? Soldier Boy’s SLUT?!

"I don't know where you're getting your information, but I am not one of his sluts." You spit.

"Well, the only people I've been picking up for him all damn week have been." Her mouth twitches up into a smirk. "So, the options are you either get in the fucking car or Javier is going to put you in the car." She gestures to the behemoth of a man sitting in the driver's seat of the SUV, who smirks at you.

"Oh, is he?"

"Yes."

All the emotions that you'd been feeling about Ben begin to reach a peak in your chest and something finally snaps. You didn't want to deal with any of this, all you wanted was to go home to your bed, and yet here Ashley was treating you like you were some weak-willed little girl who would do everything you were told. It's the same thing that Darren used to do with you, and like hell you were going to let anyone do that to you again.

"I’d love to see him try." Your eyes shift to bright green and the entire world begins to tremble. You could feel the trees that lined the streets turning to watch, the roots that pushed and tangled through new earth stirred beneath the streets and sidewalks, the flowers in the florist shop two doors down that had wilted and lost petals twist together and burst with new life before spilling out onto the sidewalks, and Rex who was sleeping soundlessly in the front pocket of your favorite overalls drops to the ground at your feet, snarling as he grows to the size of a microwave.

"Holy fuck!" Ashley shrieks and takes a step back from Rex who snaps his jaws at her feet. His pointed stick-like teeth now the length of a pencil, clicking together.

"You should be more careful who you threaten." You say, your voice lowering. The energy of nature around you was thrumming through your veins, electrified by your anger. "It might be the last thing you do."

Just as Rex takes another step towards Ashley, who is quickly running out of sidewalk, the backseat window rolls down, and you see Ben sitting there with an annoyed expression.

"Just get in the fucking car Petals." He says with a sigh.

Has he really been back there the whole time?

"Are you shitting me Ben? You’ve been in the backseat this whole time? Why didn’t you get out to ask me to get into the car yourself?" You shout, eyes still a bright green.

I guess that's why she was whispering, didn’t want Ben to hear her call me one of his "sluts."

The thought made a surprising wave of anger and frustration crash over you when you remembered what Annie had said about Vought busing in women for Ben. You didn’t understand why you were upset; you knew the kind of person he was, knew that was what he went on dates to do, but for some reason the thought of him having a non-stop orgy at Vought tower after he had taken care of you and acted like a completely different person made you livid. It made you think again that he had just been putting on a big show to trick you into sleeping with him.

"That’s what that bitch is for!" He gestures to Ashley who is practically cowering against the car while Rex snarls between the two of you, now the size of a post office box.

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "I can’t do this with you. I’m going inside."

“Wait.”

“I don’t want to wait Ben.” You reach down and scoop up Rex who shrinks in your arms back to the size of the coke can before he hisses at Ashley one last time. She looked like she was going to faint, but you didn't feel guilty.

"Are you really going to make me get out of the fucking car? Ben shouts above the sound of traffic.

Honestly, you really didn't feel like talking to him, not when you weren't sure why you were upset with him.

All he did was move on with his life. Why do I care so much about that? He was going to move out eventually and I didn't want him to live with me anyway. He was crashing on my couch; it wasn't a permanent situation and-

The thought of your couch makes an odd feeling rise in your chest for a second as the memory of him and you picking it out at IKEA come floating back. Despite how much Ben annoyed you, you’d had fun with him at IKEA trying out the different couches and getting coffee. It always surprised you how you could enjoy spending time with him, even when he annoyed you without end. But you had enjoyed yourself. Just as you'd enjoyed yourself when the two of you watched tv on the couch and when he walked with you to the shop and picked you up at the end of the day.

“You don’t have to get out of the car. I’m going inside.” You turn and walk away from where the SUV is idling on the curb, weaving through the foot traffic.

I don't want to talk to him. I just want to go into my apartment and forget everything Annie told me and forget that Ben doesn't live with me anymore.

“For fucks sake.” You hear Ben grumble under his breath when you turn away, but you don't stop walking. "Petals!"

You can see the glass double doors and brick steps that lead up into your apartment building up ahead, but even with how fast you're walking Ben catches you easily.

"Wait." Ben moves to block your path just as Ashley had.

He looks different than the last time you saw him standing in the street asking you to let him make sure you were okay and asking you to let him take you home. And if you were acknowledging it, Ben looked better than you remembered.

He's still wearing the same jeans and t-shirt combo, except now you can see that they're made of nicer material, designer, and he's wearing a large golden Rolex on his left hand that you're sure someone at Vought bought for him. Ben's dark hair isn't falling into his face, it's a little shorter, more controlled. You liked it better the other way, but you weren't going to admit that to yourself.

Even his beard is trimmed, and you wonder if Ashley got him a stylist and a hair/makeup team to spruce him up before his big debut.

Oh yeah. The debut he's making after he moved out of our apartment and didn't tell me, and after he's been fucking whatever comes across his path all week.

The thought makes your jaw clench together.

That's the way Ben is! He's been going through women since he got back from Russia. That's not new!

You thought it to make yourself feel better, but you can still feel the tightening in your chest that you'd been feeling since Annie told you the "big news" and you realized that Ben moved out.

Then why does it kind of hurt?

"What?" You sigh.

"I want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Can you get in the fucking car first?"

"No. I don't want to get in the fucking car, nor do I know why I need to get in the car!"

"Because I want to talk to you!"

"And we can't do that here?"

"No!"

You cross your arms over your chest and refuse to budge. You knew that it would only annoy Ben that you were being stubborn, his stubbornness also drove you to the point of insanity as did his taunts, so the two of you were at a stalemate and you refused to give in.

"Fine." He seethes. "I'm joining The Seven."

“I heard. Congratulations. You’re getting everything you want." You clip.

“Just about.” He mumbles under his breath so low that you don’t think you heard him right.

"I don't see why that involves me."

"If you'd shut up and fucking listen to me for a minute I'll tell you!" He snaps.

"Don't tell me to shut up Ben! Who fucking disappears without so much as a note? Who up and leaves without telling their frie-," You clear your throat to change the word. "Their roommate that they're moving out!?"

"You didn’t want me to live with you!”

"Maybe at the beginning but-" Your cheeks redden for a second and something flashes through his eyes that you've never seen. "I mean, it's not that bad. And after everything I thought that you'd still be here when I got back."

"Well if I recall, you left without telling me where the fuck you were going and didn't pick up my damn phone call!"

"I called you back! And I texted you! It's not like I was completely radio silent!" You stamp your foot in frustration. "And why are you going back to Vought? They got your team to stab you in the back and took your genetic material to make a psychotic freak!"

"Because Stan Edgar called me and he said he wanted me to be the new leader of The Seven!"

"Oh please, you believe that guy? He only looks out for himself. If you trust him again, he's gonna give you another one-way ticket back to Russia."

"He's not going to fucking-"

"Yes he is! And if you thought things through instead of jumping in feet first, maybe you wouldn’t land into a pile of shit! Now if you'll excuse me. I have to do some laundry, but whoopdie fucking do! It seems like all your dreams are coming true." You try to step around him, but Ben shifts his body to block you.

"Just fucking listen to me." He snaps, green eyes flashing in the sunlight.

"What? What do you have to tell me that's so important you had that red-headed bitch try to shove me in an SUV for?"

"They're throwing me a damn party tonight and I want you to come with me." Ben shouts back at you, eyes blazing in anger.

Your mouth drops open. It was the last thing that you were expecting him to say. If anything, you thought that he was going to try to get you to come with him to Vought to make a pass at you, not invite you to probably one of the most exclusive events of the entire year.

"What?"

Ben still looks angry but uncrosses his arms from his chest. "I want you to come with me to the party."

You clear your throat to dissipate the shock, your anger coming back. "Why me? Why not any of those other women that Stan's been bringing to the tower for you?" You snap. “They certainly seem to be more your type. Probably look a lot more impressive than I do on your arm."

You hadn't seen them, but you could only imagine what they all looked like. Ben's matches on tinder he often bragged about and had shown you photos as if he needed to prove how attractive they were to someone else. Of course, then you'd told him to just stuff it in a tube sock like everyone else rather than risk the venereal disease.

"What did I tell you about saying shit like that about yourself in front of me?" He looks angry again.

You think back to the day the two of you shopped for a couch at IKEA and Ben had yelled at you for making a self-deprecating joke about being "useless."

An odd look crosses Ben's face for a split second when he realizes what he said, before he smirks to hide it. "Are you jealous Petals?"

"No."

"Because you're acting like you are." He smirks wider. "Kinda sounds like you've been having Annie spy on me for you."

"I didn’t have her spy on you! She can hear everything that you're doing, and she told me because we got coffee today and she wanted to tell me your oh so wonderful news. That you’re the leader of the Seven and that means you have an endless parade of women willing to fuck you.”

"All women are willing to fuck me Petals."

"Not me."

Something flashes through his eyes that you can't place.

You chew on the inside of your cheek for a minute, before you sigh. "Ben, I don't think that I should-"

"I want you to come with me because none of them are supes and I want you to understand what being a supe is supposed to look like." He interrupts, but it doesn't sound convincing enough.

"I don't think any of that is real or how it's supposed to be!"

"How would you know anything about it? This is the Seven. The most powerful supe team in the world-"

"Just because it's the most popular doesn't mean that it's the most powerful. And I'm not sure I want to be a part of this. My grandmother told me what it was like for her and-"

"But you've never experienced it!"

"Well, no."

"Exactly. So just come with me tonight."

"I don't know Ben. I'm not sure that I'm up for being around that many people after everything, you know? I-" You swallow. All the feelings of frustration, confusion, and anger were slowly dissipating, and it was leaving behind something you didn't want to think about. "I stayed in Illinois because I needed a few days to get away from all of this and I don’t think that I can rush into it all over again the day I get back." You could feel the memories of the day you killed Darren beginning to come surging back, followed by the realization of how out of control your powers could get.

Not to mention that standing here and looking at Ben was making the tightness in your chest worse.

Then Ben does something he never has, he reaches out and takes your hand. “Come on Petals, just one night.”

He was saying Petals in the soft way he had two weeks ago when he had been taking care of you after the hospital, and it made warmth pool in the pit of your stomach.

"But-"

"And I won't leave you alone at the party with any of those boring fucks. Or with that octopus fucker.” He interrupts, trying to convince you.

"One night?"

"Yes."

Your eyes drop to where he's holding your hand gently between the two of you. It was odd for him, especially because he'd never done that before, even when you had nightmares, Ben never held your hand like this. It was always an awkward cradle, but for him to fully entwine his fingertips with yours it between the two of you was shocking. You raise your gaze to his unblinking green eyes. "Do you promise?" You whisper.

"Yes. I promise, one night and if you hate it, I'll take you back to your shitty apartment building." Ben smiles as if it's a joke, but it stings a little bit.

It was the first time that Ben had ever referred to the apartment as just "yours." You'd gotten so accustomed to him calling it "our apartment" and to hear it that way made your chest tighten more. Maybe it was because it was settling in that Ben wasn't coming back, that he wasn't going to move back in or be a part of your life anymore.

"Okay. One night." You nod and let Ben lead you back to the car holding on to your hand.

Why is he doing this if he's been fucking his way through New York's female population this week? Why does he care so much that I be the one to go with him to this ridiculous party? Any one of those women would be ecstatic to go. And why is he holding my hand?

"Talk to her like that again and I’ll make sure that the next job you have is cleaning Stan Edgar’s fucking balls.” He growls to Ashley as he opens the door of the SUV for you.

And as you slide into the plush leather seats in the backseat, you begin to wonder exactly why Ben was so adamant about you "experiencing" what it was like to be a supe.

"So, what do you think?" Ben's voice echoes through the large living room/sitting room, vibrating against the floor to ceiling glass walls that stand at the back of the room and give a spectacular view of New York City that lays below Vought Tower.

From up here the rest of the world looks so small and out of focus, and you wonder if that's why so many supes lose their morals, because they're worshiped and put in places like this to look down on the people below.

Treat them like gods and that's what they'll think they are.

Annie's apartment at the tower was impressive, but Ben's is practically another planet. The entire place is filled with mid-century modern furniture, supple leather couches so soft it feels like you're sliding through butter, beautifully crafted wooden credenzas, and modern art pieces that you'd only ever seen prints of online.

The high lofted ceilings are so tall that you're sure the first three floors of your apartment building could fit inside, and there's an odd echo that follows everything Ben and you say. There is a tv so large it might as well be a billboard that sits on top of a wooden credenza and holds a speaker system that must be more expensive that a yearly car payment. It looks so intricate that you're afraid to touch it, let alone breathe next to it. The entire room screams wealth and not one piece of it is homey. It feels like a museum, as if someone tried to create something that felt like a home, but it turned into a time capsule of a time everyone else forgot.

You wondered if Ben ever felt that way and that way why he was really joining The Seven. If it wasn't just because Stan Edgar called, but because Ben felt like the world had forgotten who he was and he needed to prove it to everyone.

If that were true, you didn’t like that he thought that way. Yes, Ben annoyed you, but you liked who he was when he was with you. He never seemed like an old fossil that someone decided to shove into a box at the back of the Smithsonian, you liked the way he was, didn't think that he needed to prove himself to anyone.

Ben is standing behind you, leaning against one of the dark wood walls with a smile. You didn't know why he cared so much about your opinion of where he lived, not if you were just coming here for the party and then going back home to your apartment.

Your mind stutters on the word "home," because it hadn't felt like home when you got there, and Ben wasn't there. You didn’t want to admit that to yourself, but you knew it was true.

"It’s big." You say half-heartedly.

The apartment only made you think that Ben wasn't going to be living with you, a concept that you were confused as to why you were still saddened by, especially now that he'd had ample time to say goodbye. Before you’d been angry that he’d left without a note, but now you felt like you should be okay with what was happening.

You weren’t.

"Mhmm. Like it should be. Oh, you should have seen the good old days Petals. All the apartments, the hotel rooms, the houses they rented for us were like this. Not to mention everyone doing whatever the fuck you asked without hesitation, bringing me exactly what I wanted without argument. Fuck it takes me back." Ben sighs at the memory. "That’s how it’s supposed to be when you’re a supe. Not all of this squatting in small apartments and taking 500 jobs because you can't make enough money."

"I kind of like my 500 jobs." You say. "I've learned how to do a lot of things, and most of them are kind of fun-"

"Come on Petals." Ben rolls off the wall to get closer to you. "You're a bad liar and you know it."

"Fine. I don't like all of them, but I really like working at the senior center and at the plant shop-“

As soon as the words come out of your mouth, you're reminded of exactly why you're not working in the shop anymore and everything that happened with Darren. You hadn't called Jake yet or texted him. Again, you didn’t know what to say.

Honestly, you didn't even know if he was alive and the thought that you'd killed your friend hurt you.

"He's okay." Ben murmurs quietly anticipating what you’re thinking. "Saw someone helping him from the rubble before I got out of there."

"Good. I was worried that I-." You let out a breath and shake your head feeling relief stir in the pit of your stomach. “I didn’t mean to lost control like that and I-“

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. That asshole deserved it.” You can hear the anger begin to drip into Ben’s voice.

“I know.” You look around the room again at the fancy furniture and high ceilings to distract yourself. "This apartment is definitely big enough to manspread in. But it seems kind of empty though for one person."

"What?"

"I just mean- all this space.” You gesture to the vaulted ceilings. “What person needs this much space? At least in my one bedroom it’s a bit cozier.”

“You don’t like it?” For a second you think that he looks disappointed, but you think you imagined it.

“Nope. Not really my style.” You walk through the large living room exploring the apartment with Ben following behind you.

And you miss the way his shoulders slump just a little and the frown that pulls at the end of his mouth.

The bedroom is bigger than your whole apartment, with a giant four poster bed made of dark wood swaddled in gold and black bedding. The floors are made of black marble and there’s a giant fireplace that is so wide that a city bus could drive through no problem. The view out the floor to ceiling windows is even more breathtaking than the one in the living room.

“What no bearskin rug?” You snort at your joke, but for some reason it doesn’t make you smile.

All you're aware of is how weird this is, that Ben wanted you to come here and show you the way you "should" be living as a supe, and weirder still it was almost as if he wanted you to like his apartment.

Since when does Ben care what I think?

“Do you want a bearskin rug?” Ben asks, not sensing your sarcasm. "Because I can tell that bitch to bring one in here."

“No I was just-“ You sigh, but stop talking when you notice something green on the bedside table.

There’s a small pothos plant sitting there, it’s vines dangling over the sides of the table towards the floor a shock of green in an otherwise black and gold room. Ben didn’t like plants as much as you did. You knew that.

“Why do you have a plant?”

“It’s-“ He pauses as if embarrassed. “For you.”

“But you didn’t know I was coming?” You look over your shoulder. “And I told you that I was only staying one night.”

“I know.” Ben shrugs. “I got it earlier just in case.”

“In case?”

“You decided that you wanted to be a part of The Seven, or I don’t fucking know, just live here at Vought Tower.” He sounds angry, but you don't let it get to you.

“Well if I wanted to be a part of The Seven wouldn’t I get my own apartment? And if I stayed here, where would I sleep Ben? There’s only one bed.”

He bought me a plant? Did he think that I was going to sleep in here with him? Did he think that I was going to sleep with him?

“I mean we’ve shared before and you didn’t seem opposed to it.” He smirks, but when he notices that you don’t smile, he frowns. “I can sleep on the couch. It’s almost as comfy as the one we picked out.”

“Oh.”

“And actually if you want I can have them bring that one here too-“

The thought of the couch the two of you had fitting in with any of these outrageous displays of wealth was laughable, but again it confused you, because Ben was acting like he wanted you to move out of your apartment and into this one with him. Which, given how you heard he spent his week seemed ridiculous.

This is so weird. I have no idea what’s going on.

"So, um-" Ben clears his throat awkwardly. "How are you?"

"What?" You turn around to look away from the bedroom that looks a little bit like it belongs in a supervillain's penthouse apartment.

"Well, I mean-" He clears his throat again. Ben looks like it's difficult for him to say what he's about to, as if it's difficult for him to carry on a normal conversation. "Diana said that you were having a hard time."

"You talked to my grandmother?"

"Once. Before Stan called."

"Oh." You bite your lip. "I mean finding out that my brother killed my parents and tried to kill me wasn't exactly a walk in the park. But-" You shrug. "I'm dealing with it."

Ben nods as if he's unsure what to say. You noticed that when conversations got a little too personal Ben looked out of his element and you supposed that was what was happening right now. Sometimes it made you feel bad for him, as if he didn’t know how to act in a normal situation.

"Do I look different to you?" You blurt to clear out some of the awkward tension.

"What?"

"I mean, do I look younger? I thought that I was imagining things, but Annie pointed it out and I-"

"A little." He swallows.

"Great." You sigh.

"You don't want to look young?" Ben chuckles to himself. "Petals I swear every time you open that perfect mouth of yours you say the most outrageous shit I've ever heard."

"No, I mean I-" You wave your hand as if looking for the right words. "I guess I can make myself younger, but I don't think that I want to."

"Why not?"

"I mean if you live forever or longer than the average person you see everyone you love die. That doesn't exactly seem healthy."

"Not if the people you love don't die either." Ben says it quietly, almost to himself.

You snort. “My grandmother doesn’t live extra years, neither does Annie.” You hesitate to think of something that you never asked Ben. “Did you ever think about that?”

“Think about what?"

“When you and Countess were together. Didn’t you ever think about what would happen when she aged and you were well, you?”

Ben hesitates as if considering something. “Not really.”

“Why not?"

"You're full of questions today, Petals."

"And you're full of cryptic answers." You reply. "Come on Ben, you didn't think about that? I think that if I was with someone who didn't age that I would-"

"Someone like Jake you mean." Ben is frowning again, just as he always does whenever you bring him up.

"Why are you always so focused on him?"

"I'm not. Why are you so focused on Countess?"

"Stop answering my questions with a question!"

"I'm not!"

"You don't really have to worry about Jake. I think I blew my chances with him the minute that I destroyed his plant shop." You frown, reaching to touch the pothos plant that sits on the bedside table to get it to perk up.

Ben stands there for a minute watching you. "He's a fucking idiot if he lets that stand in the way of being with you."

Shock hits you like a bolt of lightning, and you turn to look at Ben, who suddenly looks very uncomfortable, as if he didn't mean to say that.

"Thanks."

He shrugs.

"And I think Countess was a fucking idiot and a Bitch for stabbing you in the back and making you love her."

"Thanks."

You shrug.

The odd silence is back, floating in the air between the two of you, something that you've never noticed before. You're not sure where it came from or what it's supposed to represent, but you wonder if Ben can feel it too.

“I-um- I’m sorry that I didn’t pick up the phone when you called. I didn’t know what to say.” You begin quietly. You wanted him to know that you had thought about picking it up, that you did want to talk to him.

“You don’t have to apologize for that Petals.”

“No I want to. And I’m sorry that I left you in the street like that. I should have stayed. I wanted-“ You stop talking, considering what you’re about to admit. “I wanted to stay with you.”

It seemed stupid to admit that out loud especially after you’d heard from Annie exactly what Ben had been doing all week, but you were so confused. You didn’t understand what you were feeling, didn’t understand why Ben asked you to come here, didn’t understand why he bought you a plant if you were only staying here for the party, and didn’t understand why you were so upset at the thought of going back home to your empty apartment.

Ben was confusing you again. He was being sweet and asking you how you were and he held your hand and he was genuinely asking you what you thought about the apartment and he bought you a plant to make you feel more at home. Not to mention he was acting as if the past week hadn’t happened, and it was still just the two of you back in your apartment.

And you could feel a cold chill of fear squishing your stomach into mush. You didn’t know what the fear was. Maybe it was because you were slowly realizing just how much you wanted Ben to be the man that he embraced when it was only the two of you. Maybe it was because you were realizing how much you liked being around him. Maybe it was because you were still cursing yourself because you didn’t want to fall for the wrong man. Or maybe it was because when Ben did things like this it was difficult for you to think that he was the wrong man.

He doesn’t want a relationship.

The thought doesn’t hold as much weight as it once did.

Ben’s hand gently touches the small of your back, turning you to look at him and making the thoughts evaporate. His green eyes search your face before he responds. “I wanted to come see you, but I thought you’d want to be left alone.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t want me to touch you in the street or check if you were okay and I wasn’t sure that I should-“ He clenches his jaw as if it’s difficult for him to admit this. “I didn’t think you wanted me there.”

“I did.” You whisper before you can stop yourself and his eyes widen in surprise. “Annie came to see me, but I wanted you. I-“

Ben gently traces your cheek with his rough fingertips, something warming in his gaze. The air between you is charging with electricity and you see his eyes dip to look at your mouth, before raising to your eyes once more. You know what he's silently asking you, and you want him to kiss you.

The memory of the two of you pressed against one another on your couch after the night Darren stayed in your apartment surfaces, the ghost of how it felt to be pressed against his body with your hands planted against the warm ridges of his muscles. You inhale a soft breath and it's full of Ben, enticing you forward, begging you to close the distance between the two of you.

Ben's thumb falls to the pillow of your lips, and they part in anticipation. Your body subconsciously moving closer to him so that your hands are resting against the soft fabric of his dark t-shirt. You can feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric soaking into the palms of your hands, a comfort in the chill of the marble covered room.

"I should have been there." He whispers. "But I-" Ben swallows, his voice no more than a murmur over the dull buzz of electricity that runs through the apartment.

The afternoon sun that shines through the glass windows behind you illuminates the flecks of gold in his eyes, making them a piercing green, and giving the illusion that they can see through you. Sometimes you thought that Ben noticed more about you than he was letting on, just as you noticed things about him that you were sure he tried to hide.

"It's okay." You murmur, leaning towards him, and letting your hands slowly move up the expanse of his chest.

“Sorry to interrupt.” A calm voice says from behind where Ben and you are standing.

The man standing in the doorway you'd, never seen in person, only on TV, but Stan Edgar is just as intimidating as he looks on the news. He's wearing a black pinstriped suit, a light blue shirt and a black tie. Not a piece of his outfit is out of shape. He looks calm and collected, not the frazzled out of control chaos that is Ashley when interacting with Ben.

And you hated him.

This was the man that had told Ben's team to stab him in the back and gave him to the Russians, and the man who gave Vogelbaum the okay to take Ben's genetic material and create Homelander. If Ben hadn't accepted the job with Stan, you probably would have ripped him to shreds.

Rex turns back from looking out the window and begins to skulk towards where Stan is, his beady black eyes narrowed up at the man. Stan looks down at the creature, who is about the size of a toaster now, in distaste.

“You don’t fucking knock?” Ben spits, turning around to face him, your hands falling from his chest.

“I did. I also called but you didn’t pick up your phone.” Stan says, undisturbed by Ben’s obvious anger. “Is she the new one that you made Ashley pick up?”

The new one?

His words settle in the pit of your stomach like an anchor making you remember exactly how Ben had spent his first week here at Vought. It made whatever the hell you'd just been feeling dissipate.

“Ashley was right, she certainly seems different than the others you’ve brought here. At least she’s wearing more clothes-“ Stan purses his lips looking you up and down. “Are you sure that you want her with you tonight? It is a big debut and-“

Stan was talking as if you weren’t there, as if what he was saying wasn’t insulting.

“What the fuck do you want?” Ben interrupts in a growl.

“We need to talk about how tonight is going to go. Not to mention Ashley has been waiting outside the door trying to muscle up the courage to knock so she can dress your date.”

“I can dress myself.” You say.

“Not for this.” Stan presses his lips together in a tight line, again looking you up and down as if you're a stain on his perfect suit.

Ben’s anger burns hot in the air, and you’re not sure if it’s because Stan interrupted the two of you or if it’s because he insulted you or if it’s because Stan just reminded you that you’re not special to Ben.

Because I’m not. No one who goes through women like that cares about them. What was I thinking? Ben’s probably using all of this in his grand plan of trying to sleep with me.

“Fine. Give me a minute and I’ll meet you outside.” Ben replies through gritted teeth..

“Don’t keep me waiting.” Stan gives you one more disappointed glance before he walks out the bedroom door.

Ben sighs as he turns back to you. “I-“

“It’s okay just go.” You take a step back from him. It was easier to clear your head when you couldn’t smell his shampoo or feel how wonderfully warm he is. “I’ll see you tonight. I guess.”

Ben hesitates as if there’s something he wants to say, but finally he sighs. “I’ll come pick you up. I think they're gonna fucking dress me somewhere else”

“Okay.” You nod once.

And as he walks out another uncomfortable thought begins to squeeze at your insides

What if this is Ben’s big move? Showing a woman a fancy apartment with a sprawling view of the city while inviting them to an exclusive party and acting like a completely different person, just to finally get me to sleep with him?

The flashing of the cameras and loud voices of the reporters shouting question after question made you dizzy. The brilliant lights blinding you as flash after flash barraged your senses from all sides. The lights were uncomfortably warm and the cameras that pointed at you made you feel like you were under a microscope.

It had taken an entire make up team and the four hours before the event to make sure that you were ready, with Ashley barking orders over the mad scramble of hands that touched every part of your body with no sense of shame. They had forced you to take a shower, and scrubbed your body so hard that you were sure there were skin cells missing, before yanking you out from under the warm water to dry you and tug and pull your hair in all different directions, trying to figure out exactly how you should have it done.

Whenever you tried to protest, someone would tell you how "fucking hot" you looked or how "sexy" you were. It didn’t make you feel any better and all you could think about was you hoped Ben was being subjected to such torture in another room of the Tower somewhere.

The team had rubbed you in creams from plastic containers and shiny body scrub so that you glittered under the lights and then slathered your face with more make up than you'd ever worn in your entire life. You felt like a doll being abused by a four-year-old who got her hands on a new make-up kit on Christmas morning.

When you'd finally thought it was over, Ashley had brought over a velvet box that held a diamond and emerald pendant that was bigger than the size of your thumb and made you feel sick to your stomach to think about how many groceries you could buy with the money it cost. When she tried to put it on you, you'd waved your hand and said that you didn't want it, but then she'd said that "Soldier Boy bought it especially for you and she'd be damned if she got killed over a fucking necklace." The drop emerald and diamond earrings that matched could have easily bought your grandmother's house in Illinois, but Ashley again refused to listen to your protests.

You didn't know why he'd bought you something so extravagant, especially if you were only going to be there for one night. The memory of what Stan called you followed the entire dressing process: “the new one.”

All it did was remind you that Ben didn’t want a relationship, and it was stupid to consider anything else despite how gentle he had been acting moments before Stan showed up.

The dress that Ashley had shoved you into was the same dark green of Ben’s supe suit, but made of a shimmery fabric that caught in the light. It was surprisingly close to the same style of the red one you wore to infiltrate the fundraiser weeks ago.

It hugged your body, clinging to the natural dips and curves, accentuating them and leaving nothing to the imagination. It was completely backless, held together by thin criss-crossing dark green fabric straps across the back that were so fragile you thought that any moment they would break. The front of the dress was plain and strapless, arching over the top of your breasts and cinched at the waist so tight you’re not sure how you’re breathing.

And it wasn't you, none of it was. The dress, the expensive jewelry, the party- it made you feel like you were five years old again and playing dress up with Annie in your grandmother's attic.

In the past whenever Annie did your makeup for you, at least she made you look like you, but after one look in the mirror, you didn't see you.

You wondered if this was what Ben wanted women to look like, so far from how they naturally looked, almost as if they were a shadow of themselves and plastered to be a perfect version of what an "ideal woman" should be.

But there was one piece of this outfit that seemed like you. There was a gardenia corsage on your right wrist, something that Ben had given you when you met up privately before your big entrance on the red carpet.

It had made you smile, something old fashioned he'd thought of and yet he knew you would like it because he knew that you loved gardenias. You were flattered that he'd remembered. He'd looked a little uncomfortable when he gave it to you, the same way that he always looked a little uncomfortable when things got a bit too personal, but he'd grunted out a "you like it?" and you couldn't help but smile up at him and nod, because you did.

And it seemed to tear you apart inside, because you wished you knew why Ben was doing all of this for you, why it was so imperative for you to see what this kind of life was like.

"Soldier Boy, is it true that you were overseas for 40 years?" A reporter screams from the sidelines into a microphone.

"Soldier Boy, who is she? Is she your new girlfriend? What's your name honey?" Another screams at you, but you don't answer.

"Are you a supe?"

"Show us your powers honey!"

It felt like you were on display and your words were caught in the back of your throat. Ben was next to you smiling and waving his hand, the epitome of cool, but you knew that you didn't look it. Your smile felt tight, and you were sure that the make-up plastered on your face was moments away from melting off your face.

His hair was slicked back in a very un-Ben way, his tailored suit was a dark green, so dark that it almost looked black except in the flashes of the camera, and he was wearing a black tie that shimmered whenever he turned.

You didn't think that Ben looked like Ben either, and something tightened around your throat when you looked at him, because all you could think was that this was the Ben he was becoming again to re-emerge into the public, the Ben you'd seen clips of in music videos, pictures, and old movies that donned the Soldier Boy uniform.

A little piece of your heart broke to see him like that, so different than the Ben who had gone to IKEA with you, the Ben who had checked on you when you had a nightmare, and the Ben who had slept in the hospital to make sure that you were okay.

And now that he was coming back to all of this, you thought that it meant you were losing him, and it hurt more than you'd realized.

The spotlights were blazing hot, your stilettoed black sandals were stuck in the red carpet, and you could feel the prickle of anxiety in the center of your chest crackling to life and spreading through the rest of your body. The urge to run was settling on your limbs, your body tenses, preparing to bolt-

Ben's arm comes around your waist and he pulls you against his chest, still smiling at the reporters, his hand now resting on the small of your back, and your hand goes to the front of his suit to steady yourself. He brushes his lips against your ear.

"It's okay Petals, I'm right here." He whispers, but you catch it.

His touch calms you, grounds you to the moment, and for a second the smile you have is genuine when the cameras continue to flash, your heart rate slowing with the warmth of his hand against your back.

"Thank you! That's enough photos." Ben flashes a winning smile and leads you past the paparazzi and into where the party is. He rolls his eyes with a sigh. "Fucking vultures."

You don't answer, instead you look around at all the other elegantly dressed people at the party, supes and non supes, and waiters who weave through the crowds with trays of food. You hadn't eaten anything all day, the only thing you'd had was a few sips of that latte, but you weren’t hungry

You felt so out of your element, so completely out of place, and the way you were dressed made you feel like a fraud. Annie had told you that she sometimes felt that way, but it passed. You knew that it wouldn’t for you.

She was here with Hughie. You'd seen her for a second and she'd looked at you in surprise. You hadn't been able to tell her that you were coming to this thing, because Ashley had confiscated your phone, stating that you didn't have enough of an "online presence" to post anything of worth.

You were living for the moment that Annie found you and you could collapse into her and hug her. Being here was just solidifying the fact that you weren't what Ben wanted, that Ben wanted this life, women, drugs, fame, and all you had was a crappy one-bedroom apartment in a shitty neighborhood.

And all you were was a hopeless romantic searching for something in someone that would never exist.

"Are you okay?" Ben asks you, and you snap back into reality. He's raising an eyebrow at you, looking almost concerned.

You hate that he was doing that, acting like he cared, when all it did was give you the false hope that he would turn into someone different, someone who wanted to have a relationship.

"Yeah, it was just a lot."

Ben clocks your frown and the scrunch between your eyebrows that he knows is you tell for when you lie. You hope that he doesn't point it out.

"Ben look, I know that you think that all of this is-" You wave a hand. "But it's not me. I'm not this girl I'm not-" Your voice catches for just a second. "The party, this dress, the jewelry I-"

"You don't like the necklace?" Ben frowns.

"I mean it's pretty, but all I can think about is how much it cost. And how expensive the insurance policy must be for it." Ben's lip quirks up in a smile. "I think you're the first person to ever think that when I got them jewelry."

"Exactly Ben. I don't know why you want me here. Stan said you should have brought a date-date, you know like them." You point at the twins hanging on Deep's arm who laugh and jump with whatever he says, both wearing identical dresses that look like they were rigged with fishnet and seaweed.

"I don't give a fuck what Stan Edgar thinks, and I wanted you to come to this with me. Just give it a chance, we've only been here a few minutes." Ben replies, but for a moment you think you see something that looks a little bit like disappointment in his eyes.

You bite your cheek and search his gaze, hoping to catch another glimpse of it, but you don't. "Okay." You relent, nodding your head.

Ben stands there for another minute surveying the room, watching the couples begin to dance on the dance floor, and others wobbling their way to the bar. He looks a little lost in thought, so you don't interrupt him.

"Wait here. I'll be right back." He squeezes your forearm before he vanishes into the crowd without another word.

"But-" You begin to say, but he'd already gone. You audibly sigh and begin to sway back and forth to the song, something that you're not sure the name of, but the words are melancholic, a man singing about a woman who thinks falling in love with him is madness.

Someone taps you on the shoulder and you expect it to be Annie, but when you turn you see Jake. He's smiling at you, his shaggy blondish brown hair falling forward into his tortoiseshell glasses, and he's wearing a charcoal-colored suit. There's a bandage on the left side of his face hiding a cut you can't see, but you knew what it was from. You'd never seen him in a suit and maybe the old you would have noted how good he looks, but you can't, not when seeing him is a shocking reminder of everything that happened with your brother.

"Jake? What are you doing here?" You sputter.

"My dad is one of Vought's lawyers." He shrugs. "Invited me to this. I think he thought it would cheer me up after well… you know."

"Fuck, Jake I am so sorry for what happened. I really didn't mean to drag you into all of that or-" Before you can finish your sentence, he pulls you into a tight hug.

"You don't have to apologize." Jake says not stopping the hug. "What happened wasn't your fault. Annie told me what happened."

"But I destroyed your shop. And your face! I-"

He pulls back with a wide smile, the same one that he'd had all the years that you'd worked for him. "It's okay. Honestly it could have been a lot worse, but Ben pulled from the wreckage. Guy saved my life. I owe him big."

"He what?" You ask confused. You remember that Ben said he'd seen someone else helping Jake from the rubble.

Why would he lie about that?

"He saved my life." Jake smiles wider. "Not to mention he called today, said that he's going to bankroll me for a whole new shop. For a guy who acts like he hates me, he's sure putting in a lot of money."

"He's going to pay for a new shop?"

"Yep. Good thing too. Thought I was going to have to be a lawyer again."

"You weren't too good at that." You snort.

"Don't remind me." He groans. "So you're a supe. And Ben is Soldier Boy?"

"Yeah, it's a long story."

"I guess I should have known you were a supe. No one can make plants grown that fast." Jake jokes, his glasses catching the lights. "And Ben's intimidating so, that tracks.”

"Guess so."

It was weird to talk to him again. You'd been avoiding it for the better part of a week, but the two of you were falling into the same patterns you had in the past, and it was nice.

But for the first time since you'd started working for Jake, you don't see the appeal of dating him. It was odd. All the qualities in a man that you were looking for was right in front of you and you felt… nothing. Sure Jake was cute in a puppy sort of way but-

"Ben hey." Jake smiles at where Ben appears over your shoulder, back from whatever mysterious location he had been in moments ago.

"Jake." He grunts his name and you can only imagine Ben's frown.

Jake looks back at you. "It was good to see you. We should meet up to talk about where I should put the shop and what I should name it. Ben had this great idea about adding fresh produce and fruit, and maybe doing a farmer's market on the weekend. I know how much you like that sort of thing." Jake looks up at Ben and extends his hand. "Thanks again Ben, you saved my ass, and I think this new shop is going to be great."

Ben takes it. "Don't mention it. Really." His voice lowers like it's a threat. "Don't fucking mention it to anyone."

"Sure." Jake winks at you before he walks away through the crowd in the direction of the bar.

There's an awkward moment of silence as you turn to look at Ben.

"Didn't take you long to find that pussy did it?" Ben's jaw is clenched tight and you notice that he looks a little angry.

"He found me." You find yourself feeling guilty, and maybe you were because you were technically here with Ben, but it wasn't a date. He was just showing you what all of this was like.

"Sure. Bet you were just waiting for me to fucking leave so you could get your hands on the perfect man." Ben shakes his head and begins to turn away.

"Careful there Gramps, someone might think you're jealous." You tease, scooting around him to stand in his way.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I am not fucking jealous of him and-“

Before Ben can finish his sentence, you pull him in for a hug. You know that he was angry for some unknown reason, but you didn't want to be angry with him, not when he saved Jake's life, and not when Ben told Jake to add fresh produce, fruit, and a farmer's market because he'd remembered that it was your dream.

"Thank you Ben." You whisper into his chest, his body tenses in surprise just the way it was the last time you hugged him.

"You're welcome." He's not hugging you back, he's more resting his hands on your waist, and slowly very slowly you feel his right arm begin to raise enough to hold you for just a few precious seconds more against him. It made your heart beat stutter, because it was the closest thing that Ben had ever done to hug you back.

When you pull away your cheeks are flushed bright red, and the gardenia on your wrist now has a second bloom that Ben notices. He touches the delicate petals with a wide understanding smirk, his eyes catching yours.

"Guess you're having a good time now." Ben breathes.

"I might be." You whisper back. "Why didn't you tell me that you saved him?"

"Who?"

"Jake."

Ben frowns at the mention of Jake's name, his fingertips still tracing the petals where they barely kiss your skin. "It didn't matter."

"You saved his life. It does."

"I didn't want you to think that I did it because I gave a shit about him."

"What?"

Ben's frown deepens. "I'm not a good person Petals, I don't give a shit about him."

"Then why did you save him?"

He doesn't answer.

"Ben." You say softly, touching the front of his suit and he widens his eyes at your boldness. "Talk to me."

"I saved him because I didn't want you to find out that you killed him. I knew that you were going through a lot and I know you think that he's so fucking perfect and he's the man you love or whatever." Ben says it bitterly and it was the first time you think that you'd ever heard him sound that way.

"I don't love him."

"You will." Ben grits his teeth. "Because he's everything you want."

"Is that why you're giving him money for the plant shop? Because you think that I-"

"No, I did that because I know how much you love that fucking place and how much you hate all of this and being here with me and-"

"I don’t hate being here with you Ben." You admit before you can stop yourself. "I mean all of this isn't my favorite, but… you're my friend."

It hurt you a bit to say friend, but you didn’t want Ben to think that you hated him, not after he had saved Jake because he knew that it would have crushed you if you'd killed him, and not when he told Jake to add produce, fruits, and a weekend farmer's market just for you.

Ben stands there for a minute, the cameras flashing in the corner of your eye, and the longer you stand there, you're suddenly aware that "Gonna Sing You My Love Song" By ABBA was playing in the background, an odd choice for a party like this.

You look up at him in confusion, and Ben is smiling sheepishly, before you realize that was why Ben walked away before Jake showed up, to tell them to play it for you. Ben's hand lands against the small of your back and he begins to lead you towards the dance floor.

"What where are we going?"

"We're going to dance."

"Oh no. Ben I don't know how to dance and-"

"Just follow my lead Petals." He pulls you against him, putting your left hand on his right shoulder while his right hand finds the small of your back and his left hand catches your right.

You know that you must look ridiculous as you try to wobble along following Ben's lead.

"It's okay Petals, it's just us." Ben whispers with a smile, pulling you just a little tighter against him as the two of you begin to sway to the music.

And the longer you sway to the music, the more comfortable you feel being there with Ben. The warmth of his hand warming your body, his green eyes only focused on you, and the soft smile on his lips so unlike the Ben you saw smiling for the cameras a few minutes ago.

"Ben?"

"Hmm?"

"Why is it so important to you that I experience all of this?"

"Because everything you know about supes is from Billy Fucking Butcher. It's not always the way he says."

"But that doesn't really answer my question. Why is it important to you?"

Ben doesn't answer for a few seconds, measuring what he says. "Because I want you to like it."

"Why?"

“Because-“

And this time, instead of finishing his sentence, Ben leans forward and kisses you. His lips move with a softness that you never knew that he possessed, the hand he had on the small of your back holding you tighter against him, as your body molds into his.

This kiss is different than the one that the two of you shared outside of your apartment the first night he stayed with you, it’s filled with something unspoken that makes the weight in your chest lighten, that makes you feel as if you're floating above the dance-floor, but then something clamps down tight on your ankle and drags you back down to earth.

The song continues to play, the soft notes and words bringing back the memory of your parents dancing in a darkened kitchen lit only by candlelight, with your father looking at your mother as if she was his whole world. Their love and your grandparent's love had infused your childhood with something magical, a romance that seemed to transcend time and space, you knew how much you wanted it.

And standing here with Ben kissing you only reminded you that he didn't want that, that he didn't want a relationship, that all he wanted was to sweep you off your feet and make you his for only one night when you wanted a lifetime.

You suddenly heard Stan Edgar's words ringing in your ears when he called you the "new one." Just another in a sea of women who threw themselves at Ben for this exact reason, for his suave attitude, extravagant gifts, and lavish parties where he brought them to cling to his arm.

You remember what Annie said about how Ben spent his entire week in the apartment upstairs, how he spent a whole week fucking his way through whatever came his way instead of calling you or texting you back, and how he didn't seem to care that you wanted to reach him.

And it snaps you out of it.

You pull back from Ben's kiss and out of his arms, your head swimming with emotion. The urge to cry comes up in the back of your throat like vomit, but you shove it down.

Ben looks surprised and you figure that he is, because it hadn't worked, you hadn't fallen for it the way the others had.

He says your name for the first time in a long time, but you shake your head and take another step back from him.

"I can't do this Ben." You turn and flee through the crowds, feeling everyone's eyes on you as you stumble on shaky legs towards the elevator.

You can hear Ben saying your name again and then hear Annie, but you ignore them. You can't be here, you can't go back to the prying eyes of the reporters, and you can't look at Ben, not when he was pretending to give you everything you wanted and you could feel your heart breaking.

The doors of the elevator close just as before Ben reaches them, and your eyes lock with his through the thin opening. He looks the way he did the day you left him standing in the street the day you killed Darren. The same look flashes in his eyes, shock, worry, and maybe just a little bit of fear, but you can't look at him anymore.

The numbers on top of the elevator passes in a blur, the tears finally bubbling up and spilling over your cheeks, the make-up that was so meticulously applied smudging, but you don't care.

You want to get out of this dress, get Rex, and go home. Your real home, where Bean is waiting for you, curled up on the couch, where your plants are, where you could crawl into bed under the covers and forget that this entire night ever happened.

But then you remember how cold it felt when you left this morning to get coffee with Annie, when you were aware of how empty it was when Ben wasn't there.

No. Please just let me get through this.

You practically shoot from a cannon when the elevator opens onto Ben's floor.

Rex greets you at the door with a toothy grin, now the size of a Labrador, jumping from where he was curled on the plush leather couch to come say hello.

You scratch him under the chin, your tears still falling and you knew that they wouldn't stop anytime soon. Everything was crashing down on you again, everything you were realizing that you felt about Ben.

You stumble through the large apartment towards the bedroom hoping to find your clothes where Ashley had wadded them into a plastic garbage bag as if she couldn't look at denim overalls without vomiting.

And as you reach the bedroom door, you hear the door of the apartment open and Ben shout your name.

For a second you think about locking the bedroom door, but you figure that he'll only break it down. Ben’s track record with locked doors wasn't the best and you didn’t want this one to suffer.

You snag the plastic bag from the corner of the room just as he opens the bedroom door.

"Petals, what the fuck is going on? Why did you-" Ben begins to say, shutting the door on Rex who was sitting just outside.

"I can't do this Ben." You interrupt him.

"Do what?"

"Any of this!" You wave your hand around the room for emphasis. "I'm not this girl. And I'm not some bimbo that you can wine and dine and fuck and then throw away."

"What in the actual fuck are you talking about?"

“I can’t do this." You repeat with a sob, tears curling down your cheeks. You couldn't quite look at him, not without feeling like your heart was burning up. "So, whatever fucked up science experiment this is I want out. I can’t be here.”

��I thought we were having a good time? That you were enjoying yourself?” Ben says. "We were dancing and then I-"

“Why? Because you were pretending to be the man that I’ve always wanted, the one that keep telling me you aren’t? By making me fall in love with a version of you that doesn’t exist? So after you get what you want you just leave me?” You spit.

It hurt you to say the words to him, but it was how you felt. You felt like Ben was yanking you around on an emotional chain, trying to manipulate you by doing kind things, by acting like he cared, just so that you'd finally give in to him after saying no to him since the moment the two of you met.

It made you feel stupid to think that there was a part of you that believed he could be the man you fell in love with.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you down there changing tactics to manipulate me!”

“What?” Ben shouts looking utterly confused.

“Manipulate my emotions by playing that song, saving Jake, telling him to open a fucking farmer's market, and holding me like you actually care with the reporters and kissing me the way I want!"

“I wasn’t trying to fucking manipulate you-“

“Don’t try to lie. I know when you’re lying.” You point a finger at him, ripping the gardenia corsage from your wrist and tossing it across the room at him.

It hits him square in the chest and falls to the floor.

“I never fucking lie to you.”

"Oh please." You could feel the anger, frustration, and the feelings you had for Ben that you pushed down coming to a head. "You do. And I refuse to be 'the new one.'"

Ben's eyes widen in realization. "Are you talking about what that piece of shit Stan said when he saw you earlier today?"

"What else?! Annie told me exactly how you spent your glorious and masterful return to Vought. How you had Stan Edgar bus in women for you all week long!" You reach around to remove the necklace and the ears, fearful that you’ll break them in your anger.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING!" You scream so loud you were sure that the words were vibrating against the windows. "It's how I know you're manipulating me! Because if you really did care about me, and care what I like, and want to be the man who I saw downstairs or the man that came to check on me when I was having a nightmare or the man who sat in the hospital for days you wouldn't have been doing that all week. You would have been in Illinois with me!"

"I told you why I wasn't fucking there!" Ben shouts back just as loud.

"Oh sure. Mr. "I didn't think you'd want me there" What a great fucking excuse, just let me swoon!" You snarl back. The tears were falling faster now and showed no signs of stopping.

Ben's teeth grit together and he looks close to exploding, but you see him gain control. "Just shut up for one fucking second and let me explain."

But you're already past all of this. You were so tired emotionally and physically, so out of touch with everything that by now you could feel yourself slipping into insanity.

"No Ben, because you know what?" By now you're so frustrated that you're almost laughing. "Congratulations! Your big plan paid off!"

"What?"

"You've done it! You've won. You finally wore me down Ben. You finally did everything that I wanted, so come on let's do it! Let's fuck! Because who cares about all the fucking romantic pussy shit right?" Your hands scramble against the dress, the delicate material tearing off in your hands easily and leaving you in the lacy black bra and underwear that Ashley had forced you into. You advance on Ben, throwing away the ruined dress. "This is what you wanted right? Me naked and completely yours? So let's go! No emotions no nothing. Who needs any of that as long as you get laid? You'll get your five to ten minutes, and then you'll throw me away. Just like you throw away all those other women!"

Ben looks at you stunned as if he thinks you've lost your mind and maybe you have. Because you were so sick of this, of all of this, for trying so hard to refuse him, for trying to hold out for someone who you didn’t think you’d ever meet.

"But it's fine. Throw me away! People have manipulated me and thrown me away my whole life, but whatever you want Ben. Because it’s all about you! Oh wait do you want me to call you Soldier Boy? Would that make all of this better for you?"

Ben still hasn't moved and by now you're standing just a few inches away from you, the expression on his face unreadable.

You grip the front of his suit. "Come on. Take off your clothes!"

He says your name in a low tone, but you don’t listen to him.

"Oh what? Were you expecting something different? You want to pretend that you're going to make love to me? You think that’ll help?”

He says your name again.

"Oh you don't want me now? Is that it? Because I'm finally giving you everything you want?" You rip the suit jacket off of him, and reach to grab his shirt, tearing it and sending buttons flying everywhere.

"Petals." Ben growls, his jaw tight.

“No! Come on. You pretended to be everything I want, you deserve a good fuck. Come on!” You tug at what's left of his shirt, losing the fight to the emotions that continue to crash over you, sobs shaking your shoulders. You beat your fists against his chest, and you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels so damn good to hit him to release whatever the hell all of this was.

Ben's hands come up to grip your wrists the best he can to stop you, but by now you can't form words. Uncontrollable sobs are shaking your body, tears blurring your vision, your breath coming in savage gasps that do little to bring oxygen into your lungs. The makeup is smeared over your cheeks and you know that you look like a drowned raccoon by now, but you don’t care.

He whispers your name in a soft tone, in a way that you've never heard him say before, and it only makes you cry harder.

You collapse into his chest, shaking uncontrollably. You couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything except cling to the tatters of his dress shirt and sob into his chest.

Ben picks you up, scooping under your knees as if you weight absolutely nothing and places you on his bed, but instead of staying there with you he walks away and it breaks something inside, because all you can think is that you'd finally done it, you'd finally proven to him that you wouldn’t be one of the women who gave in and he really no longer would pretend to care about you.

You grab for one of the pillows, smearing your make-up onto the fabric and clutching it to your chest like a lifeline. You could hear Rex outside the door scratching because he wanted to check in on you, but you can't get up.

The bed dips and when you look up Ben is sitting there with a wash-cloth in his hand.

"What?" You sniffle.

"Close your eyes." He says.

You do as he says, sitting up so he can see you better. The washcloth drags over your cheeks, wiping away the makeup that was smudged and caked over your red cheeks.

“I never really liked makeup. When I was younger all the women used to look natural didn’t wear all this shit on their faces.” He rumbles. "I kind of like that you don't wear it as much."

The pressure of the cloth is surprisingly gentle against your cheeks far gentler than you would have thought possible. He adjusts his left hand to cup your cheeks, and as another tear falls you feel his thumb brush it away. The methodical stroking of the washcloth against your skin is calming your racing heart and Ben is quiet for another few minutes, focusing on his task.

Finally, he withdraws his washcloth and sets it down on the bedside table, next to the pothos. You feel his weight shift away from you.

“Put this on. Because you in my bed in your fucking underwear is really testing my restraint.”

You open your eyes and see that he's holding his dark t-shirt, the one from earlier that he wore when he came to pick you up. You raise your eyes to look at him, trying to gauge what he's feeling, but he's keeping his cards close to his chest.

You slip the shirt over your head and as soon as you do, Ben tucks it under you.

Ben was being more gentle than usual. Gentler than you'd ever seen him be. It was making you dizzy. Because again, he was acting like a completely different person. The person that you wanted him to be, the person that he could be to make you fall in love with him.

He swallows.

“I didn’t bring you to Vought because I thought I could manipulate you into sleeping with me.” Ben pauses to readjust. “I mean the thought crossed my mind, that maybe you would be more open to sleeping with me. I'm not perfect Petals, I'm just a fucking man."

You're clutching the pillow to your chest still, trying to understand what he was saying. His thigh is brushing against yours from where he sits on the edge of the bed.

“And you’re right I do want you. I’ve always wanted you, since the moment I saw you.”

“I know that-“

“Let me fucking finish.” He snaps

You sigh and rub your cheeks with the back of your hand. The expression on his face is almost pained, frustration shines behind his eyes as if he hates what he's about to admit.

“I’m such a fucking pussy.” Ben shakes his head, saying it more to himself than to you.

What?

“I wanted to have you. And you kept saying no. Which normally I wouldn’t care, I would just move on, but you fucking did something to me. Whenever I was fucking someone else all I thought about was you. You yelling at me, or going off about some stupid shit that I did, when I know that I did it the right way." He huffs. "And it-shit- It made me guilty."

"Guilty?"

"Yes!" He snaps.

"Why?"

"I don't fucking know! It just did!"

Your eyes widen in shock. It was the last thing that you were expecting Ben to say.

"I've never, never cared about anyone other than me. ME. I'm Soldier Boy. I'm not supposed to have any kind of weakness especially not for someone like you." Ben spits the word 'you' like a curse.

"Like me?" You whisper with a sniffle. By now the tears are about to start falling again. You didn’t know what he thought this was, but it just seemed like he was insulting you. "Ben I don't understand what you're saying."

“Yes like you! You’re-“ He gestures to you as if he can’t really find the words. “You’re fucking annoying , you crochet those ridiculous sweaters, you like plants, you get people presents for their birthdays, you sing in the shower, you care about other people-“

“So I act like a person?” You wipe away the tears with the back of your hand.

“No! You-“ He roars in frustration and rises from the bed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

You can see the glow in the center of his chest burning hot as if he's about to explode, but he gets it under control.

“When Diana called me and told me that you wanted me there I-“ Ben's jaw tightens. “I wanted to come, but I hate how much I care about you because I fucking shouldn’t!”

“You hate how much you care about me?”

"I knew that I was in too deep, so when Stan called I jumped at the chance to get out of Butcher's shitty little outfit! I came here and I had him bus in all those women so I could fuck it out of my system, fuck you out of my system but I can't!" His eyes flash around the room with anger and frustration. "Because when I moved out I realized it meant I wouldn’t see you. It meant that I wouldn’t hear you bitch about me doing something wrong, I wouldn’t see your cheeks get fucking red right before you tell me off, I wouldn't smell that damn grapefruit shampoo that follows you around.” By now he almost looks angry, shouting more at himself than at you. "I wouldn't see you sitting on that stupid fucking couch in those sweatpants that drive me crazy while you crochet like a fucking old person. And I wouldn't see the way all the plants in your apartment turn towards you when you walk in or how they all fucking bloom when you smile."

Wait a minute, is he saying that he misses me when I'm gone? That he missed seeing me as much as I missed seeing him when he didn't come to Illinois?

"And I fucking saved that pussy's life because I knew it would destroy you if you found out he died. And I wanted to fund his new plant shop with a damn farmer's market because you said that was your dream and yeah maybe I wanted you to like all of this-" Ben waves his arms around the room. "But I want you to be happy Petals! I fucking hate it when you cry and I hate what happened with your brother and everything that happened with that piece of shit Elijah. I wanted you to have a choice to leave it all, because the shit that Butcher puts you through every damn week isn't for you! I've known that since the day we fucking met."

You felt your chest tighten with his confession, because you suddenly realize that Ben was trying to give you a way out, he was trying to pull you away from Butcher's line of work because he knew it wasn't for you.

It was the conversation the two of you had the first night he stayed with you, when he said that you didn't quite "fit." It was true. You didn't love working for Butcher and you only stuck around to be with Annie, but the fact that Ben cared enough to try and give you an out, something that not even Butcher had done, made you feel like crying all over again. By now he was pacing the room, talking more to himself than to you, almost as if he didn't really want to tell you what he was feeling.

And despite never telling Ben, he figured out that you felt more like you at the plant shop.

"I don't know what you fucking did to me. I've never felt any of this shit before! Even with that bitch Countess this was different! It wasn't like this! I can't sleep without hearing you breathing, I can't eat without knowing that you ate- because you always fucking forget to eat some shit, and I can't survive without seeing you. So are you happy? You've turned me into a pussy. Because yeah I'd still like to fuck your brains out, but now I don't want to do that with anyone else I just want to do it with you." He shouts it pointing a finger at you as if he's accusing you of being a witch.

He is in love with me. Soldier Boy is in love with me. BEN IS IN LOVE WITH ME.

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks to the chest, that even though Ben tried to distance himself from you, he had fallen, he had done the one thing that he swore than he never was going to.

"Ben-" You start to say in a whisper, but he keeps going.

"So no at the party I wasn't trying to manipulate you. I held you close in the photos because I knew you were scared. That’s why I made the cunts stop taking pictures. I kissed you like that because you were looking up at me with that look in your eyes that makes me fucking burn. I had them play that damn song because I wanted you to be happy to be there with me, especially after that fucking pussy Jake came over and touched you. Do you have any idea what it does to me when he touches you? Or when he makes you fucking smile about some shit? Or when he looks at you? Or the way you look at him?" His chest is glowing again. The tatters of his shirt are still hanging off his body from where you ripped it open.

"Ben-"

"And yeah, maybe I'm not some wimp who likes fucking plants. And maybe you're right, maybe I'm not the guy you bring home to meet your parents, but all I fucking want is for you to look at me the way you look at him!" He snarls and your mouth drops open in shock. "Do you have any idea how fucking ridiculous that is? I don't get jealous! I have fucked so many women and never given a shit if they had someone else, but I'm not even fucking you and the thought of you with him makes me want to-"

"Ben!" You shout over his monologue.

"What?" Ben snaps face contorted with rage.

You swallow. "I love you too."

And you know it's the truth, you know that it's exactly what you've been ignoring and what you've been fighting tooth and nail to avoid admitting to yourself because you were afraid that you were going to get hurt. You were afraid to have those kinds of feelings for Ben, because you thought he would only break your heart and push you away.

You can hear your grandmother's words ringing in your ears:

"There's something else that you refuse to admit to yourself because you're scared. You should though, because when you embrace it, what comes after is really beautiful."

You had been so afraid to fall for the wrong man, but looking at Ben now and listening to everything he said to you, everything he admitted didn't make you think that he was the wrong man anymore. It made you realize that he was the right man, but only for you.

Ben is still staring at you, face contorted with his rage and frustration, eyes burning with the jealousy that he's never allowed himself to admit aloud.

But you refuse to take it back. It was true, maybe the truest thing that you have ever admitted in your entire life, and you didn't regret it.

You knew you loved him even when he made a disgusting joke or teased you or drove you to the point of insanity. You knew that it was why Ben was able to push all your buttons just the right way in a way no one ever had. You knew that was why your apartment was so empty and why you kept thinking that something was missing when he wasn’t there.

Because you loved Ben, and nothing else in your life seemed to matter.

His entire body is pulled tense, the glow in his chest dimming until it's completely gone. And for just a moment you think that Ben is going to start yelling at you again and accusing you of bewitching him, but he doesn't.

Ben crosses the room in two powerful strides and practically tackles you back onto the bed. His mouth fits against yours, urgent, demanding, but also filled with things unsaid. The feelings that both of you had for so long colliding, like a supernova, making your body ignite. You melt into him, feeling the comforting weight of his body settle on top of yours like a heated blanket as you sink into the blankets beneath you.

You hate that you denied yourself this indulgence for so long, not when it feels like Ben was made for you. Not when every single twist of his tongue sends you further into overdrive and makes something at the back of your mind scream “MORE!” at the top of its lungs.

Ben’s body fits perfectly over yours, his hands holding on to your cheeks so tight as if he’s afraid you’re going to pull away from him again as if he thinks you’ll run like you did.

A part of you knows that you’ll always feel guilty for that, for running from Ben when he kissed you on the dance floor. But you won’t feel guilty for this.

The world falls silent and you’re left with Ben.

The man who seemed to be wrong for you in every way, the one who told you that he didn’t believe in romance, and the man who you can’t live without.

“Ben-“ You moan into his mouth your arms wrapped under his arms to hold him close to you, afraid that he’s going to cut and run. “Ben wait-“

“What?” He smiles down at you the same way he did the morning you woke up next to him. And it’s the same way you wanted to make him smile for the rest of your life. Not the cocky smirk,but the soft smile that you felt Ben only reserved for you.

But before you can answer, Ben dips his mouth down and kisses you again. It’s not with the same burning intensity as before, but this time it’s with the gentle movement of his lips against yours, the soft nudge of his nose while his scruff rubs against your cheeks in a way that makes you sigh into his mouth.

“What is it Petals?” He whispers pulling back.

You gently shuffle your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, loving the way the strands fall between your fingertips and scrunching it out of the slicked back style it was earlier. He looks more like himself now. “Can we go back to the apartment?”

“You want to leave?” Ben frowns. “You don’t want to stay with me?” The way his voice shifts just a little, breaks your heart and you pull his face back down so you can kiss him again.

How can he think that I don't want to stay with him if I just admitted that I loved him? Is that how it was with Countess? That she promised him those little things and then left him?

“Of course I want to stay with you Ben. I just like the apartment more."

“Then why?”

“Because it’s cold here. There’s no warmth and nothing familiar. It’s like a museum. And I miss Bean.”

“But-“

“I know that you’re used to this and that you like all of this, but I don’t. I’m not this girl. I’m not the parties and the jewelry and the millions of screaming fans and the ridiculous dresses. I like my little crappy apartment and my five hundred jobs and just staying in to watch movies and eat pizza or read a book and I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” His hand cups your cheek.

“Because this is what you like. The fans, the parties, the apartment on the top floor of Vought tower-“

“I don’t care about any of it if you’re not with me.” Ben winces as if it physically hurt him to say that. “Fuck. Forget I said that-“

Your lips meet his, gently pulling him further on top of you. “No.” You whisper, pressing another kiss to the tip of his nose. “Because it’s not weak for you to admit that you like having me around. Would you hate it if I said that I hate not being around you?”

“No.” He mutters, but he doesn’t look any less disgusted with himself and you’re not convinced.

"We're going to have to work on that Gramps." You smile kissing him once more. Ben's hands travel from your face down to your hips griping your body even tighter against where he lies in the cradle of your thighs and bringing your legs up to wrap around his waist. "Ben?"

"Hmm?"

"I also don't want to have sex with you in this bed."

"Why not?" He smirks. "It's pretty comfortable."

"Because I don't know when the last time you cleaned the sheets was and I don’t want to think about all the women that have been in here this week."

Ben frowns. "Probably good that you don’t." But then he smirks again, pushing the cotton t-shirt you’re wearing up over your thighs, brushing his fingertips against the soft skin gets closer to everywhere you want him to be, his eyes glinting mischievously. "But you're finally admitting you want to have sex with me?"

"I guess so."

“Good.” He smirks. “Because I think I’ve been patient long enough. And I can’t wait to show you just what you’ve been missing out on.”

“You are so full of-“

Ben cuts you off again, his tongue slipping between your lips while his fingers search even higher to a place that makes you gasp and moan into his mouth.

“You were saying?” You can feel his smirk against your lips and fuck if it’s not the sexiest thing you’ve ever felt.

“I was saying, let’s get out of here.”

The car drive from Vought Tower to your apartment was ten minutes, and you were very much appreciating the tinted windows and private backseat from the driver. Ben hadn't been able to take his hands off you since the two of you left and you also were enjoying learning how much Ben liked it when you touched him.

You didn't know how you were ever going to stop. Everywhere inside and out of you felt like it was on fire. It had never been this way with any of the men that you'd dated in the past.

Even your first boyfriend, Newton, never made you feel as beautiful and sexy as Ben did, but it felt pointless to compare them. Not when Ben touching you made you feel like you were radioactive and burning from the inside out.

By the time you get to your apartment door, your lips are already swollen and red, and there’s a collection of marks on your neck that Ben was more than happy to place.

“Ben-“ You moan softly trying to fit your key into the lock of your front door.

He was pressed against you, his hands roaming up and down while he sucked another mark into the shadow of your jaw, his beard burning against your delicate skin in a way that made you want to lose yourself in him.

“I’m a little busy at the moment Petals.”

“We’re in public.” You giggle as you try to fit your key in the door again, but Ben pushes you up against it, his large hand reaches low to squeeze your butt and possessively roams his other one over your chest in a way that makes you flush bright red at the thought of anyone seeing the two of you.

Rex was sitting patiently at your feet for the door to open, while looking up and down the hallway for a potential meal.

“So?” Ben rumbles against your throat, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. “I want everyone to know you’re my girl.”

“Everyone or Jake? Because I don’t see him and-“

Ben moves so fast you think you imagine it. Your arms are suddenly wrapped around the back of his neck, and he has your legs tangled around his waist, bracing your back against the door.

“Don’t say his name in front of me.” Ben all but growls, eyes so dark that it sends a shudder down your spine. “Not now.”

“Please don’t be jealous of him.” You whisper, nudging your nose against his, before you kiss him once more. “I stopped noticing him the day you moved in.”

“Oh really?”

You nod.

“Good thing too.” He murmurs with a smirk. ��Because I’m about to make you forget him and everything else.”

A shudder goes through your body that Ben notices and the smirk that curves over his lips makes it difficult to breathe.

“Your heart is racing.” The hand that he has placed under your leg to support you against the door brushes against the soft fabric of the sweatpants he let you borrow moving back to hold on to your ass. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re excited.” He kisses you again, long and drawn out in a way that makes you feel like you’re going to melt into a puddle. “That I excite you.”

He’s going to be the death of me.

“You excite me too.” Ben says kissing the slope of your neck to suck a new mark there, before you can stop him.

“You’re very sure of yourself.” You say out of breath.

“Mhmm.” He moans, but he puts you down to let you open the door.

Your hand finds his as you cross the threshold of the apartment, giving it a gentle squeeze to reassure him.

Bean is lounging on the couch, a lazy smirk on his lips as if he knew exactly what the two of you were about to do, and Rex scuttles over to sit on the other side of the couch, jostling Bean who gives an angry hiss, that Rex ignores.

The air in the apartment is different now that Ben is with you. It’s not cold or dark anymore or empty, it’s warm and light and filled with something that you’re not sure what it is yet, but you can’t wait to find out. And it makes you happy, happier than you’ve ever felt in your entire life.

“So… yours or mine?” Ben murmurs with a smile, his eyes shifting to the couch in your living room before flicking above your head to the darkened hallway where your bedroom is.

“Hmm.” You bite the inside of your cheek as if contemplating something. “Well I was thinking-“ You begin to walk backwards, tugging him in the direction of the bedroom. “What about ours?”

You didn’t think you’d ever seen Ben smile so wide, his eyes softening in the gentle light coming from the lamps in your living room.

“You asking me to move back in?”

“No. I’m asking you to come home.” You whisper because you knew that it was home, that no matter how many times Ben had said it in passing, the word home had changed into something wonderful.

“I like the sound of that Petals.”

You continue to pull him down the hallway, but before you get to the bedroom, Ben stops.

“Petals?”

“Yeah?” You look up at him suddenly worried.

“I’m not going to lie to you I’m not really that gentle, but I know that’s you want that. That you want someone who’ll make love to you, but I-“ He grimaces when he says the words ‘make love.’ “I don’t know if I can.”

“It’s okay.” You whisper, cupping his bearded cheek. “As long as I have you it doesn’t matter.”

“You do. And I’m going to try.” Ben murmurs. “I want to show you how much you mean to me.”

“I know.” You kiss him again and wonder if he’s ever said that to anyone else. “I trust you Ben.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Let me decide that.”

And it was true. You knew that Ben wasn’t gentle, but he was with you. And you trusted him. And sure, maybe it wouldn’t look the same way that you’d always imagined when you read those romance books, but it was your love story, your romance, and you didn’t care how it looked as long as Ben was there with you.

A/N: Well the two idiots finally figured it out in the most dramatic way possible lol. I will say that writing that confession scene might be my favorite thing that I've ever written, goodness it was so fun and I've had it written for AGES 😂😭. I'm not quite done with them yet, I see maybe another chapter or two, but we are quickly nearing the end of this story. Again thank you so much everyone for all the love and support, I really couldn't do it without all the wonderful feedback and love that everyone has shown me. ❤️🥰

If you'd like to ask me about my WIPs for WIP game my asks are open! And my WIPs are listed on this post!

As Always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know :)

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