#Reconnecting Final Chapter

[paramasqueradeva]

RECONNECTING - Final Chapter [ Deltarune Comic Dub ]

Comic Creator: @purplebehittindifferent

*Reconnecting Playlist* : https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6YKEdMxKey2c6A9aqimdZGtcpXIPKhO2

[vunblr]

Toy Soldier (part 5)

Bit by bit, torn apart. We never win, but the battle wages on for toy soldiers.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Tags and Warnings: 18+ only. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Smut. Canon-Typical Violence. Dark Content: Sexual Assault Wounds (Bucky). Depictions of Physical Wounds. Psychological Trauma. Mentions and depictions of Non-Con (both characters as victims).

Summary: She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

Word Count: 7.3k

Previous Chapter

The next day, she messaged Sam, asking if he could stop by her house before the briefing. His reply came quickly, surprised but agreeable, suggesting a time two hours before the meeting. When the knock finally came, she took a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever reaction he might have.

She opened the door to his familiar, easy smile, but the knot in her stomach didn’t ease. “Hey,” he greeted casually, stepping inside when she gestured for him to come in. “This feels serious. What’s up?”

She led him to the couch, motioning for him to sit. Her palms were clammy, and her fingers twitched slightly as she sat across from him. “It is,” she admitted, “And... I need you to hear me out before you say anything.”

That wiped the smile from his face. Sam leaned forward and clasped his hands loosely between his knees. “Okay. I’m listening.”

She inhaled deeply, and then, she started. From her life before Hydra -her simple, ordinary life in the 60s- to the day everything changed. The kidnapping. The endless, suffocating years as a prisoner, a tool. Her voice faltered as she described the barest surface of what she’d endured and what she’d been forced to do regarding the Winter Soldier. She tried to keep the focus on herself, omitting the details that might betray Bucky’s privacy, but it was impossible to completely separate their pasts.

Sam listened without interrupting, his expression shifted with every new revelation: concern, disbelief, pity, before being replaced with something softer. Compassion.

When she finished, she let out a shuddering breath, slumping her shoulders. “I’m sorry I never told you anything about... this. For giving you my manufactured past. For lying to you about who I am.”

He shook his head immediately. “Don’t apologize for that. It’s your story, and it’s yours to share whenever you’re ready. Or not at all. I get why you didn’t say anything. Hell, I can even understand why the government kept it locked up.” His gaze softened, leaning back slightly. “But it doesn’t change a damn thing. I never doubted our friendship. Not for a second.”

Relief bloomed in her chest at his words. She managed a small smile, twisting her fingers nervously in her lap. “Thank you, Sammy”.

Sam nodded, and then his expression grew thoughtful. “So... that’s why Bucky knew you couldn’t heal yourself?”

“Yeah.” She gave a short, almost bitter laugh. “The information was never given by Hydra to him, but there were... moments. Times when he saw me.” Her eyes drifted downward. “And I guess he connected the dots. If I could heal myself, why would I walk around for days with a bruised lip, or limping?”

Sam exhaled slowly, his brow furrowing. “Damn.”

She nodded, tightening her hands together. “Yeah.”

“And... I didn’t tell you this either,” she hesitated, twisting her fingers in her lap. “Bucky and I... we’ve been seeing each other. After Poland.”

Sam’s brow quirked, a small, curious smile tugging at his lips. “Oh?”

She exhaled, searching for the right words. “Just... reconnecting. Or connecting. I don’t know exactly what to call it yet. Our relationship -if you can even call it that- back then didn’t precisely involve normal conversation over coffee.”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “So, the Winter Sulkier talks to you over coffee?”

That drew a chuckle from her lips, lightening the tension in the air. “Yeah. I mean, he’s more of a listener most of the time, but yeah, he talks.”

Sam’s smile softened as he observed her, but she dropped her gaze to her hands again, and her expression turned more serious. “Thing is... he was here yesterday when you called me about the mission. And when I mentioned Argentina and a large crew heading there...” She paused, tightening her fingers together. “He got all worked up. I think he intuits there’s something to do with them.”

Sam’s expression darkened, and his easy demeanor faded. He shook his head slowly, dropping his gaze to the floor. “He isn’t wrong.”

Her chest tightened at the confirmation, but she continued. “He left immediately after that. Told me to talk to you about... us.” She hesitated, then added, “And, that he’s coming.”

Sam let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. “Of course he did.”

“I tried to tell him it wasn’t his decision to make,” she said quickly, “But…”

“-there’s no stopping him,” Sam finished with a faint shake of his head, a flicker of exasperation in his tone. “Yeah, I know.”

----

Sam drove them to the briefing at the DHS Strategic Operations Center, a heavily-secured government facility that handled covert international assignments. The building loomed large, with its sleek gray façade and high-security checkpoints manned by armed guards.

To her surprise -or not-, when they entered the briefing room, Bucky was already there, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. He looked calm, but the tension in his posture told her otherwise.

Sam quirked a brow at him, gesturing vaguely toward the entrance. “How the hell did you get in here?”

Bucky just stared at him in response, with an unreadable expression.

“Seriously, man,” Sam pressed, muttering something under his breath, shaking his head as he took a seat. She, on the other hand, couldn’t help but smile faintly at him, though the knot of worry in her stomach hadn’t eased.

The room began to fill with agents and operatives, and a few heads turned toward Bucky, with flashing recognition across their faces. It was clear that having both the Winter Soldier and the Falcon in the operation was a major bonus for the mission and a point of fascination for everyone in the room.

She slid into a chair beside Sam, sneaking a glance at Bucky, who had claimed a spot near the corner of the table. He caught her eye briefly, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them.

“Looks like the government’s thrilled to have their star players,” she murmured under her breath to Sam.

----

The room fell silent as the operation leader stood at the head of the table, pointing to a digital map of Ushuaia Province projected on the wall. “As suspected, there’s an active Hydra facility in the region. Thanks to intel provided by Argentina’s military forces, we’ve identified its exact location. It’s heavily fortified, with multiple levels of security and a significant number of personnel. Resistance is expected to be strong, and casualties are a possibility.”

The words hung heavy and foreboding between the crew.

“As we continue,” the leader said, turning toward her, “your role is crucial. Due to the expected resistance, we need you on the field, embedded with a group of agents. Your abilities may be needed in the heat of the fight. Even some casualties won’t be avoidable, your presence could make the difference between life and death for many of our operatives.”

Bucky’s body tensed immediately, snapping his sharp gaze to the leader. He didn’t wait to be addressed, didn’t wait for permission to speak. “No,” he said firmly, his voice cut through the room like a blade. “I don’t agree.”

The leader’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Excuse me?”

Bucky straightened from his spot, squaring his broad shoulders. “Sending her into a live combat zone? With Hydra? It’s a mistake. She doesn’t belong on the front lines, she belongs somewhere safe. She can work from a plane or a secure location if you need her. Putting her directly in danger is reckless.”

She could feel the weight of his words pressing against her like a physical force, but her focus was on the leader, not him.

“Barnes,” the leader started, “with all due respect, this isn’t your call-”

“No, but it’s common sense,” Bucky cut in, hardening his voice. “If things go south, she’s the one they’ll target first. Do you really think they wouldn’t recognize her? That they wouldn’t know what she can do and what she’s worth to them?”

Her heart clenched at the words, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she stood, scraping her chair softly against the floor as she rose to her feet.

“Enough,” she said sharply, interrupting him.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and his gaze snapped to her, but she didn’t look at him. Her eyes were locked on the operation leader, unwavering and resolute.

“I’m in,” she said firmly.

“You don’t-” Bucky’s voice carried a mix of frustration and concern, but she turned to him before he could say more.

“I said I’m in, Bucky,” she repeated, in a softer tone this time but no less determined. “This is my choice.”

The room was silent again, the tension thick in the air as the leader gave her a small nod. “Good. Then we’ll move forward as planned.”

Bucky’s hands flexed into fists at his sides, but he said nothing more. She could feel his eyes on her, the weight of his disapproval and concern, but she didn’t falter.

This was her fight too. And she wouldn’t let anyone -not even him- take that from her.

The operation leader continued detailing the roles while pointing to the screen. “Barnes, your job is to breach and clear one of the facility’s entrances. You’ll be working with a tactical unit to infiltrate and eliminate the immediate threats on the perimeter.”

Bucky crossed his arms, flexing a muscle in his jaw. “I’ll go with her team.”

The room collectively turned to look at him, as the team leader narrowed his eyes in displeasure. “That’s not your assignment.”

“Well, I’m making it mine,” Bucky said, sharp and unwavering.

Sam let out a low scoff, raising a brow at his partner. “You’re just great at following orders.”

Bucky shot him a sidelong glare but ignored the jab, turning back his attention to the leader. “Let’s be honest,” he said, his tone bordering on cocky. “I’m the best asset you’ve got going in there. If she’s on the field, it makes sense for me to stay close. She makes sure I keep going, and I’m the one who can get her out in one piece.”

The leader leaned forward slightly, clearly distressed by the audacity. His hands fell flat on the table. “You’re overestimating your authority here, Barnes. This isn’t a solo mission.”

“I’m not saying it is,” Bucky replied “But if something goes wrong, I’d rather she have me at her back than anyone else.”

Another agent, seated further down the table, cleared their throat. “With all due respect, Sergeant Barnes, you’re probably not the one who’d need her help. You’re a super soldier. You’ve got advanced healing, stamina, and the works. If she’s in the field, she’ll be more useful to the non-enhanced units who’ll be taking the brunt of the fight.”

Bucky opened his mouth to argue but stopped short. He knew she was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He didn’t need her assistance. He wanted her nearby for reasons that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with the protectiveness that burned in his chest.

His jaw tightened again, but he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, forcing himself to back down. “Fine,” he muttered, though the word sounded like it was dragged out of him.

The operation leader’s gaze lingered on Bucky for a moment longer before he turned back to the room. “Then it’s settled. Everyone knows their roles. We leave in three days. Dismissed.”

As chairs scraped and the room began to clear, Sam caught up to Bucky near the door. “So, what’s the plan now, guard dog? Gonna give her a tracking device or a leash?”

Bucky shot him a look that could kill. “Not now.”

Sam grinned, unbothered. “Just saying, man. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

Bucky ignored him, drifting his gaze to where she stood by the table, gathering her things. She glanced up, catching his eye, and offered a small, reassuring smile.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He might not be able to stay by her side during the mission, but one way or another, he’d make sure she came out of it safe. Even if it killed him.

----

They didn’t see each other again until they boarded the plane. She spotted him immediately, seated at the far side of the hold, inspecting one of his many weapons with mechanical precision.

Bucky was fully geared up, every inch of him screaming Winter Soldier in a way that made her chest tighten uncomfortably. His tactical suit, dark and imposing, seemed like it was made to swallow him whole, to erase every ounce of humanity she knew was there. Knives, pistols, ammo, -there were more weapons strapped to him than she thought possible-, and Sam, seated nearby, muttered under his breath as he caught sight of him.

“Jesus, Buck,” he quipped, leaning back in his seat with an incredulous look. “Where do you keep all that? Got a secret pocket dimension you haven’t told us about?”

Bucky didn’t answer. He didn’t even glance up, focused on the rifle in his hands as he loaded it with a meticulousness that bordered on obsession.

She hesitated before sitting down, diagonal to his, close enough to see the taut lines of his jaw and the cold set of his features. He was somewhere else entirely, locked inside his head in a way that made her stomach twist.

Her fingers tapped lightly on her knee as she debated. Eventually, she mustered the courage to try and break through the wall he had so obviously put up. “Bucky,” she started softly, testing the waters.

He didn’t look at her. “What?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he said curtly and dismissive.

She tried again, leaning forward slightly, lacing her tone with a touch of warmth this time. “You’ve been quiet since the briefing. I just... wanted to check in.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said flatly. He finally looked up, but it was brief, just a glance before he turned back to the rifle.

She bit the inside of her cheek, and the pang of melancholy deepened. He was shutting her out, retreating into himself in a way that felt impenetrable. She wanted to say something more, to push through the wall he’d built around himself, but every clipped answer was like a door slammed in her face.

Eventually, she leaned back in her seat, slumping her shoulders slightly. Sam, catching the shift in her demeanor, leaned over and nudged her gently. “You good?”

She gave him a tight smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just... tired.”

Sam didn’t press further, but his gaze flicked between her and Bucky, knitting his brows together in thought.

The hours of the flight passed in uncomfortable silence. She stopped trying to talk to Bucky, resigning herself to the fact that he wasn’t in a place to let her in. Instead, she found herself leaning on Sam, who kept the mood light with his casual banter and stories, though she knew he could see the strain on her face.

----

After 22 long hours of flight, the group finally arrived at Ushuaia, skipping any rest stops and heading straight to the location marked on the map as the Hydra facility. The biting -7°C temperature hit them the moment they stepped off the plane, but no one said a word. Adrenaline and focus were locked firmly on the upcoming assault.

As the team deployed, spreading out to take their positions, she adjusted the straps of her gear, ready to follow her assigned group, when she felt a hand wrap around her forearm, halting her steps.

It was Bucky.

Before she could say a word, he gently tugged her closer, his steel-blue eyes piercing through the dim light of the icy morning. Without hesitation, he dipped his head, resting his forehead lightly against hers. The gesture was intimate in a way that caught her completely off guard.

“Stay safe, doll,” he murmured, barely audible over the wind. His other hand slid to her lower back, a solid and steadying touch that sent warmth spreading through her chest despite the freezing air. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, it felt like time had paused around them.

Before she could respond, he pulled back, slipping his hand from her back as he released her. The touch lingered like an imprint on her skin, a phantom sensation she couldn’t shake.

He gave her a small, firm nod, and then turned, walking away to take his position. She stood frozen for a moment, her heart racing and her thoughts spinning in a blur. She didn’t notice the tiny tracker he’d deftly pressed onto the back of her jacket, concealed in one of the seams.

She exhaled deeply, shaking her head as she regrouped with her team. It was only after they began their cautious advance toward the Hydra’s den that she realized she hadn’t said anything back.

----

Bucky's moves were methodical and relentless, bordering on terrifying. His rifle barked sharp bursts of gunfire as his entry key. The initial resistance barely had time to register what hit them before he had breached their defenses with precise and purposeful shots, clearing the way with deadly efficiency. Once inside, the rifle was slung across his back, and he transitioned to pistols, twin bursts of fire that cut through the dimly lit hallways.

When a close-range ambush came at them, he didn’t falter. A knife was in his hand before the first attacker could barely move, and the blade moved in a blur as he parried, slashed, and dropped him in seconds. His other hand went for another approaching assailant, and the dull thud of his fist meeting flesh sickly reverberated down the hallway. The third guy went down with a savage elbow strike to the jaw, that sent the man crumpling against the wall.

The facility was a maze, and he navigated it with an almost preternatural awareness, dispatching any Hydra remnants that dared to cross his path.

Behind him, his team could barely keep up. “Does he even need us?” one of them muttered under their breath, clutching their assault gun tightly as they followed, watching Bucky tear through Hydra’s defenses like a one-man wrecking crew. They focused on providing cover and securing the areas he left in his wake, though it felt almost redundant.

He wasn’t reckless, he was purposeful. Every move was efficient, calculated like a finely tuned machine operating at full capacity. And beneath that precision, was a driving force, a singular thought that fueled him: finish this, finish it fast, get to her.

He turned a corner into a wider room where a group of agents had set up a defensive line. Their gunfire erupted the moment they saw him, but he was already moving. His body twisted as he sprinted toward them, weaving through the barrage with inhuman speed. A flash grenade from his belt bought him the split second he needed to close the distance. When the deafening pop and blinding light cleared, he was in the middle of their formation.

One went down with a knife to the gut, another with a pistol shot to the temple. The third tried to grapple him, only to be met with a swift blow from his vibranium arm that sent him sprawling. Bucky didn’t stop. His fists drove into ribs and jaws, his knives carving through the last line of resistance like it was nothing. Blood splattered onto the cold floors, and the once-deafening room fell silent except for his steady breathing.

The radio on his team leader crackled. “Barnes, status?”

“Clear,” he grunted, wiping the blade of his knife on his sleeve and sheathing it in one fluid motion. His team moved in behind him, sweeping the room as they murmured amongst themselves about the inhuman force of his assault.

He barely heard them. His mind was already elsewhere. His heart was pounding, not from exertion, but from the worry that ate away at him. The sooner his end of the mission was done, the sooner he could ensure she was safe.

----

As Bucky cleared the last room in his assigned sector, he took a final sweep, ensuring no hidden threats remained. The bodies left in his wake weren’t his concern, only the safety of his team, and more importantly, her. So he turned around and started walking away.

He moved like a shadow through the corridors, silent and methodical, operating on pure instinct. The tracker he’d slipped into her clothes pulsed steadily on his HUD, leading him through the labyrinth of sterile hallways and flickering overhead lights. Hydra never changed, their bases were practically carbon copies, and he used that to his advantage, cutting through shortcuts only an old ghost like him would know.

Gunfire crackled in the distance, shouts echoing through the steel walls, but none of it mattered to him.

He picked up the pace as he neared her location, tightening his grip around the pistol in his flesh hand, his vibranium fingers twitching in anticipation. Then, finally, he reached her sector.

The sight before him sent a cold fury ripping through his chest.

The fight was still ongoing and it was clear her team was barely holding on. Some were down, some wounded, and the rest were outnumbered. But Bucky’s eyes only locked onto one thing: the asset trying to restrain her.

She was struggling. He could see the way her limbs lagged just a second too slow, the way her stance wavered ever so slightly, she was exhausted. She’d burned herself out healing the others, and now they were trying to take her.

The bastard restraining her was big, armored, and clearly enhanced. Bucky already knew the type, one of Hydra’s modern knockoff attempts at recreating him. The man had his arm locked around her middle, wrestling to subdue her, while his other hand reached for a syringe strapped to his vest.

Bucky didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate.

His pistol fired once. Clean, direct. The bullet punched through the asset’s wrist, making him snarl and drop the syringe before he could use it.

Before the man could react, Bucky was already on him.

The Winter Soldier resurfaced with brutal efficiency. He grabbed the man by the vest and threw him off her like a ragdoll, sending him crashing into a nearby crate. The asset barely had time to groan before Bucky was on him again, landing a punishing strike to the ribs, then another to the jaw.

The bastard recovered quickly, swinging at Bucky’s head, but he dodged with ease, catching the incoming arm and twisting sharply. The asset howled, but Bucky silenced him with a savage punch that sent him sprawling.

Not enough. Not nearly enough.

He didn’t stop until the man stopped moving.

When he finally turned, he found her staring at him, breathing hard. Her hair was disheveled, her face marked with sweat and dirt, but she was alive.

Still his.

High on adrenaline, Bucky turned toward the dantesque scene unfolding around him. Her team was struggling, pinned down by the remaining opposition, outnumbered and exhausted.

So he moved.

The first man barely had time to register his presence before Bucky’s knife found his ribs, twisting with brutal precision. The second one lunged at him, and Bucky let him, sidestepping at the last second and slamming his elbow into the man's throat, crushing his windpipe. They kept coming but the room was cleared in minutes. Efficient. Lethal. Over.

His feet carried him forward before his brain even fully registered it, his hands reaching for her the second he was close enough. He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her tightly, his chest rising and falling against hers as he tried to steady himself.

His face found the crook of her neck, and he inhaled deeply, calming himself with her scent. She was real, she was safe.

She was trembling, whether from exhaustion or leftover adrenaline, he didn’t know. Didn’t care. He just held her tighter, curling his fingers into the fabric of her tactical gear, pressing her against him like he could shield her from everything.

He didn’t speak. He just held on, waiting for his heart to stop hammering, for the instinct to fight, to kill, to protect, to settle into something quieter.

He didn’t let go. Not yet. Not for a long while.

----

She let him hold on, basking in his unrelenting grip. But as the minutes stretched, something felt wrong in her chest, a creeping worry she couldn’t shake.

“Bucky,” she breathed against his ear, trying to pull back just enough to see his face.

He didn’t answer.

Her hands skimmed over his back, searching for wounds, for anything out of place. “Bucky, are you hurt? Let me see you.”

Nothing. No response. If anything, his arms locked tighter around her.

She leaned back slightly, shifting her hands to his face, ready to insist -look at me, talk to me- but then she saw it.

The empty stare. The idle, blank eyes she knew too well.

Her stomach dropped.

Her fingers threaded into his hair, gentle but firm. She inhaled deeply before trying. “Soldat?”

A barely-there shudder ran through his body. His grip twitched, tightening before loosening just the slightest bit.

She swallowed hard. She knew exactly where he was, adrift in the space between past and present, somewhere dark, somewhere cold. She cupped his face,  sweeping her thumbs over the sharp lines of his cheekbones. “Listen, everything is fine now. We are safe, you did good. You can rest.”

Her breath hitched as his grip slipped down and tightened around her thighs, and the world tilted violently as he hoisted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

“Soldat-” she started, but he moved with single-minded purpose, boots echoing heavily against the bloodstained floor as he strode down the corridor.

The others tried to move after them, with evident concern. “Stand down,” she called over her shoulder, her voice firmer than she felt. “Don’t- don’t interfere.” Because if they do…

They hesitated, but obeyed, exchanging wary glances as the two disappeared around a corner.

“Soldat,” she tried again. “Put me down. I’m fine. Where are we going?”

No answer. Not even a flicker of recognition. His grip remained firm, arms locked around her legs, his vibranium hand pressing against the small of her back to keep her steady.

The hallways blurred past in a dizzying, all-too-familiar pattern. He knew where he was going. Of course he did. Hydra never changed their layouts, never altered their twisted efficiency.

And then he stopped. A metal door loomed ahead, slightly ajar, the faded remnants of a red cross still painted on its surface.

The infirmary.

Before she could speak, he shoved the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. She staggered slightly as he set her down “What are you-“

But he wasn’t listening. Not really. He pressed his back against the door, sliding down until he sat on the cold floor with one bent knee and the other stretched out. His head tilted back against the cold metal with a dull thud, and his eyes flicked shut for just a second before snapping open again. His chest rose and fell in deep, measured breaths. His gaze landed unfocused somewhere in the distance.

She took a cautious step forward, lowering her voice. “Soldat?”

His fingers twitched.

The only thing she could think to do was play along. Her pulse hammered in her throat, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. First, she pressed a hand to her comm, switching to Sam’s channel. Keeping a steady voice, she whispered, “Sammy, I’m fine. My side of the facility is clear, but there’s… a complication with Bucky. My teammates will fill you in. Just don’t come looking for us. Please. I need you to make them understand.”

There was a long pause, before Sam’s voice finally came through the crackle of static, lower, graver than usual. “…You sure about this?”

Her gaze flicked back to Soldat, watching the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, coiled like a spring. She swallowed hard. “Yes. Let me handle it.”

Another pause. Then, a resigned sigh. “Alright. But if you need backup-”

“I’ll let you know.” She shut off the comm before he could argue, pushing the outside world aside.

----

She clasped her hands in front of her, standing straighter, adopting the crisp authority she’d seen Hydra’s handlers use a thousand times before.

“I need a mission report.”

His fingers twitched again. His gaze flickered -just slightly- but it stayed distant, unfocused, locked somewhere behind her rather than on her.

A long beat of silence.

Her stomach clenched.

She took another step closer. “Soldat,” she repeated, keeping her tone firm but even. “Mission report. Now.”

His jaw worked, and a slow inhale expanded his chest.

“…Facility neutralized.” The words came rough and automatic, like a reflex. His voice was lower than usual, mechanical, like the syllables were pulled from his throat against his will. “Threats eliminated.”

She swallowed. “And my status?”

His breath stuttered slightly. His fingers flexed, curling into loose fists before releasing.

“Secure,” he said after a pause.

She exhaled quietly, steadying herself.

Her mind raced for the next step. She couldn’t just order him out of this. She needed to guide him back. She took a slow breath, crouching down to his level, careful not to make any sudden movements. “Good,” she murmured. “So… mission’s over now, right?”

Another twitch. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

She hesitated, then reached forward, brushing featherily his vibranium knuckles. No sudden moves. No pressure. “Remember what happens when a mission is over? You let me check on you and I get you all better.”

He hesitated. His brows knitted together as though sifting through fragmented, conflicting commands buried deep in his mind. But then, after a long, tense beat, he gave a single, curt nod.

A breath she hadn’t realized she was holding slipped from her lips.

“You did good,” she said again, keeping a reassuring voice. “Go sit on the stretcher and let me see you.”

He stood immediately at her command, a well-oiled machine running on deeply ingrained instinct. With precise, practiced movements, he removed his rifle, his sidearm, and every knife tucked into his gear. Each weapon clattered softly onto the nearby tray, in a quiet, chilling symphony of steel.

Then, without hesitation, he stripped away his tactical vest, shrugging out of it like armor no longer needed. His Henley followed, baring his torso under the harsh, sterile light of the infirmary. His skin was streaked with sweat and blood. The deep, ugly wounds carved into him were the only indication that he wasn’t invincible.

He sat on the stretcher with squared shoulders and rested his hands on his thighs as he stared ahead. Silent. Waiting.

Her breath hitched when she saw the extent of the damage. Two large-caliber bullet wounds, one grazing his ribs, the other embedded deeper near his shoulder. A deep stab wound on his side, red and angry. The blood had slowed to a sluggish trickle, but the damage was undeniable.

She inhaled heavily, steeling herself, knowing she was running on fumes. She had drained so much of herself in the fight, trying to keep others alive, trying to be useful. But she couldn't stop now. Not when he was in front of her, hurt because of her.

Her hands hovered over the worst wound, shaking slightly before she forced them to steady. Focus. Do what you have to.

But as she pressed her glowing fingers to his skin, and the warmth of her power seeped into his body, another weight settled over her. Guilt.

He came here because of her.

He got hurt because of her.

And worst of all… his mind was slipping, because of her. Regressing into something she wasn’t sure she could pull him back from. She choked on a sob, and her vision blurred as she fought to keep her hands steady, mending his torn flesh.

The sound made his jaw tick, and something shifted in his expression. Slowly, he turned his head to her, knitting his brows together as he took in the sight of her tear-streaked face. His gaze flickered toward the door -searching, assessing-before settling back on her.

The hesitation flickered in his usually unwavering demeanor. Then, with a slow movement, he lifted his flesh hand and cupped her cheek.

“Why?” he rasped, his voice was rough, uncertain.

That made her sob harder, but she didn’t stop mending him. She leaned into his palm, pressing her cheek against the warmth of his hand as she sniffled, trying to regain control of herself.

“S-sorry,” she managed, her voice unsteady.

“You are always sorry,” he countered, in a neutral, almost observational tone.

Something about the way he said it made her pause. It rang a bell. The Soldat never spoke to her before. Not when they dragged him into the med bay, not when she pleaded with him to respond in those stolen moments of quiet, not when she whispered apologies he couldn’t acknowledge.

But this wasn’t Bucky either, not completely. This was a fractured version of him, a Soldat pulled from the depths of his mind, not the same hollow shell she remembered. He was speaking to her, processing things in a way he never had before. How much of him was in there? How much did he understand?

“It seems so,” she conceded, in barely above a whisper, more to herself than to him.

He studied her, tilting his head slightly, the way he used to when something puzzled him. “You should stop before the handlers come in here,” he said, not harshly, but matter-of-factly, as though it was the most natural conclusion.

Her heart clenched. His mind was caught in the past, in a time when her presence at his side had always been followed by pain, by orders, by unseen eyes watching their every move.

She forced a small, steady breath, keeping her hands moving as she knitted his skin back together. “There are no… handlers here,” she said softly, keeping her tone careful, controlled.

His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t argue. His thumb brushed absently over her cheek, like he was still trying to place her, to make sense of the moment.

She swallowed hard. “Do you know where you are?”

He blinked, and his eyes flickered toward the corners of the room as if searching for cameras, for listening ears. His jaw clenched, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter, like he was telling her a secret.

“I know I was sent to retrieve you,” he admitted. “You are the one who fixes me. Always do.” A pause. “You shouldn’t be talking to me. I know what happens to you every time you talk."

Her throat closed, and suddenly, it felt impossible to breathe. A sharp twist of nausea coiled in her stomach, memories slamming with brutal force. Her hands trembled slightly where they pressed against his wound. “No one is going to come,” she whispered.

His brow twitched. His head tilted slightly, and his eyes scanned hers, as if searching for something, truth, deception, an explanation that made sense in the fractured landscape of his mind.

“They always do,” he said again, quieter.

She swallowed hard and lifted a trembling hand, resting it lightly against his jaw. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips. “Not this time, radnój,” she murmured.

His breath stilled.

His flesh hand, still cradling her cheek, stiffened slightly before his grip loosened as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold on or let go.

The endearment shocked him. That word had never been meant for him. He had heard it before but never directed it at him. His fingers flexed uncertainly against her cheek. She always had spoken to him before -soothing words in hushed tones, quiet reassurances when no one was listening- but never this.

His brow creased, and his gaze searched hers as though trying to make sense of it. “You don’t-” The words caught on his lips, and he shook his head slightly. “You shouldn’t.”

She exhaled shakily, brushing her thumb over his jaw in soft defiance. “I do.”

A flicker of hesitation crossed his features. Soldat did not hesitate. But something about her -about this- was pulling him somewhere he didn’t understand.

“…Why?” he finally rasped, in a quiet, rougher tone.

His eyes searched hers, as a storm of confusion and something else swirled in them. His hand still hovered near her face, as if caught between instinct and reason.

“Did I overstep?” she deflected softly.

His gaze dropped, and the furrow between his brows deepened. “No,” he mumbled after a long pause, almost contemplative. “I just don’t… understand.” His brows drew together further, and his expression was caught somewhere between confusion and something deeper, something close to longing, buried under years of conditioning.

She took a slow breath, before carefully asking, "Is it okay to hug you?"

She and Bucky hugged a lot, usually with him being the one to start the embrace. But this man in front of her was not entirely him, not yet. And she wasn’t sure if Soldat would welcome such physical contact.

He blinked at her, and the hand in his thigh tightened briefly before loosening again. His brow creased in thought, like he was trying to decipher a foreign language. Hugging. That wasn’t something that belonged in his world. Contact had always been a means to an end: restraint, punishment, control. Not this.

She waited, patient and open, making no move to force it. Just offering.

Finally, after a long beat of silence, he gave the smallest nod.

Carefully, she leaned in, moving slowly, telegraphing every motion as she wrapped her arms around him. He tensed at first, but she didn’t pull away. She just held on, warm and calm, resting her cheek lightly in the top of his head.

His breath shuddered out of him, and after another beat of hesitation, his metal arm came up around her. Not crushing, not desperate, just holding her.

It was different from Bucky’s embraces. Bucky clung, seeking comfort he didn’t know how to ask for. But Soldat? This was uncharted ground. He wasn’t seeking, he was discovering. Testing the weight of the contact. Trying to understand why something so simple could feel so foreign.

She squeezed him just a little, in silent reassurance. “See?” she murmured. “Safe.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t let go either.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in silence. She felt his chest rise and fall in measured breaths, as if he was trying to calibrate the sensation of being held. His fingers twitched slightly where they rested against her back, flexing as if testing their own freedom to move.

She exhaled softly, rubbing slow, deliberate circles against his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, so much of it, always there, always braced for the next order. But no command came this time. No mission awaited.

“You can let go if you want,” she whispered, though she made no move to pull away. “But you don’t have to.”

His grip tightened, just barely. A silent answer.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly, just enough for his forehead to ghost against her temple. The breath he released was deep and measured, like he was recalibrating himself against her presence.

She closed her eyes. This was Bucky, somewhere underneath, even if his mind was still tangled in old wires. And if she had to be his tether back to himself, she would be.

“I’m here,” she murmured, not expecting a response.

But after a moment, barely audible, he rasped, “…I know.”

She leaned in just a fraction more, tilting her head so their foreheads pressed together, brushing her nose against his. A barely-there touch, light as a whisper. He was so still, caught somewhere between the past and the present, between instinct and something softer. His vibranium hand flexed at her waist. She whispered his name. Not Soldat, not a title, just his name. A soft reminder. His grip on her tightened, slightly curling his fingers into the fabric of her clothes. His breath became uneven and shallow. “I know,” he murmured again, in a rough, almost pained tone. He didn’t let go. And neither did she.

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, wide and uncertain. The flickering light overhead cast shadows over his face, deepening the exhaustion etched into his features.

“I need to keep taking care of those wounds, hm?” she murmured softly, gentle as the touch she brushed along his back.

“Later,” he rasped, slightly tightening his grip at her waist.

She sighed softly, ghosting her fingers over his temple, pushing back a stray strand of hair. “I know you’re in pain, just-“

“And you’re drained,” he cut her off, tightening his jaw. His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Always… drained. Always crying. Always good. Even if I don’t deserve it.”

There he was again, stuck in the past, tangled in guilt and old wounds that refused to close.

Her heart clenched, but she didn’t let go. Didn’t move away. Instead, she cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb just beneath his eye.

“You deserve kindness,” she said firmly. “You always have.”

He turned his face slightly into her palm, as if hiding from the weight of her words. “…I don’t believe that,” he admitted.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, tightening her fingers against his skin. “Then let me believe it for you.”

Slowly, cautiously, she leaned in.

His breath hitched and his fingers flexed against her back, but he didn’t move away. Didn’t stop her.

She hesitated just before closing the distance, stopping her lips a whisper away from his. A silent offering, not a demand. He could pull back. He could reject it.

But he didn’t.

His grip on her tightened ever so slightly, barely perceptible, but she felt it, the smallest tug, a subconscious need.

So she closed the gap.

The first touch of her lips against his was featherlight, hesitant. The kind of kiss given when neither person was sure if they were allowed to have it. When the past weighed too heavy, when the present was too fragile.

He stiffened at first, as if his body didn’t know what to do with the warmth, real warmth. The softness of her lips against his, the tentative press of her fingers against his cheek, all of it felt foreign, too delicate for someone like him. But then, something in him cracked. His fingers curled against the fabric at her back, then tightening his grip and for a second -just one second- he leaned into it.

Then a sharp inhale. A shudder. His grip twitched, his body went rigid again, and she felt it, felt the exact moment the weight of too much history, too much instinct, too much them came crashing down.

She pulled back immediately, searching his face. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, his breath shallow. His lips parted, as if trying to form words but finding none.

She gently stroke her thumb along his cheekbone. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re okay.”

His throat bobbed, and his fingers ghosted at her waist, barely touching, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. His gaze flicked down, lingering on her lips for the briefest moment before darting back up to her eyes.

Then, barely above a whisper, rough and unsure-

“…Again?”

A request. A plea. A fractured man grasping at something good, something warm, something he never thought he could have.

She smiled softly, before leaning in once more, giving him exactly what he asked for.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @sunshinedayz19 @star-maker-rain-dancer @tumdlrnewb84 @mgchaser @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger @gotminho @kaitlin013106 @startorrent @idontknowhowtonormal @mattmurdock42 @hnnhbananananana @aeriss-at-heart45 @jainaeatsstars @airixaram @seventeen-x @jaxz21 @zizzlekwum @hi172826 @valckenaux @moth-maam56 @myllamatimemachine @unaxv @smiithys @cats-chaotic-mind @melsunshine @neuviloved @cjand10 @frombkjar @strvnger3ditz @nikkinss @alexandra-001 @lavanderbreeze @cats-chaotic-mind @sleep-tight1 @lasrehsif @delicatepersondinossaur @bodhisattva11 @isepod @mrsnikstan @impoeticbeauty @beewilko @chinggay85-blog

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[astraeus-tree]

Chapter 3

『The Dark Sea Gets Deeper As You Approach』

Disparities Between Our Souls You're forced to make some decisions you'd rather not do and have a bittersweet goodbye with your aunt Disclaimer(s): N/A

Chapter 2 <- Chapter 3 -> Chapter 4

The silence of the comms held countless unspoken words that piled up over the years you were gone. It was finally interrupted by Cass’s voice.

“As in our [Name?]” Her voice was full of disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Where are you. Damian could hear the urge and hope in her voice through the comms.

“I’m on a rooftop near their aunt’s house. They’ve just gone in with the other supposed-hero and the rogue.”

Finally, Damian heard the sound of Dick’s voice through the comms. “Robin, stay there and follow them if they go out. I’ll come over after dealing with some stuff in Bludhaven. Oracle, alert B when he comes back from his mission with the JL.”

“Copy.” Both Damian and Barbara replied.

“I’m coming over Robin.” Cass spoke up again, determination laced in her voice.

“Red Robin.” Dick called out.

“Yes?” Tim’s voice sounded surprised, like he had been lost in thought.

“You’re in charge of finding any information about [Name] and their partner.”

“On it.”

Throughout the whole conversation, many members of the group stayed quiet. Amongst these people was Jason Todd.

Jason had many regrets, more than he could count. Yet, one his biggest ones was his relationship with you. When you had gone missing, Jason was devastated. He was forced to confront his feelings. Forced to realise how his actions had caused you more harm than protect you, like he intended.

Those who had the misfortune of going against him the first few of your disappearance had instantly regretted it, but they did not have the pleasure of being granted mercy by the crime lord.

He thought he had finally accepted this outcome—you were gone, never to be found and you two would never have the chance to reconcile. This surprise turn of events had disrupted this mindset of his.

Jason didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, he finally had another opportunity to reconnect with you. On the other, he didn’t know how to go with his new-found chance. Clearly, you were not the same person you once were. Not the old [Name] who didn’t have any fighting knowledge. It almost made Jason laugh at how similar you and him were, but this wasn’t the time for that. He had a decision to make, to got or to not, and he had to make it quick.

The three of you of you had been at this for what seemed like hours at this point.

With such little tools and no idea why they were even broken in the first place, no progress had been made in fixing the gizmos. At times like this, you wished you were half as resourceful as Hobie Brown, but unfortunately, neither you, Miguel or you aunt were.

With it still being the middle of the night, you decided it was best for your aunt to get some rest. You did eventually persuade your aunt to go to rest, but not without some reluctance and white lies that you’d also go to sleep soon.

It was now only you and Miguel—excluding the anomaly— in the living room of your aunt’s. The silence made you uneasy, like something would pop out of the dark corners and scare you. With your adrenaline finally coming down from its high, you were left to deal with the overwhelming emotions that it left in its wake.

Mentally, you recounted the events that had occurred in just the past few hours; firstly, you were unexpectedly dropped into your home universe with no way to return to where you were before. Then, you and Miguel find an anomaly. You were ready to open the can of worms this knowledge came with so you moved on. Finally, you met your aunt after not being able to see her for 5 years, a seemingly invisible force stopping you every time you had attempted before.

So many emotions coursed through you that you honestly didn’t know how to feel.

Another problem to add to your pile was your family. You knew it was inevitable for your family to find out about you and your new identity, in fact, they probably already knew you were here, but you just weren’t ready to face them. Your habit of avoiding confrontation was always weakness of yours.

You wanted to stay away from them as much as you could. It wasn’t that you hated them, it was just that you grew to live a life without them and had almost completely forgotten what it was like to be with them and you wanted it to stay that way.

You decided to focus your thoughts back to the gizmo. This was your priority, not avoiding your family. You needed these gizmos working, stat. You and your husband had a HQ to run and an anomaly to send back to its universe.

Speaking of the HQ, hopefully it was doing alright without its leader. “Miguel, do you think the HQ is doing well?”

He nods. “Lyla’s most likely already informed the others of our disappearance. She can handle most of my responsibilities, and those that she can’t will be handled by Spiderwoman and, regrettably, spiderman.” You sighed, you knew you could trust Lyla and Jess with those responsibilities. Peter, maybe not as much, but hopefully the others will keep him in line. “Our main concern right now is to get our gizmos working again so the anomaly can be sent back.”

You felt defeated. All you had was a lack of new discoveries, useless tools and broken gizmos in your hands. Your train of though was interrupted by a familiar sound—distortion, like that of a TV. You swung your head towards the anomaly and then back to Miguel.

Shit.

You had forgotten about the glitching. You knew it was there but with so much happening, you were too busy to even remember that detail. Glitching was a painful experience, and as much as you didn’t like Doc Ock in any universe, you didn’t wish the pain of glitching upon them.

You really were on a time crunch now, unless you found a way to temporarily stop the glitching. Wait.

You did have one, and it was wrapped around your wrist right now; your gizmo. Although the portals weren’t working, you knew it still at least stopped the glitching. After all, your husband was standing perfectly fine with no glitches. As for you, this was your universe, you wouldn’t glitch at all as a native to the world.

“Should I give him my gizmo?” You stared down at the Doc Ock as you asked Miguel. His brows furrowed almost instantly at your words.

“I’m sorry? Did I hear that right mi vida?” Miguel was flabbergasted, in full doubt of your words.

“I mean, the portals aren’t working, communications are down, we’re in my universe and he’s glitching. I feel like the pros outweigh the cons right now.” You reasoned with not only him, but also yourself. You could see that Miguel was genuinely thinking through this plan of yours. You knew it was risky, but with the two main risks not working, you felt it would be fine.

Apparently, so did Miguel, as he nodded not even a minute later. “Alright.”

You took the watch off your wrist as you walked over to the Doc Ock and strapped it around his. “This’ll stop the glitching for now. Once we get back to the HQ where we can transport you back to your universe, I’ll take it back.” You spoke softly to him.

Although he couldn’t move due to Miguel’s paralysing venom, you could see his eyes light up and you took that as a thank you sign. You nodded at him before standing up again and facing your husband. “We really need to get back home soon.”

“Agreed, but we don’t have the right tools in reach to do that.” You both sighed and stayed quiet for a few seconds, letting each other try to come up with solutions. “Do you think we could go to your-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” You glared at him.

“It’s really our only option right now, corazón. Unless we suddenly had money, our only other choice is to steal. They’ll be able to help us, they’re your world’s greatest detectives, are they not?” Damn it, why did Miguel have to make such a compelling argument.

“I don’t want to talk to them though.” You saw Miguel’s demeanour soften at your mumbled words.

“I know mi corazón, but let’s think about it this way. They’ll be able to help us finish what we need to faster, and after we leave, you won’t ever have to talk with them again. Don’t you want at least some closure as well? How they felt about your disappearance?” You stayed quiet, biting your nails. Your mind was in a war with itself right now. “I’m sure they’ll be relieved to see you alive and well.”

“I hate how you’re probably right.” You slump in defeat, placing your head on his shoulders. You felt his arms wrap around you, comforting in every way and you melted into his embrace.

“I’ll be by your side the whole time. You don’t need to be worried about anything.” You clung to him tighter.

“Thank you my love. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You mumbled, words even more muffled by that fact that your head was still leaning on his shoulders.

“Yo también te amo.” You smiled at the familiar phrase.

…..

The sunrise came far quicker than you liked it to. With it came a new day with tasks you had to fulfil. One of which was the bittersweet goodbye with your aunt.

You waited anxiously for her to wake up. As you did, you walked around the house, nostalgia heavy. You stopped at the entrance of your bedroom.

Your room looked like it had remained untouched throughout the years. You remembered when you were younger, this room—the whole house, actually— was a lot more ruined, with paint peeling and bugs crawling everywhere. As much as you didn’t like Bruce, you were thankful that his money was able to grant your aunt with better living conditions.

You head a familiar pattern of footsteps approaching your room.

“Do you miss it?” Your aunt asked, voice soft.

“I do. I always miss when it was just us two.”

“Me too.” You stayed silent, it felt like she wanted to say more and you were right about that. “When you first disappeared, I was devastated, you know? I would sleep in your bed, letting my tears dry there. I was too scared to touch anything else in this room. This was all I had left of you.”

She put her hand on your shoulder, and suddenly, it felt like you were a little kid again, afraid of what the big world had in store for you. “I know you’re leaving today. Don’t worry about me darling. I know you’re alive and happy and that’s all I’ll ever need.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. She turned you around to face her and cupped your face. “Don’t cry. I’ll always be here whenever you need me.”

You held her hands gently. “I promise to have back to you auntie. I’ll find a way.” You were filled with determination. Once you made it back to the HQ, you would do everything in your power to find a way to visit your aunt without some random rogue portal.

“I’ll be here waiting for as long as that will take.” You smiled at her and she returned it. It hurt you to break apart, but you knew you eventually had to.

You walked to the living room, where your husband was and nodded at him. He stood up, understanding the message. He easily picked up the anomaly and headed towards the front door. You slowly followed, reluctant to leave this place once again, but you pushed yourself.

You turned around to see her one more time before leaving. “We’ll be going now auntie. I’ll see you again.”

“Be careful out there darling.” You smiled and nodded before walking to Miguel who was waiting outside the door. You took a deep breath and stepped outside.

Taglist (open)

@kik1010 @cxcilla @00hellohello00 @bluepanda08 @frankie-moon3 @guyfuitty @lumi320 @type-ink @kye-chen-r @sugasweettea @sillyheartmoonnyx @definitely-not-sammie @birbtweettweet @itsberrydreemurstuff @bellethesleepypotato @yaoizee @bat1212 @mybones537 @cim0nnin @ninihrtss @redkarmakai @a-lurking-fae @1abi @lettucel0ver @leeiasure @chericia @yotokx @amber-content @oscarissac2099 @awawage @k-anaru

I'm sorry for another late chapter guys 😭

This chapter gave me a lot of trouble, I can't lie. I started getting writer's block and then I started hating my writing so that was fun

I'm also starting to regret starting this story without a proper plot so we'll see how that goes lmao

Also, most of Batfam finally makes their appearance, yippee!!

Anyways, I watched AOT: The Last Attack in the cinema yesterday and oml I was sobbing the whole way through. I won't spoil anything just in case some of ya'll watch it but it was just so sad

As usual, mistakes are free to point out! They will be fixed as soon as possible

This week's song comes from the English translation of Black Sorrow from Alien Stage

Have a great day/night everyone! <3

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

I was wondering if you could do a batfam x isekaid neglected fem reader. I only read one so far and I NEED more 😔👉👈

I love this ask !! Been wanting to write one :D

summary :reader comes from a post - apolyptic world where mankind was wiped out due to nuclear warfare and deadly disease . suddenly she is awaken in a world where humanity is thriving yet this weird family behaves so strangely toward her??

I coughed my lungs out - it's been exactly 498 days since my lungs have tasted oxygen . My restless body trudge on - I keep moving - keep moving despite the sore blisters on my feet that pulse and bleed with every step I take.

I don't know where I am - I don't even know if there's anywhere to go anymore - all there is is ash and yellowish fog that cover the land as far as the eye can see. I groan - throwing up bile - I grimaced as my body wasted water so unnecessary .

I was like an ordinary kid - I went to school and came home one day to a news reporter saying there was no school for two weeks - I was so blissful - no more tests for me ! Oh how much I wish to go back - those two weeks were the dawn of a nightmarish hell.

A sudden infection began spreading rapidly on a international scaling and due to poor government decisions - it continued developing , our population began depleting and there was no cure left .

Governments argued back and forth , the people rioting, and sooner than later, the world we knew fell apart . Suddenly there was no more electricity, no more running water and few surviors began to worry.

I remember vividly - ma and pa hugging me before departing with the elders to the nearest cell tower miles away in an attempt to reconnect with humanity. It was on that God awful day - I witnessed a giant flare descend into the blue skies of Alaska and touched down onto the distant cell tower with a loud explosion .

The explosion engulfed everything in its fuery, and what it hadn't burnt it had blown away and covered the skies in a perment yellow fog.I remember screaming , crying out their names helplessly I waited at that abandoned shelter for months - naively awaiting their arrival, but they never came.

Helpless , I was forced to move on without them . Now, as I trudge through ash and fog , I feel my legs give away beneath me, and I feel myself come crashing down onto the ashy floor . I choke and helplessly bang against the ground as a war cry escaped me .

No ! NO - I refuse to end it like this - I refuse to go like this - not when I haven't figured out what happened to my ma and pa - not now . I feel my lungs closing in on me as if someone has grown tired of this chapter and decided to cut the story shut.

I greedily inhaled like a drowning man , my lungs give way, and it's then my eyes flutter close for the last time.

Name awakes - her eyes met by blinding light . Immediately, she closes her eyes - her head throbs in retaliation, and she groans as she curls herself into a fetous position - a pathetic attempt to shield herself.

A long sullen moment passes before name finally grasps the situation she is in - she is alive - when she shouldn't have been . She jolts from the bed - eyes frantically as she intakes her surroundings. Her room is a luscious rich blue - it has dark oak furniture that definitely screams money .

This is not her room - not even remotely - she distinctly remembers her old room having soft pink walls filled with posters of all her nerdy things but here - this room is too dull - to void of anyone living in it.

A knock is heard on the door and name watches in horror as the knob turns , the door opens to reveal an elder male in a tux ? Name is taken aback - exactly where is she ?.

"Master Name, you missed breakfast, so I brought it for you " . Name tilts her head in confusion . Why would anyone miss food ? Food is something sarce and critical- it's precious and it's not meant to be wasted - whoever body this is surely was stupid.

Name nods her head . " Thank you ...." She trails off, realizing she doesn't know who he is whatsoever. The elderly man raises an eyebrow at her , " Alfred madam," he finishes. Name nods - taking that name to memory . " Thank you Mister Alfred," she thanks as she graciously accepts the food. Alfred excuses himself - leaving her to her own devices .

Name hops off her poster bed and waddled her way to the nearest window and sure enough the outside world looks that of her own before the incident - before life ficked everyone over and took ma and pa away from her.

Silent tears roll down her face , hands scrunched against the window sill tightly- she swore she would reunite with them no matter what. After staring into the neighboring houses for a long minute , name returns to her bed and shovels the scrambled eggs in her mouth.

Name no longer questions if her food is poison, slat on or cursed - after all food is food - it is a blessed and sacred resource that she will happily indulge in. Moments pass before her door is barge open again - this time so loud it collides with the door harshly, almost snapoingbit in half.

An angry child ? She assumes storms up to her , face red . " Name how dare you skip out on breakfast do you think k of yourself above us all ?" The child accuses her , pointing his sword at her.

Name immediately kicks him , square in the chest - sending the boy clashing into the expensive hairdresser . Name states at him and then her foot eye wide - it's only natural her body reacts that way - it's how any wounded animal would if threaten .

So why does this bratty child look so disturbed ? Suprised ? The child begins screaming his head off and another adult walks in and embraces him. Name feels herself choke up - how can anyone possibly get so close to another without risking catching the disease ?

Name holds her stance - clearly, these people are psychos and have no regard to anyone’s safety . " Name how dare you kick him he's just a child" the adult ? Starts berating you but you held your fork in front of you - tightening your grasps around it .

"Leave or I will impale you with this" name threatens darkly - leaving no room for hesitancy - only confirmation of their damnation if they dared to cross her . The adult states in her eye wide and opens his mouth, but you are quicker . You swiftly leaped from your bed and launched the fork at the adult full speed , ensuring you rolled the opposite way .

The adult barely dodges. " Name what the fuck-" They curse but you were already out the door. You had to get away from these psychos they're too loose - they're too idiotic.

Name is halfway out a door when a much older man grabs her by the shoulder and spins her around . Name stares at him - all she feels is the dread building inside her akin to the time the dread she felt when she witnessed her parents' demise. Whoever it is grabs her by the shoulders harshly and puts his face in front of hers - immediately making her feel small . The elderly man glares at her before demanding her , " Name exactly what do you think you're doing ?"

please like + share + comment !!!

sorry if this is short this was written at 1 am

[wendichester]

Hear me out

Soft smut with Sam for the first time since reader gave birth to their baby

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ baby momma,

summary. the first time in a while ୨ৎ

pairing. sam winchester x mommy!reader

wordcount. 524

notes. i wanted to bang my head against a wall, because sam is so precious. i can't for the life of me ever stop loving this man

The house is quiet, save for the faint hum of the baby monitor on the nightstand. Your little one has finally fallen asleep after a long day, and the peace of the evening feels like a balm to your soul. You stretch out on the bed, exhaustion pulling at you, but it’s a good kind of tired—the kind that comes from love and care.

Sam steps into the room, his tall frame silhouetted by the soft glow of the hallway light. He’s already in sweats and a plain t-shirt, his hair slightly tousled. There’s something about the way he looks at you that makes your breath catch—a mixture of love, admiration, and a spark of something deeper.

“You’re still awake?” he asks softly, sliding into bed beside you.

“Barely,” you admit with a small laugh, turning to face him.

His hand reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is gentle, reverent, as though he’s afraid to disturb the fragile calm of the moment. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, though his words make your cheeks flush. “I’m just doing what any mom would.”

“No,” he counters, his voice firm but tender. “You’re doing so much. Taking care of her, taking care of me… You’re incredible.”

You look away, embarrassed, but Sam tilts your chin back toward him, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. “I mean it,” he says softly.

The sincerity in his voice melts something inside you, and before you can second-guess yourself, you lean forward, pressing your lips to his. The kiss starts slow, sweet, but there’s a quiet intensity behind it, a hunger that’s been simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

Sam’s hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer. “Are you sure?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and full of unspoken questions.

You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I’m sure.”

His lips find yours again, deeper this time, as his hands trace gentle patterns along your sides. He’s careful, as though he’s hyper-aware of your body’s changes, but you tug him closer, reassuring him without words.

“Sam,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as his kisses trail down your neck.

He pauses, looking up at you with those soulful eyes. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he says softly.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions flooding through you.

The rest of the world fades away as he moves with you, every touch and kiss filled with love and reverence. He takes his time, his focus entirely on you, as though nothing else exists.

It’s not just about physical closeness—it’s about reconnecting, about rediscovering each other in this new chapter of your lives. And when you finally collapse into his arms, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room, you feel a sense of peace that goes beyond words.

Sam presses a soft kiss to your temple, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

“I love you too,” you reply, your head resting against his chest as sleep begins to pull you under.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume

[class1akids]

"I like food"

I saw many posts people saying how random Shouto's line is about praying at Touya's altar and realizing that he likes food - and I wanted to point to how it helps wrapping up his arc.

Shouto is saying: "When I was praying at Touya's butsudan (Buddhist altar), I suddenly realized something, I liked eating food. I realized there's more to me than just the person I want to become."

Food was a "negative space in the Todoroki family, so liking food was not evident to Shoto growing up.

In Shouto's flashbacks with his family, we never see him eat food. His only memory tied to the kitchen is the kettle incident. We know from Natsuo that Shouto ate alone, a diet prescribed by Endeavor, no doubt all geared towards maximum performance, rather than enjoyment. Not even knowing your siblings favorite food is the ultimate symbol of how dysfunctional the household was.

2. Food was a positive space in Class A - tied to comfort, bonding, friendship

In class A, Shouto starts eating with Iida and Midoriya after the Stain incident. Food becomes comfort, connection, sharing, caring, teamwork, etc. He experiences things like using his fire to prepare food together, eating together, cleaning up.

Many memorable Shouto-scenes are tied to Class A eating together (e.g. heroes cry too) and he connects to Inasa over a discussion about favorite foods (udon vs soba) which is a theme that carries over to his endgame with Touya

3. As the Todoroki family tries to reconnect, food plays a central role

As the family changes, they attempt to reconnect around the family dinner table (the famous sluuurp scenes). But Todoroki dinners end in a disaster - still they are useful bringing to the surface important conflicts and trying to communicate about them (another important theme discussed in Shoto Rising).

There is more in the light novels: Shoto's and Rei's decade late reconnection as Rei offers him a little kid strawberry milk that she remembers he liked when he was 5, and their attempt to connect with Natsuo ending up in a mush of ruined soba - it's all out of sync.

4. Food as a symbol of lost time and broken futures

Food is also very central for the hopes of a happier future: Enji's dream of his family at the dinner table, Natsuo's regret about years of missed meals, Shoto wanting to share noodles with Toya, all culminating in the heartbreaking realization that they have the same favorite food they'll never get to share.

5. Food as a symbol of processing grief and healing

Praying at the butsudan (the Buddhist altar at home set up for a deceased loved one) involves the preparation of offerings of food and drinks, which then the family eats afterwards. We see this practice referenced in Ch 249 when Enji prays at Toya's altar.

So Shouto making a reference to it is a shorthand for telling us that Touya died at some point, Shouto is still grieving him and just like Deku and Ochako, he's trying to make sense for himself out of their short encounter. So wanting to learn how to make chopsticks and bowls (a traditional Japanese craft of woodwork and applying lacquer, often involving intricate patterns) implies that he wants to bring Touya the perfect offering, but also that he's finally stepping outside fully of the framework Endeavor created for the family, where children are cast into roles of heroes, villains and by-standers, masterpieces and failures but never human beings. He's thinking about what connects him and Touya together and who they would have been in a different story.

6. Shouto's personal arc

Shouto's character was always about balance. Balance between past and future, ice and fire, duty and family, etc. So crafting chopsticks and bowls to elevate good food connects the grief and survival guilt with healing and growth. It is both a tribute to Touya's memory and a new possible hobby to express still undiscovered sides of himself.

It fits the theme of the chapter "More" - as it focuses on what lies beyond being a hero, reaching a goal, working hard and how Izuku, Ochako and Shouto have been transformed by their experiences of trying to save their villains.

But it also fits Shouto's personal arc that was about discovering who Shouto really is. Earlier in the chapter, Shouto refers to being constrained into the framework of a bigger story, where his choices are bound to happen. As a hero of the sidestory of that manga, Shouto has no choice but decide what kind of a hero he wants to be (not-Endeavor, like All Might, reassuring, family hero). Encounters with his family helped crystallized this image of himself.

But now that he's being released from this story, he can look outside of the framework of a hero manga and discover those "more sides than just a hero". And Touya was the last encounter - the last piece of that puzzle. I think there is a parallel in how Tomura destroyed much of hero society - Touya also destroyed the foundations of the Todoroki family, so something different can maybe built.

Without Touya, I think the family would have kept at trying to piece themselves together in a tense, fake kind of peace to keep up appearances. If nothing else, Touya's actions tore through that need of saving face - leaving them all exposed and grappling with the harsh realities of their actions. But I think it also allowed the younger siblings to step outside the cage their parents created for them and build things better from scratch. It allows them to find more sides to themselves outside of the logic of the Todoroki household.

[rika-mmendmethings]

Interdimensional Epiphany l Rafayel

CHAPTER 2

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Summary: A fortnight of compensated leave from your company was supposed to be a rejuvenating experience. Things take an unexpected turn when Rafayel, your choice of ML, starts becoming self-aware. His love knows no bounds, not even interdimensional ones.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. For the prologue, currently none. Though story has major character deaths, subdued manipulation, heavy angst with a happy(?) ending, slight yandere themes, fluff, did I mention angst? (I'm so bad at tagging send help)

Word count: 2.0k

Playlist coming soon.

Notes: As promised, chapter 2 is released on Wednesday and you can expect every new chapter every Wednesday. Keep in mind, that as cute and a total man-child Rafayel is; he can also be vengeful and undeterred from what we've seen in his anecdotes. If you feel that this is too serious for him, then you simply need a better understanding of the red-flag side of Rafayel shown in some parts of the game. This story circles partially around that side of his as well, so I don't feel it should be that much uncharacteristic. Mikayla is the name of the mc in this fic and aside from Rafayel no-one else is aware of being a video game character. Anyways, hopefully you enjoy the read and stay tuned for the series. Lmk if you wish to be added to the tag list for this. ♥

Taglist: @loveanddeephistory @lyssandraxo @micasosa34 @ittybittyfanblog @hyein21 @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @blessdunrest @altair718 @3fg7 @froleineeeee @mikachux3 @aiehtta

You were thoroughly enjoying the first week of your compensated leave. You spent an entire day sleeping, waking only for a few hours to eat and freshen up before drifting back into restful slumber. After weeks of relying on takeout and fried foods, you finally went grocery shopping. You reconnected with a few friends, had meaningful conversations with your parents, and allowed yourself to indulge in a long, relaxing skincare routine. Your headspace was beginning to feel clear and at ease.

You even treated yourself to foam roller workouts, easing the tension in your sore muscles. You’d start a session with Rafayel in Quality Time, and for the next thirty minutes, your focus would be entirely on stretching and relaxing. It was the perfect way to unwind and restore balance to both your body and mind.

Rafayel found himself pausing every now and then and it wasn’t even because of the programming, he had long broken out of that. He never particularly enjoyed exercising on land anyway because it made him all sticky and gross but he sure as hell liked you exercising. He would pedal mindlessly on the gym bike, dusky eyes trained on you as you rolled the foam roller up and down the length of your hamstrings. He felt like a Victorian man seeing ankles whenever your shirt rolled up slightly and he would see a sliver of your waist. He banged his head on the handle of the bike, ears red as the soft, blissful sounds of your relief filled the room, signaling that most of your muscle tension had been eased.

When you grabbed your phone after the 30 minutes had passed, you were completely rejuvenated, and Rafayel was far from it. You tied your hair into a ponytail, and Rafayel drank in the sight of you — a pink scrunchie perched between your lips, beads of sweat trailing from your forehead down your collarbone and disappearing wholly after reaching your cleavage. He was accustomed to adjusting his footing every so often due to his Lemurian nature, but now, he found himself losing his balance for an entirely different reason. And it wasn’t just because of the gorgeous woman before him. No. Yes.

After freshening up following your workout, you grabbed a bag of chips and made your way to your bedroom, practically melting into the satin sheets as soon as your back hit the mattress. With no plans to leave the house today, you decided to spend a few hours indulging in your favorite game. You had even charged your phone in advance for this moment. Logging back in, you claimed the rewards from your daily tasks. Rafayel was sitting in the Destiny Café, casually inspecting his nails.

You went to change the lead character on your screen to Sylus, but a bug prevented you from doing so. Every time you clicked on his character, the game’s main interface reappeared, with Rafayel still sitting in the chair. Frustrated, you tried selecting Zayne instead, but you were met with the same result — the now agitated, purple-haired man.

He tapped his foot impatiently, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a frown. It almost seemed like he was annoyed by something. You dismissed it as something characteristic of him and muttered with a smile, “What? Only want me for yourself?”

“Yes.”

His tone carried a sense of finality, and once again, his words didn’t appear in the usual white speech bubble, as they always did. This unexpected shift left you momentarily stunned. Was it the strange behavior of his character, or was it the flutter in your chest that unsettled you? You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t want to delve into how delusional you might be getting. So, like you often did with your past, you ignored the problem and clicked over to the memories tab.

Earlier, you’d purchased the "Poised Elegance" outfit from the lunar shop and were excited to dress up Sylus’ Goodcat Code memory using Illusio.

The moment you pressed the button, the screen went black. You waited a few seconds, tapping on the screen, but nothing happened. Just as you were about to check your internet connection, the interface of Destiny Café reappeared. You huffed in disbelief and tried using Illusio on the other characters, but aside from Rafayel, the game would reboot every time. 

Already frustrated by the situation, you decided to pull for Caleb’s myth using the 20 free wishes. You nearly dropped your phone in disbelief as you saw that all ten cards were Rafayel’s four stars and three stars. This had never happened before. Sure, you’d occasionally pull two or three additional cards of a specific lead, but all ten cards being from one character, out of five possible options, was nothing short of perplexing. You gulped, using the remaining 10 wishes as well, and your soul almost left your body as you stared, wide-eyed, at the new set of 10 cards — every single one of them a 5-star and all of them Rafayel’s.

Just last week, during Rafayel’s "When Tides Echo" myth rerun, you had spent every last one of your dias and still hadn’t pulled a single memory of the pair. And now, all ten cards from that myth were what you had managed to get. You couldn’t believe it. You had seen players joking about miracles like this in the candle circle memes, wishing for such luck to happen to them, and now here you were, pulling for Caleb — and getting Rafayel.

You were many things, but ungrateful wasn’t one of them. So, you immediately rushed to the memories tab and ranked up his myth cards before awakening them. Once you were done, you found yourself back in Destiny Café, facing Rafayel. You finally let out the squeal you had been holding in and pressed a kiss to your screen. Rafayel’s ears turned red once again, and his lips curled into a gentle, sincere smile at the sight of your infectious joy.

“I love you so much, Infold,” you chirped, and Rafayel’s smile faltered. He should’ve been the one that line was addressed to. 

You logged out of the game, humming to yourself as you went over to your kitchen to prepare a celebratory dinner of some good ol’ spaghetti, leaving a spluttering Rafayel stuck in his spot at the Café. 

"Rafayel, I'm not letting you go first on the claw machine this time." Mikayla flashed him a playful wag of her finger, signaling that she wouldn’t be giving in to him today. She practically bounced over to the machine, her hands hovering over the buttons.

Rafayel, however, was leaning lazily against a wall, his dusky eyes focused on his nails rather than the bubbly woman in front of him. He replied, "Sure, MC. I’m not in the mood anyway."

Mikayla paused, glancing back at him over her shoulder with a raised brow. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she wiggled her eyebrows. "What? No ‘miss bodyguard’ or ‘cutie’ this time? You wound me."

Rafayel didn’t bother to look up. Instead, he nonchalantly dropped onto one of the nearby couches, crossing his legs and throwing an arm over his eyes as though blocking out the world. His voice, laced with indifference, carried over to her. "Let me know when you’re done, Mikayla. I’m resting my eyes for a bit."

And with that, he drifted into the land of dreams, leaving Mikayla standing alone by the claw machine, frowning.

She couldn’t make sense of his behavior. Mikayla knew Rafayel was often a bit petulant, but she had never seen him act quite this distant. For the past week, while he had helped her gather information for her new mission, he’d seemed more aloof — dismissing her attempts to make plans or even join her for a casual meet-up. Something had shifted, and Mikayla was determined to figure out what it was, though she knew she’d need to wait for the right moment to get to the bottom of it.

Rafayel didn’t intend to come off as rude, but he was too exhausted to lift a finger now. The past week had been nothing short of grueling — exhausting with a capital E. By day, he had to watch you log in, then rush around performing tasks and maintaining an act of normalcy to avoid raising suspicions. And when you slept, he scoured the darker corners of the world for information on what was truly happening. Yet, every person he approached simply advised him to see a psychiatrist, urging him to keep his — and he quotes — "barely sane, childish thoughts" to himself and not bother them. 

Somehow, by the end of the week, you had unwittingly become his source at the end. He had overheard you ranting to yourself about someone named 'Infold,' expressing a strange mix of hatred and affection — how they were both the bane of your existence and the love of your life. Who was this Infold? And why did you harbor such a paradoxical relationship with them? Why did you refer to them as the love of your life? 

From your scattered monologues, Rafayel had picked up on a few peculiar phrases. He had even started a list in his journal — strange words like “stamina,” “ascend,” “daily login,” “deep space trials,” and others filled the pages, each followed by large question marks. Thomas — bless him — had noticed Rafayel scribbling these words down and informed him that most of these terms appeared to be related to the controls of a game.

At first, Rafayel had dismissed the notion, but then one day, he overheard you venting as you worked on something beside him during "quality time"—another strange term. He recalled the way your lower lip wobbled slightly as you taped and glued some paper together. “I hate Tyler so much,” you muttered with disdain. “He didn’t even consider the money I spent buying this and just tore it all up like that.” A tense silence followed until you held the paper aloft, your expression shifting to one of subtle satisfaction. 

What he saw on that sheet forever altered his perception of reality. It was a poster of himself in one of his outfits, and in the left corner, emblazoned with bold text, was the label: *“Rafayel: Character of Love and Deepspace.”* He was a game character. Fully alive in his own universe—breathing, thinking, existing—but nothing more than a programmed entity in yours. He felt a deep conflict, struggling to comprehend the full implications. Was this some kind of curse? Has he truly gone insane over the years? If all of this was real, if he really was merely code in your reality, then what cruel twist of fate had disrupted the natural order of things? 

Why was he the only one who had been granted this interdimensional epiphany? 

No-one other than him seemed aware of whatever was happening with him. No one knew that they were all game characters in a different reality. He knew that he could choose to ignore your uncanny existence yet something about you drew him in. It made him wish to escape the world he calls home and just enter yours without a care. Your eyes held all the love and warmth he had ever wanted and some selfish part in him intended to keep it that way. It baffled him further how you were aware that he was a mere programmed character in your world yet you never viewed him as such. 

He wanted to be real for you. 

And he would. He’ll make sure of it.

He was brutally shaken out of his reverie when Mikayla woke him up, showing him the plushies she got. He felt his eyebrow slightly twitch in annoyance when she grabbed his cheeks and squished them. On any other day, he would have let himself be pampered by her affections but this wasn’t just any other day and he was completely not in the mood to entertain her. He watched her retreating figure as she went to play another round on the claw machine. There was only one thought in the front of his mind: He couldn’t get to you in his weakened form. He needed to unlock his full potential once again.

He needed to awaken the seas and restore Lemuria.

And he’ll be doing just that no matter what the price or sacrifice.

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[ruewritesoccasionally]

The Reunion | Aaron Pierre

Pairings: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: none

Series summary: Aaron and YN’s friendship has stood the test of time, but when the chance for something more comes, will they risk everything for a love that feels impossible—or keep circling around the truth of their hearts?

Chapter summary: A night of nostalgia and reconnection at a high school reunion stirs old emotions, leaving two friends questioning the boundaries of their relationship and the possibilities they’ve always left unspoken.

Word Count: 2.5K

a/n: i wanted to try my hand something really cliche and fluffy like a friends to lovers trope - this will be a slow burn (my own fault lol) - writing a series has never been my strong suit so you'll have to bear with me

The smell of something warm and savoury hit YN the moment she stepped through the door of Marcus and Aisha’s townhouse. She could hear the faint murmur of voices and the clink of glasses before the hosts themselves emerged from the kitchen, their faces lighting up in unison.

“Finally! The last piece of the puzzle,” Marcus declared, spreading his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture.

“YN, you look gorgeous, as always,” Aisha chimed in, giving her a quick but warm hug. “Come in, food’s almost ready, and we’re all starving.”

“Let me guess,” YN teased as she slipped off her coat. “Nobody wanted to wait for me, but Marcus said it’d be rude to start without the whole group.”

“She gets me,” Marcus said with a wink, ushering her into the dining area. The room was alive with laughter and chatter, every familiar face instantly making her feel at ease. There was Michelle, always animated, waving her wine glass like a conductor’s baton as she told some wild story. Isaiah, who leaned back in his chair with that quiet grin, nodding along. And Aaron, seated at the end of the table, his presence as steady as ever, offering her a small, knowing smile when their eyes met.

She settled into the open seat beside Aaron, her heart giving the faintest flutter. It wasn’t the kind of flutter that screamed attraction—not outwardly, anyway. It was more like the warm ache of familiarity; the gravitational pull she’d always felt toward him.

“Glad you made it,” Aaron said, his tone easy, like they hadn’t seen each other in a while even though it had only been a week.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied, her voice light.

The evening unfolded effortlessly. Plates of food were passed around, stories from their university days resurfaced, and the wine flowed as freely as the laughter. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Marcus raised his glass dramatically.

“Alright, team,” he began. “Before we subject ourselves to the chaos of tonight’s reunion, I propose a toast. To surviving high school, thriving in adulthood—”

“… and for surviving the reunion without resorting to violence,” Michelle cut in, raising her glass higher.

“Exactly,” Marcus said with a grin. “Cheers!”

Glasses clinked, and someone muttered, “We’re gonna need more drinks if we run into Kevin Thompson. That man never learned how to shut up.”

“Amen to that,” Aisha added, and the group erupted into laughter.

By the time the limo arrived, everyone was buzzing—part excitement, part nervous energy. YN had just texted Trey to let him know where to meet them, and now she found herself fussing with the hem of her dress in the mirror by the door.

“You’re good,” Aaron said as he passed by, his tone so casual it almost sounded indifferent. But she caught the faintest softening in his expression, like he’d been paying closer attention than he let on.

“Thanks,” she replied, her smile shy. She adjusted her earrings and turned back to the group, who were gathering coats and handbags in a flurry of last-minute preparations.

“YN, you need to teach Trey our trick for changing the subject when Kevin inevitably tries to corner us,” Isaiah teased as they stepped into the limo, his tone light and teasing.

Aaron, seated across from her in the limo, greeted Trey with a handshake and a brief but polite smile. There was no tension, no lingering looks that might give anything away. Aaron played his part with impeccable grace, though YN knew him well enough to notice the way he carried himself—a quiet, measured restraint that only someone who knew him intimately would pick up on.

The reunion venue was alive with energy, laughter echoing through the halls as old friends reconnected. The music thrummed softly in the background of the high school reunion; a curated playlist of throwbacks meant to stir nostalgia. YN adjusted the strap of her dress and smoothed down the fabric for what felt like the fiftieth time since walking through the doors. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she made her way into the main hall, her date trailing slightly behind her, holding two glasses of champagne. But it wasn’t long before someone approached their group, drink in hand, eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Wow, YN,” they said, their tone light but laced with something else. “I always thought you and Aaron would’ve ended up together by now. Guess a lot’s changed, huh?”

The comment hit like a stone skipping across water, rippling through the group. YN’s smile faltered for just a second, but it was long enough for Aaron to notice. He said nothing, his face a mask of calm as he took a sip of his drink. Trey’s hand rested lightly on her back, a gesture meant to steady her, though she wasn’t sure if he even caught the shift in atmosphere.

“Life’s full of surprises,” Aaron said smoothly, breaking the silence. His voice was even, his smile cordial, and yet there was a weight to his words that lingered even after the moment passed.

As the group moved on, the comment left a faint but undeniable tension in its wake. YN couldn’t shake the unease that settled in her chest, and Aaron noticed the slight change in her posture, the way her laugh felt a little more forced. He stayed quiet at first, letting the others fill the space. He’d always been good at observing, at reading the room. But he said nothing, keeping his thoughts locked away, as he always had.

The night seemed to stretch in an oddly suspended way, time moving both too fast and too slow as the reunion came to a close. Laughter still lingered in the air, the sound of glasses clinking faintly from other groups still enjoying their night. YN stood with her friends just outside the venue, the cool evening air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the party. Her fingers tugged at the straps of her clutch absentmindedly, her mind flitting between Trey’s steady presence beside her and the earlier comment that seemed to have shifted something imperceptible in the air.

One by one, the group made their way to the limo parked at the curb, the energy mellowing into a comfortable buzz. Aaron leaned against the vehicle, his frame effortlessly commanding as he exchanged a few light-hearted remarks with Marcus and Aisha. YN caught herself glancing his way—his smile, the casual ease in his posture. He looked entirely at peace, and yet, something about him tonight had her questioning if that was entirely true.

As they piled into the limo, conversation resumed, though quieter now. Marcus cracked a joke about one of their old classmates that earned a ripple of laughter, but the words barely registered for YN. Trey sat beside her, his arm draped loosely across the back of the seat, while Aaron settled in across from them. The confined space, while luxurious, felt heavy. Every glance, every movement seemed magnified.

YN found herself hyper-aware of Aaron’s presence—of the way his gaze flicked out the window, his fingers tapping absently against his knee. If he noticed the way Trey’s thumb brushed against her shoulder, he didn’t show it. Instead, he remained composed, even offering Trey a polite, “Good meeting you tonight.” Trey nodded in return, the exchange brief but cordial. It was Aaron’s restraint that struck her most—not a flicker of jealousy, not a hint of bitterness. Just that quiet, unreadable strength he carried so well.

The ride stretched on as the limo began its route of dropping everyone home. First was Marcus, who exited with a lingering grin and a playful, “Don’t forget, we survived high school, but some of these people definitely peaked.” Aisha rolled her eyes but laughed as she climbed out next, pausing to hug YN tightly. As she leaned in, her voice dropped to a whisper only YN could hear.

“Call me in the morning, okay? We’ll talk.”

YN tightened her hold just slightly in response, the gesture subtle but enough to convey her agreement. When Aisha finally pulled away, she offered YN a small, knowing smile before disappearing into the night.

Now, it was just the three of them—Aaron, YN, and Trey. The tension in the car shifted again, more noticeable in the absence of their friends. Trey filled the silence with a comment about the night’s playlist, oblivious to the glances YN kept stealing toward Aaron. When they finally reached Trey’s stop, he gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and promised to text her when he got home.

The moment he left the car though, it felt as though the very air changed. YN and Aaron sat in silence as the limo pulled away, the city lights painting fleeting patterns across their faces. She could feel his eyes on her, though she couldn’t bring herself to look his way. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts too loud in the quiet.

“You okay?” His voice broke through, low and steady - his question layered with a deeper meaning, eluding to her happiness.

“Yeah.” She forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just tired.”

Aaron nodded, his expression unreadable. “It was a good night.”

“Yeah,” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The limo finally came to a stop outside her flat. Aaron moved to open the door for her, his movements deliberate and smooth. She stepped out, the cool night air brushing against her skin. Turning back, she met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them in the quiet.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” she murmured.

“Goodnight, YN.” His voice was softer now, almost tender.

She walked to her door, feeling his eyes on her until she stepped inside. As the door clicked shut behind her, she leaned against it, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Her flat felt too quiet, too still compared to the night’s events. Kicking off her heels, she made her way to the bathroom, mechanically removing her makeup and letting the cool water centre her.

Yet, as she climbed into bed, her mind refused to settle. The reunion, the comment, the limo ride—it all played on a loop. And Aaron. Always Aaron.

Across town, Aaron sat in the back of the limo, his thoughts similarly restless. His elbow rested against the door; his fingers pressed to his temple as he replayed the night. The smile on YN’s face, the warmth in her laugh—he wanted her to have that happiness, even if it wasn’t with him. But the ache in his chest told him what he’d been trying to ignore for years.

Some truths, no matter how deeply buried, had a way of surfacing. And tonight felt like the beginning of something neither of them could quite name yet.

The morning after the reunion was slow to rise, the early rays of sun filtering through YN’s curtains, casting gentle streaks of light across her bed. She lay still, her duvet tangled around her legs, as fragmented memories of last night played out in her mind like an unfinished film. The laughter, the faces she hadn’t seen in years, the subtle tension that had wrapped itself around her chest like a second skin.

And then, Aaron.

Her eyes fluttered shut again as her thoughts drifted back to the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his laugh. The way he’d greeted Trey with that effortless grace, as though it didn’t cost him a single thing to see her on another man’s arm. But it wasn’t just that moment—it was the echo of words she hadn’t even spoken aloud, the unshakeable ache of wanting something that felt impossible. Her chest stirred with a confusing mix of nerves, regret, longing, and compassion, each emotion vying for space in the quiet of her bedroom.

She sighed, her arm draping across her face as if she could block it all out. This was why she hated reunions. Too much digging up the past, too much pretending things were simpler than they were. Just as she turned over, trying to will herself back into the sanctuary of sleep, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The name flashing on the screen was a welcome distraction.

Aisha.

“Hey,” YN answered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“You sound like death,” Aisha teased, the warmth in her tone softening the jab. “Late night?”

“You were there, you know it was,” YN replied, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

“True, but I wasn’t the one with a date,” Aisha countered lightly, her words skimming just close enough to the edge of teasing to make YN’s stomach twist.

“Trey’s not... it’s not serious,” YN said quickly, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. Her voice was quiet, but even she could hear the uncertainty laced in it.

“Hmm,” was all Aisha said in response, a non-committal hum that spoke volumes. “So... you’ve been thinking about last night, haven’t you?”

YN’s silence was answer enough. She stared at the wall, her mind already wandering back to the moment in the ballroom when someone’s offhand comment had shattered the fragile bubble of normalcy she’d tried to build.

“We always thought you and Aaron would’ve been together by now.”

The words had lingered like smoke, choking the air out of the room. YN hadn’t even looked at Aaron then; she couldn’t. Her heart had clenched too tightly at the thought of what could’ve been, what should’ve been—but wasn’t. Aisha’s voice brought her back to the present.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Aisha asked, her tone softer now, almost tentative.

“No,” YN lied, too quickly, and the weak conviction in her voice betrayed her.

“YN,” Aisha pressed gently, “we’re all rooting for you two, you know that, right? We stopped pushing the agenda a long time ago, hoping you’d find each other in your own time. But... we don’t want it to be too late. We don’t want to see you both settle for less when you could have each other.”

YN swallowed hard, her throat tight with unspoken emotion. “On paper we work, but we’re people, not paper,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. The words felt heavier than she expected, like they carried the weight of years of doubt, fear, and unacknowledged longing.

Aisha was silent for a moment, letting YN’s words settle. “You really believe that?”

YN didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind was already drifting again, back to the countless moments over the years that had tethered her and Aaron together. The stolen glances, the inside jokes, the quiet understanding that didn’t need words. The way he could read her moods with a single look, how he’d always known what to say—or what not to say—when she needed it most.

Practically soulmates, she thought bitterly. Always orbiting, never colliding.

“You’re not answering me,” Aisha said, her voice pulling YN back to the present again. “You know, for someone who’s so good with words, you get awfully quiet when it comes to Aaron.”

“I’m just tired,” YN said, though even she didn’t believe it.

“Mhm,” Aisha replied, clearly unconvinced. “Well, get some rest. But we’re talking about this. Properly. Tomorrow.”

There was a pause before Aisha added, “And YN? Just... think about it. Really think about it. What’s scarier: risking the friendship or never knowing what it could’ve been?”

YN tightened her grip on the phone, her heart hammering in her chest. “Goodbye, Aisha.”

“Okay, babe,” Aisha said softly, and the call ended with a quiet click.

YN sat in the silence that followed, Aisha’s words echoing in her mind like a haunting melody. What’s scarier: risking the friendship or never knowing what it could’ve been?

She exhaled shakily, leaning back against the headboard and letting her head fall back. The weight of the question settled over her, heavy and unrelenting. Because deep down, she already knew the answer. She was just too afraid to admit it.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[illyrianshadow]

Lost in Shadows (pt. IV)

Summary: Will you finally be able to reconnect with Azriel know that the truth of your connection has been revealed?

Warnings: don't think there really are any, though there might be a lot more coming in the next chapters 👀

A/N: It took me a while to write this one, I hope I did it justice. I don't know what possessed me to make these two so sickeningly sweet and tortured. I hope you enjoy, please let me know your thoughts!!

Word Count: 2.6K

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

———————

Your hands wrap around the ice cold glass of water Azriel has placed in front of you. You relish the feeling of the cool material against your skin, willing the sensation to bring you back to reality. You need to focus, clear the haze in your head so you can properly face the male in front of you. 

You curse the mother for being this stupid, struggling to remember why you thought being drunk for this moment would solve all your problems. Now that you are actually facing Azriel, now that you know that he’s your mate, all you wish is for the effects of the alcohol to disappear as quickly as possible. 

Your hands are shaking as you lift the glass of water to your lips, the refreshing liquid taking away some of the burn the many drinks have left in your system. 

You urge the alcohol in your bloodstream to dissolve and try and force your head to clear. You don’t want to be drunk for this moment. You have waited too long for this. 

Luckily your Illyrian heritage sees to it that any alcohol you consume evaporates at a fast pace once you stop drinking, and it’s already been a little while since you had your last shot.

As you continue to drink your water, you can feel your drunken state easing off. The cool liquid mingled with the leftover remnants of alcohol lowering its effects to a soft buzz. This you can work with. 

You turn back to Azriel, savouring the feeling of his hand still resting on top of your own. You can feel the outline of his scars on your soft skin, the weight providing a comforting warmth. You feel dizzy, heart rate speeding up as you recall the words he’s just spoken to you. 

I can’t believe you’re finally here. 

Silver pools in your eyes and relief floods through you as you process their meaning. He remembers. 

A single teardrop starts to make its way down your cheek. One of Azriel’s shadows frantically reaches out to wipe it away before it can reach the bottom of your chin and drop onto the bar. 

He is still studying you. Worry clouding his handsome features as he tries to decipher what you’re feeling through the jumble of emotions now ablaze in his chest. With the bond now fully awake it’s hard for him to separate your emotions from his own. 

One of his hands reaches out to wipe away a fresh tear, a small gasp leaving your lips at the sensation of his skin replacing the soft touch of his shadow. He rests his hand on your cheek and tilts your face towards his own so he can study your eyes. 

“S?” His nickname for you falls from his lips, barely more than a whisper, and another tear threatens to fall from hearing it after so long.

He always used to say you were just as much a part of him as his shadows. He’d teasingly started calling you “his shadow girl”, “shadow” or simply “S”.

The mere memory is enough to make you feel fuzzy inside. 

You’ve not felt like this in centuries. 

You drink in the sight of the male in front of you, letting your eyes roam over his form freely now that he’s finally close enough to you for you to really take him in.  

He definitely looks… intimidating. You look down to the expanse of his chest, studying the exquisite muscles you can see underneath the stretched fabric. Letting your eyes wander to his broad arms, you notice the tattoos peeking out from underneath the short sleeves of his shirt and wonder how much more of the black ink is hidden underneath his clothes. You quickly look away before it becomes obvious that you are practically undressing him with your eyes. You let your gaze wander to his wings instead, and your eyes widen slightly at the size of them. 

You feel a slight flush beginning to form on your cheeks as you stare at the soft looking membrane. You can’t help but wonder if it’s true what they said about Illyrian males and their wingspans as you study them. You blame the hint of alcohol for your brazen thoughts. That and the overwhelming primal need to claim the male in front of you as yours. 

After a few moments of unapologetic staring your eyes shift back to his face. You find him examining you intently. Shadows swirling around him as he’s looking you over to make sure you are okay. 

He might be one of the most intimidating Illyrian warriors in history, but in the way he is looking at you right now, all you can see is that little boy staring up at you from the forest floor, eyes wide and vulnerable, all of his emotions readable in his open expression. 

One of his shadows wraps itself around your wrist in a comforting touch and you can feel some of the tension you’ve been feeling leave your body in relief. You’re really here, home, with him. 

You realise you have not said a word to him since he’s spoken the words you wished to hear for so long.  

“I told you I would find my way back to you.” you say softly, voice rough and trembling slightly from the lump forming in your throat. 

You lean slightly closer to him, the instinct to touch him overwhelming you. The golden thread connecting you is screaming for attention, begging you to get out of here as fast as you can and get lost in each other. To claim him. 

“I never doubted it for a second.” he whispers back, his hazel eyes burning with intensity. You can feel all of his emotions, the magnitude of both your feelings threatening to overwhelm you. 

You notice the hand that is not on yours moving toward your knee, but Azriel seems to stop himself, seemingly not quite sure if he’s okay to touch you. You give him a small smile and reach out, moving his hand back toward your leg. The comforting touch makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. 

Your position feels very intimate considering your current surroundings and you wish there was somewhere you could go to be fully alone. 

You’re suddenly very aware of being watched. You look around and a rush of anxiety floods through you. People are looking at the pair of you, clearly wanting to know more about the female engaged in an obviously intimate conversation with the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

When you came back to Velaris a couple of days ago you promised yourself you’d lay low until you were absolutely certain it was safe. Seeing Azriel and making the decision to approach him had thrown you off balance, made you careless.  

You notice some of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around you both as if they share your need to be alone with him. Even after all these years they still seem attuned to your thoughts and feelings. 

Grateful for the illusion of privacy, you move your chair slightly closer to his until your legs are touching, the leather of his trousers resting against the soft material of your own. 

Azriel’s shadows wrap around you even tighter, sheltering you from the rest of the bar and creating a familiar blanket of comfort. 

“Is there somewhere private we can go to talk?” you whisper. 

The sentence has barely left your lips before you feel a familiar coolness wrapped around your form, followed by a sensation that makes you feel as if you’re being pushed through darkness. 

Not long later you feel cold air on your skin and cobblestones under your feet and realise you’re in an alley outside the bar. 

A soft laugh leaves your lips as you wonder what else his shadows can do now that Azriel has fully learned to control them. 

He smiles at you, stepping slightly closer. “I know somewhere we can go, do you trust me?” 

You just nod your head and before you have time to process what’s happening, his arms wrap around you as he lifts you up from the ground, cradling you against his chest. You squeal at the unexpected movement, a sound that draws a soft laugh from Azriel’s lips. 

You’ve not been in the sky in centuries. When you both got older and Azriel properly mastered his flying, he used to take you out sometimes. The trips were few and far between as he was only able to take you when it was dark and you were sure you couldn’t be spotted by the camp below. 

You used to live for those short trips. Being Illyrian, you’d always loved the feeling of being in the air. You hated being stuck on the ground, your instincts always causing you to look upwards, towards the sky. It had taken years to get over the grief of not having wings of your own. 

You look up at him from the position in his arms, a big smile now on your lips. 

“Hi.” The word leaves your lip in a soft giggle. 

“Hello.” He whispers back, an equally big smile plastered on his own face. It’s a funny sight, this big intimidating Illyrian male wearing such a giddy expression. 

He presses you closer to him, and you lean your head against his chest as you close your eyes and breathe in his rich scent. 

“Ready?” His warm breath touches your ear as he asks the question and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. Being this close to him makes you want to rip his clothes off and do very bad things to him. You pray to the mother that he doesn’t notice how this is making you feel. 

“Ready.” You reply, and you can feel him push off from the ground. 

As you soar through the air above Velaris you feel happier than you have in centuries. You forgot what it felt like to be airborne. You take in the view of the city from the top and marvel at its beauty. The sidra looks like liquid starlight and the little lights scattered through the streets below make the city look like the night sky. 

It’s breathtaking. 

“As are you.” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of Azriel’s voice echoing in your mind and you feel a soft blush on your cheeks from the sentiment. Another part of your connection that you’ll have to get used to. You must have let your guard down enough for your thoughts to reach him through the bond. 

After a short flight you touch down in a small forest clearing and Azriel carefully puts you down, smiling at you sheepishly. 

Of course he brought you to the forest, it’s only fitting to do this in the place you both feel most at home in. 

You take in your surroundings. You can’t be too far away from the city. The trees are different from the ones in the forest surrounding Windhaven, but the environment is not any less peaceful. It’s perfect. 

As he sits down and pats the ground next to him, tears start to fall down your cheeks once more. You weren’t sure you’d ever get to do this again. You are overwhelmed by the fact that you’re here with him. 

The knowledge that he’s your mate, combined with both of your emotions ablaze in your chest, shatters the walls you put up to stop yourself from crying. You have not cried this much in centuries, normally taking pride in your ability to compose yourself and keep your emotions steady. 

As you start sobbing you lower yourself on to the ground next to him. He immediately pulls you close to his chest, shadows engulfing you both to block out the world from view. Your own secret hideaway. 

Sobs rack through your body as Azriels hands stroke your hair with a softness that makes you feel like it’s okay to show him your emotions. He’d always made you feel like it was okay to be vulnerable. 

When your breathing evens out and you feel like you can form words again, you lean into his side and take his hand in your own. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t remember me.” you say softly, not daring to look at him. The shadows are providing the same comfort they used to when you were younger, making you feel like you can whisper your deepest secrets into the darkness. 

You hear his breathing catch at that, a soft whimper leaving his lips. You feel agony flair through the bond and as you sit up to look at him, you notice tears streaming down his face, mirroring your own expression from not too long ago. 

“My love..” he says softly, and your heart swells at the term of endearment. “I could never forget you.”

He moves his hand towards the top button of his shirt, undoing it to reveal a thin gold chain. Attached is a small tube that looks like it can fit something inside. He unscrews it and shakes it softly to reveal a bit of rolled up paper. 

“My most prized possession.” 

He hands it to you, and as you unroll it reveals familiar handwriting. Your own. It’s the note you left him the day you fled to Velaris. How has it survived all this time? 

Azriel points at the little golden tube when he detects your puzzled expression. “It’s enchanted.” You notice a small blush starting to form on his cheeks. “I had to make sure I could keep a part of you with me. I wanted to keep a piece of you close to my chest. Close to..” he takes a deep trembling breath before speaking his next words. “Close to the bond. I think it comforted it somehow, relieved some of the ache.” 

The meaning of his words hit you. He’d known. All this time he’d known you were his mate, and had to deal with the knowledge by himself. Your heart breaks at the thought of the mating bond sitting unanswered for centuries. All you want is to feel him close. To show him you are here now, that you are his. That you’re not going anywhere. 

The all-consuming need to claim him overwhelms you once more. 

You’re sure the complete adoration you feel for him has to be written all over your face as you stare at him. You move closer, needing to feel his lips on your own. You’re about to close the distance between you when his eyes go vacant, as if all of his focus is projected inward. 

When his expression clears again he looks at you, all the colour drained from his face. “That was Rhys.” 

Anxiety starts to build in your chest. You know of the High Lord’s daemati abilities, and given the feeling of Azriel’s overwhelming fear building in your chest, you know whatever he’s about to reveal cannot be good. 

“There’s unrest in one of the Illyrian mountain camps. He’s worried there might be a rebellion coming.” 

You’re scared to ask the question burning on your lips. “What camp Az?”

He stays quiet for a moment, scared to reveal the truth to you. “Az?” you press. 

You feel like the world disappears from underneath you at the words that leave his lips.  

“Frost Edge.”

taglist (comment/send me a message if you'd like to be added and I'll add you in x): @yesiamthatwierd @k-homosapien @mortqlprojections @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @a-courtof-azriel @greenmandm @abadfantasybook @lreadsstuff @acourtofmoonlightandstars @xadenswhore @lilah-asteria

[agxxb]

Heyo, is it possible to request you some fluff smut for Eloise Bridgerton with a fem!reader ? 🥺

Have a nice day/night. ❤️

hiii, thank you for the request!! i hope you like :))

Touch Me There .𖥔 ݁ ˖

eloise bridgertonx f!reader

summary: you and eloise go to your usual spot… to read, nothing else.

warnings: soft smut. vaginal fingering & clit rubbing. first time for both of them. no use of y/n. [1k]

“Which book have you brought with you today?”

“Today, Miss Bridgerton, I am reading ‘The Corsair’,” you replied, a smile on your face as you talked more formally.

Eloise rolled her eyes at your antics. “Well, I am reading ‘Gulliver’s Travels’.”

You had previously showed an interest in the book, mentioning how you had been wanting to read it for a while. You smiled to yourself, a soft one that was aimed at her despite not making eye-contact.

“How much have you read?” you asked your friend, finally looking up at her.

“Only the beginning. I have read up to chapter three, and it is mesmerising how Jonathan Swift describes even the blandest of things.”

“Tell me more,” you insisted, your smile still on your face, only growing as she rambled excitedly.

However, whilst she was maundering, you were not paying attention. Instead, you were too focused on something else.

You loved to watch Eloise partake in her passions, even more so when you had the privilege of bearing witness to it. You had always found her beautiful, a comfort to be around.

Deep pools of glacial blue, her eyes were a perfect spring sky, always full of excitement and joy — especially when near a book. Eloise’s smile was warmer than a summer’s day, and her colour-infused cheeks dimpled with a blossoming smile that only true happiness could bring to light.

You blinked, snapping yourself out of your daydream. She was still talking, and you smiled gently to yourself. You wished nothing more than to lean forward, to connect your lips with hers and feel how soft they were. They moved like a poem would rhyme, and the way she talked was so much more than words.

Before she could say anything else, you listened to your impulses. You moved forward, placing your lips to hers. They were much softer than you had believed them to be, so delicate.

You suddenly pulled back, eyes wide and swimming with guilt. It had hit you, what you had done. You were drowning with a sinful feeling in your chest, half expecting a lighting bolt to hit you despite the sun shining through the leaves of the tree you sat under.

“I am so sorry. I do not know what came over me. I-”

Without being able to finish yourself, Eloise had placed a palm against your cheek and brought you in closer. Your lips slotted together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces finally being put together.

You made a noise – one in between surprise and pleasure – and kissed back. Eloise placed a hand on your cheek and reciprocated the sound , moving closer to you.

The kiss – which had started off slow, hesitant – grew passionate, and more eager. One of your hands moved to her waist, gently squeezing and hearing her moan quietly.

You pulled back slightly, close enough to feel her breath on your face. Your eyes flickered between hers, checking for any signs of regret or uncertainty.

“Please do not stop,” Eloise pleaded with you, her voice a whisper.

She moved forward, reconnecting your lips. You leaned closer, allowing her to lay down with you beside her. You hovered slightly over her, one hand still on her waist whilst hers were on your cheeks.

There was an ache in between your legs, growing stronger with each sound that left Eloise’s throat. You knew what it was, you had started touching yourself not too long ago — and always to the thought of your friend. You felt disgusted in yourself after you had reached your peak, reality setting in. You were meant to have those thoughts about a man, and yet here you were, holding onto Eloise Bridgerton as though your life depended on it.

Your hand moved up to cup her breast, the sensation making her moan once again, her chest arching up towards you. They fit perfectly in your palm, your fingers squeezing around it gently.

“There is an ache,” Eloise pulled back to say, voice hushed as though it were a secret. “Between my legs.”

“Would you like me to do something about it?”

She nodded instantly, bringing you in for another kiss. Your hand moved down from her breast to her leg, flicking your wrist to get under the skirt. Her skin was soft, hair faint against your fingertips as you ran them against her thigh.

Her legs opened voluntarily, granting you the access you oh so wished for. You teased the insides of her thighs, something you did to work yourself up.

Eloise’s hips jolted as you made contact with her warmth, fingers quickly becoming wet. She pulled back from the kiss to let out a moan, eyes closing as you rubbed her swollen clit.

“Feels so good.”

Her hand moved down to squeeze your arm, head thrown back and hair mingling with the grass. You were touching her the way you would touch yourself, unaware of the different ways to pleasure another.

You moved your fingers down, slowly pushing two in and curling them inside her. She moaned loudly, head thrown backwards and hair mingling with the grass. Her eyes squeezed shut and her brows furrowed together, and you had never bore witness to such a descry, or heard such a beautiful melody.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to her neck, and smiled upon hearing her moan. You sped up your movements upon hearing her moans get louder and higher in pitch. Not long after, you felt her squeezing around your fingers. You wanted to make her feel amazing, and so did whatever you could to achieve that goal.

You only slowed down when you felt Eloise’s hand on your wrist. She breathed out, chest rising and heartbeat rapid. Her cheeks were red, the blush of roses and the peek of champagne pink.

You removed your fingers, the pads all wrinkled and still wet. You got curious, bringing them to your mouth and sucking on them. You moaned quietly at the taste. It was amazing.

Before you could say anything, Eloise suddenly sat up with wide eyes, looking around and scanning the area. “Where is my book?”

[tarotlexa]

PICK A PILE READING- why you think you're sad vs. why you're actually sad

welcome to my new tarot reading idea, if you've been feeling sad today or in the last few days feel free to pick a pile for a deeper introspection as to what's actually going on and how to address it. please make sure to be ready to receive the message.

as always, this is a collective reading so take what resonates and leave what does not. much love <3

⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀

　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　*　　⠀.

　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦

　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　*

.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　.　　　　.　　　

　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,

pile 1: okay so i believe that you think that your sadness stems from big changes or endings, especially pertaining to friendships or a situation where you feel no longer in control. you think you're sad because you had to be strong for too long and that strength hasn't paid you back anything, that chapter in your life still has closed. the truth is that you're not simply sad about change, you feel like you don't have enough balance or certainty in your life. you feel unstable, like happiness is something that simply cannot belong to you. you probably went through many extremes in your life or you could have had bad major shifts happening right after you finally felt "safe". you're really hoping for a sign that everything will work out and this is it, this is your sign. being happy is for everyone, it is entirely possible for you to experience the stability and happiness you desire. you're not stuck in a limbo of desperation or bad luck. you have to get out of this exhausting mindset in the first place and recognize you also deserve happiness. you know that things need to shift but you don't know how to initiate it. tap into your emotions without letting them rule you, allow yourself to daydream and feel joy and reconnect with what makes you fulfilled without wondering when it's going to be taken away. break the toxic pattern of expecting bad things to happen. reclaim your power because it is in you and deep down, you know it <3

pile 2: you believe your sadness to be related to your relationship or the fact that you had to leave something behind, maybe you think you're sad because things are moving too fast and you're trying to balance practicality with emotions or you're being forced to move when you're still emotionally attached to something or someone. you might be hiding this sadness well by pretending to be focused on your work and so on but something inside you feels off. you're longing for emotional security while still feeling so unbalanced about what security actually means to you. the real issue runs deeper than you think. this sadness isn't really about external circumstances, it's the weight of expectations, emotional exhaustion, burnout and a very well hidden longing for validation. you placed those insane expectations on yourself (possibly due to your family's circumstances) and now you don't know what's real and what's not and how to get out of this. my love you've been carrying too much, both emotional burdens and competition with yourself and others. it's draining the life out of you. a part of you knows the truth but it might be difficult to fully face, maybe there's a realization you've been omitting or some painful truth you've been running away from about something from your past (perhaps childhood wounds?), you never feel enough no matter how much external success you gain. i want you to know that it's okay to take a minute to reflect, it's okay to realize some ugly truths about your family and still loving them. what's not okay is to cling onto this exhaustion and pressure and past wounds. you're enough the way that you are and you don't need to prove your worth to the world, for you are your own beautiful being. the best way to address this would be to seek guidance from within (or even therapy), what beliefs are shaping your emotions? are they actually yours or have they been passed down by family, society or past experiences? also, you don't have to fight EVERYTHING. as i said, you don't need to prove your worth to the world. you're more than enough and if someone doesn't recognize it, it's not on you but it's on them. you don't need to value their opinion anyway.

pile 3: this is the pile which had the most cards so i believe that we're gonna have to address more topics together. at face value, your sadness comes from something or someone you had to leave behind (a person, a goal, a version of yourself) and now you're unsure of what's next and that makes you feel like you're totally losing control of yourself. maybe you've had to let go something or someone you have manifested for a very long time, only for them to no longer serve your best interest. there's also an emotional element here, perhaps you believe you're sad because you haven't been receiving the love, support and recognition that you desire. you might feel like you always give more than you receive and maybe that's why you had to leave that person or goal behind. you're trying to strategize and rationalize your way out of this sadness, you believe that once you figure it out the feeling will go away, WRONG. unfortunately you have to sit with your feelings sometimes, no matter how bad they're hurting you. it's part of our nature. btw this sadness isn't just about what you've lost or what you're seeking, it's about a profound emotional disconnection and a cycle of self sabotage. your real sadness is tied to loneliness and nostalgia, you might have been emotionally isolating yourself from your loved ones without fully realizing it or you're romanticizing the past in a way that isn't really helping you out (perhaps an old version of yourself, an old dream and so on) and it obviously feels emotionally draining. instead of allowing yourself to feel deeply, you keep numbing yourself and rejecting others trying to help you even more. you're trying to emotionally disconnect from yourself and that's what others don't seem to get which in turn fuels this cycle. there could also be a sense of financial or material insecurity at play here, don't be afraid to accept other people's help even if you don't want to. you're dealing with a very painful cycle that only you can end and it needs to end NOW, even if you're currently feeling betrayed by life. there's still joy to be found, new people to meet, experiences that you're dreaming of doing. i know it's hard to believe in joy right now but if you allow yourself to be helped and to be held during this trying time, it's going to be there. how to address this sadness: you're going to need to stop letting fear dictate your actions. as i mentioned before, you need to do what's scaring you the most rn and if it's asking for help, then you're going to need to do that (it could be also something related to your dad since the emperor is here). you might feel unseen or underappreciated but part of the solution is celebrating yourself first by acknowledging yourself without seeking external validation. dive deeper into why you allowed yourself to feel this way for so long, what started it in the first place? seek therapy, get curious again, try new things and explore new ideas. bring back that sense of childlike wonder that you've been hiding from yourself and from others for so long! start small, notice something beautiful about yourself and your environment. allow yourself to get out of this shell so you can embrace the new you. reconnect with joy.

thank you for reading! comments/feedback/reblogs are always appreciated <3

[mashtatosworld]

drama

summary: the timeline of the 'back to you' series

*not an accurate representation of real-time - im a human that's bad at maths

Step into the world of y/n and Gdragon - featuring the highs and lows of an idol couple.

The Start:

The couple first captured headlines in 2015, when y/n starred as the lead in BIGBANG’s dreamy Let’s Not Fall in Love music video. At the time, y/n was still carving her own path, a fresh face in the industry with more potential than recognition.

That all changed just a week after the video’s release, when the pair surprised fans by announcing their first collaborative track. The song was an instant sensation, earning them multiple awards and solidifying their status as both artistic partners and the industry’s newest power couple.

Later that year, the 2015 Melon Music Awards became the stage for their highly-anticipated first public appearance together - a moment that sparked endless headlines and fan theories about their off-stage romance.

Though they toured separately, the two couldn’t seem to stay apart for long. Fans were regularly treated to surprise appearances at each other’s concerts, moments that only added to the couple’s mystique. Behind the scenes, insiders revealed that GDragon and y/n were secretly engaged for three years - a private promise that was repeatedly delayed by their demanding schedules.

By 2018, the strain of their global fame and conflicting commitments appeared to take its toll, leading to the heartbreaking end of their whirlwind romance.

The Separation:

As 2018 drew to a close, GDragon offered fans an unfiltered glimpse into his world with the release of a raw and intimate tour documentary. Gone was the invincible K-pop icon - in his place stood a man unraveling, visibly fragile in the wake of both creative exhaustion and personal heartbreak. It was clear to the world: GDragon was at his lowest.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the spotlight, y/n's career was blazing brighter than ever. Her post-breakup album became a global phenomenon, striking a chord with millions of heartbroken souls who found solace in her words. With every award she accepted and every chart she topped, it was evident - the pain of her past was fuelling her rise.

Despite their individual successes, it was obvious that both stars were mourning the same love story, albeit in very different ways.

The Song:

As y/n’s career flourished, GDragon disappeared from the public eye to complete his mandatory military service - a quiet two-year stretch punctuated by rumours and speculation. During this time, y/n faced growing pressure from both media and fans to address her relationship status. After months of silence, she finally confirmed: there would be no reunion with her ex. She was seeing someone new.

Just two months after her public statement, GDragon released Still Life, a hauntingly reflective track that left fans dissecting every lyric, searching for traces of their once-iconic love story. And then - silence.

For both stars, the world went quiet.

The Speculation:

For years, their story seemed to have ended - until 2024 reignited the flame.

It remains unclear whether the former couple reconnected before that year’s MAMA Awards, but rumours exploded after the two were spotted making a swift and discreet exit from the afterparty - hand-in-hand.

Fans’ suspicions only grew weeks later, when GDragon introduced his newest family member to the world - a cat named Zoa. In the photo, a glimpse of a mystery woman sparked immediate speculation. Longtime fans were quick to draw comparisons to y/n, especially since the pair had famously adopted their first cat, Iye, together back in 2016.

The internet was buzzing - was this a new chapter, or the revival of a love story once thought to be over?

The Secret:

Then the world went into shock.

After years of piecing together their love story through cryptic lyrics, subtle stage moments, and whispered rumours, fans were finally gifted the ultimate confirmation - and it was a moment no one could have predicted.

Seven months after their unexpected reunion at the MAMA Awards, y/n returned to the stage alongside GDragon. Stepping into the spotlight, y/n's growing baby bump was impossible to miss, as was the sparkling diamond ring adorning her finger.

The revelation sent shockwaves through the industry, though perhaps the biggest clues had already been there for those willing to see them.

Just months earlier, GDragon had made a rare appearance on bandmate Daesung’s YouTube series, ZIPDAESUNG, where he teased his long-awaited comeback tour and album. During the chat, the rapper hinted at “major life changes” - and eagle-eyed fans couldn’t help but notice the simple wedding band now sitting comfortably on his finger. After years of playful hints and carefully guarded secrets... the world finally had its answers.

The couple then gave fans a performance for the ages - returning to the very song that first sparked their romance in 2015. This time, they weren’t just co-stars or collaborators. They stood side-by-side as husband and wife, performing their love story in front of the fans who had followed every twist and turn.

In August, the pair welcomed their daughter into the world - a new muse for their ongoing love story. Though they’ve shared glimpses of their life as parents on social media, they’ve chosen to keep their daughter’s face private, protecting her from the spotlight they know all too well.

Now, as they step into this new chapter together, one thing is clear: after years of heartbreak, healing, and finding their way back to each other, GDragon and y/n's love story is far from over.

We're glad to see that the two are happier than ever.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

starting to like making these social media posts but bOY do they take time

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure

[yeostinys]

My Dear Darling

Chapter 5

Pairing: Frat OT8!ATEEZ x Female Reader

Genre: Smut 18+, Fluff, Angst, Polyamorous Relationship!

Notes: NonIdol!AU, CollegeAU. Explicit language. Polyamorous Relationship, (if you are not into that just pls ignore)

Word Count: 8k

Synopsis: someone finds out about your relationship with ATZ. And the boys made an agreement amongst themselves?

Previous >>> Next Chapter

_____________________________________

The evening sun poured through the large window of your studio apartment, casting a warm golden glow that danced across the room. You sat on your soft, plush couch, surrounded by a chaotic array of notebooks, crumpled papers, and the persistent hum of your laptop. With a weary sigh, you leaned back, your shoulders heavy with the weight of the past five hours spent wrestling with a report for your internship.

You had always been the type to overwork, driven by an insatiable desire to excel in everything you undertook. Balancing school, work, and your social life had never been a challenge for you—until now. A sense of dread settled in your chest as you approached the report’s conclusion. You longed for relaxation, for a moment to breathe, to escape the demands of your responsibilities. Above all, you yearned to see your boyfriends, their laughter and warmth a distant echo in your mind.

But they were busy too, their own schedules packed with classes and commitments. You admired their relentless dedication to their studies, how they managed to immerse themselves in their work while still carving out time to enjoy life’s fleeting moments. As you thought of them, a swirl of emotions tugged at your heart—admiration mixed with a pang of guilt. You realized you hadn’t spent any real time alone with some of the ATZ boys lately, and the thought nagged at you.

Determined to push through, you glanced at your report, the words blurring together. Each sentence felt like a barrier between you and the fun, light-hearted evenings you craved. The idea of wrapping up your work propelled you forward. You could almost envision the laughter, the playful teasing, the joy of being with them. With renewed focus, you typed furiously, your fingers flying across the keyboard as you worked to complete the report, each keystroke a step closer to the moment you could finally leave the stress behind and reconnect with the people who made your heart race.

*Buzz*

The sound of the doorbell buzzed through the apartment, pulling you from your focus. You looked up from your laptop, curiosity igniting as you turned toward the door. Setting your device aside, you sprang from the couch, excitement thrumming in your chest.

Approaching the door, you peered through the peephole and felt a wide grin spread across your face. There was Jia, her eyes sparkling with mischief, balancing two cups of soda and a large takeout bag in her hands. Without a second thought, you swung the door open, unable to contain your joy.

“Jia!? What is this!?” you exclaimed, a delighted shriek escaping your lips as you pulled her inside, enveloping her in a warm hug.

“Aren’t I the bestest friend ever?” Jia struck a playful pose, her eyes dancing with energy as she handed you one of the drinks. You couldn’t help but giggle at her antics.

Together, you made your way to the kitchen island, sliding onto the barstools with a sense of camaraderie. The familiar sounds of wrappers crinkling and soda fizzing filled the air as you began to feast on the fast food spread before you.

“Okay, to be completely honest…” Jia turned toward you, a fry poised between her fingers, her expression suddenly serious yet playful. You leaned in closer,

“This is in celebration of me. I couldn’t tell you through text…” She paused, her grin widening as if about to share a great secret. You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of your soda, anticipation building.

“Okay…? What is it?” you prompted, eager for the scoop.

“Wonho and I… ARE OFFICIALLY DATING!” Jia shrieked, her voice ringing with glee. She playfully grabbed your legs, shaking them in excitement. Your eyes widened in surprise, a radiant smile breaking across your face.

“Shut up!?” you gasped, covering your mouth in disbelief. “YES!”

Jia burst into laughter, her joy infectious as she jumped in her seat, the sheer happiness radiating off her.

“Holy shit, finally! I’m so happy for you!” You beamed at her, your heart swelling with joy. “After who knows how long of you two messing around with each other, you finally made it official.” You stuffed a fry into your mouth, savoring the moment.

“Ugh, I know,” Jia sighed, her eyes dreamy. “Honestly, it was my fault. I was crazy scared of commitment. But something about Wonho changed me.” She giggled, a soft smile playing on her lips as she lost herself in thought.

You watched her, a fondness growing in your chest. “I’m happy for you Jia” you said with sincerity.

In that moment, your phone buzzed, interrupting the laughter between you two with the sudden notification. You glanced down, your heart skipping a beat as you saw a message from the group chat with ATZ.

Hongjoong: We are watching a movie tonight. Want to come over?

Yuyu: I’ll pick you up if you want, Y/N.

Mingi: Please come, we are watching a scary movie. I need you to hold me!

A warm smile crept across your face, and you quickly typed a response, excitement bubbling inside you.

Y/N: Jia’s over right now. I’ll try to come by later.

You looked up just in time to catch Jia eyeing you, her brow raised in curiosity as she took a sip of her fizzy soda. She leaned forward slightly, trying to peek at your screen, but you swiftly closed your phone, feigning innocence.

“Who’s got you smiling like an idiot?” she teased, squinting her eyes with playful suspicion.

“What? No one…” you replied, hastily shoving a fry into your mouth as a distraction.

“Nice try, Y/N. You’re hiding something,” Jia declared, her playful glare intensifying.

“I know when you’re lying. Who’s got your attention?” She reached for your phone, but you instinctively snatched it away, your heart racing.

“You are hiding something!” Jia exclaimed, her tone half-joking, half-serious. Without missing a beat, she jumped to conclusions. “Oh my god, is it Wooyoung?!”

You froze, stunned into silence.

“IT IS! I remember, I literally saw you two grinding on each other at the party!” Jia grabbed your shoulders, shaking you in excitement. You scrunched your face in defeat, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Or is it Yunho? I remember you had a crush on him a few summers ago, and you two have been talking a lot again,” Jia continued, her excitement bubbling over as she pulled back, tapping her chin in thought.

“Jia, please!” you exclaimed, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation, though amusement danced in your eyes. You couldn’t help but laugh at her ability to connect the dots, despite her notoriously short attention span.

“Okay, okay… I’m sorry,” she said softly, pressing her lips together as she stared at you expectantly.

You bit your lip, contemplating how much to reveal. “We’ve just gotten really close, that’s all,” you finally said, taking a sip of your soda to buy time.

“We?” Jia’s eyebrow shot up. “Who’s ‘we’?” She leaned against the counter, clearly intrigued.

“All of ATZ…” you mumbled, unable to meet her gaze.

“All of ATZ?!” Jia’s voice rose an octave as she covered her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. “Wait… is that why you’ve been hanging out with them so much?”

You nodded, trying to suppress the nervousness bubbling in your stomach.

“I’m confused, though. Why so suddenly?” Jia pressed, her brow furrowing in genuine concern.

“Uh… I’ve just recently become their Fraternity sweetheart…” you confessed hesitantly.

“Really?” Jia sounded unconvinced, her eyebrow arched.

“Yes,” you insisted, trying to sound confident despite your nerves.

“Y/N, ATZ never had sweethearts before! And you’ve been asked by so many other frats to be their sweetheart but always declined—until now. So what’s really going on?” Jia’s tone turned serious, her concern palpable. You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of her scrutiny.

“Jia…” you began, meeting her gaze. She could see the distress in your eyes. “I need you to keep an open mind about this, and… promise me it stays between us.”

Jia nodded, her expression earnest as she took your hands in hers. “Yes, of course.”

“I’m… dating…” you paused, heart racing. Jia’s eyes widened, and she gasped dramatically.

“SAN?!” she shouted, her voice nearly shrill. “I THOUGHT YOU HATED HIM?!”

“Jia! Let me explain!!!” You threw your head back in frustration, feeling the rush of emotions bubble over.

“Okay, okay… I’m sorry,” Jia said, her voice softening as she pressed her lips into a thin line.

“I’m dating… all of them,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jia’s eyes widened further in disbelief. “You’re messing with me,” she said, laughing nervously.

“I’m not, I’m serious…” you replied, looking down, unable to meet her incredulous gaze.

“Since when?” she asked, her tone shifting to calm curiosity.

“We’ve only been dating for a few weeks. They all confessed their feelings and wanted a polyamorous relationship. I was just as shocked as you are. I didn’t think I’d ever be in a relationship like this, but I really do like all of them…” Your voice trembled as you spoke, fear of judgment gripping you. Jia blinked in surprise, then broke into a chuckle.

“Wow… eight boyfriends. How fucken lucky are you”

Relief washed over you, and you leaned in for a hug, closing your eyes as you let out a sigh. “Oh my god, I thought you were going to judge me and dump me as a friend.”

“Me? Oh, Y/N-ie. You’re my best friend, and I support you in anything and everything you want to do.” She pulled back, smiling warmly. “Your secret relationship with them is safe with me.”

Holding out her pinky, Jia grinned. You chuckled at her gesture and interlocked your fingers.

“Thank you, Jia…” you said, feeling a wave of gratitude.

“So, I’m going to need all the details on this. Because damn, ALL OF THEM WANT YOU?!” she exclaimed, her witty self returning. “That’s actually so crazy because now that I think about it, you have liked almost all of them at least once!”

You laughed, the tension from earlier dissipating as you launched into a detailed account of how your relationship with ATZ began. The two of you migrated to the couch, popping a bottle of wine and filling your glasses with the rich red liquid, as you sipped and shared everything—their dynamic, your feelings, the whirlwind of emotions that had led you to this point. You appreciated how open-minded Jia was, her laughter ringing true without a hint of judgment.

“Wait, Y/N, I just realized,” she interjected, holding up a hand to pause your story. “I thought you and San had beef since high school?”

You bit your lip, the memories flooding back.

“It’s complicated… I was confused too when I found out he liked me.” You took a sip of wine, gathering your thoughts. “I can’t deny I’ve always had feelings for him. There’s obviously something unresolved between us, but he cares for me—I can see it when we’re together. He’s just so confusing.”

Jia raised an eyebrow, sipping her wine thoughtfully.

“Hmm, interesting.” She glanced at her phone, a smile breaking across her face. “Oh! Wonho’s off work!”

Jia set her glass down, bouncing with excitement. “I’m going to head out.”

You stood up with her, laughter bubbling between you as you walked to the door. She turned to face you one last time.

“My Y/N~ thank you for opening up to me about this. Everything is safe with me. I’m so happy for you. But if any one of them hurts you, I will kill them,” she said, her eyes serious as she held your shoulders.

You nodded, laughing at her fierce loyalty. “Thank you, Jia.”

“Bye now! Love ya!” she called as she stepped out, waving enthusiastically.

“Love ya!” you shouted back, chuckling as you closed the door behind her.

———

After bidding Jia farewell, you turn and stroll back to the couch, the soft fabric welcoming you as you reach for your phone. Your fingers tap the screen as you open the group chat with ATZ, a familiar wave of excitement washing over you. You quickly type a message, letting them know you're on your way, then glance at your reflection in the nearby mirror. A few swift touches—smooth hair, a quick spritz of your favorite fragrance—make you feel a little more put together. Slipping into your shoes, you feel a tingle of anticipation, ready to step out into the evening.

Just as you’re about to grab your bag, your phone rings, the sound slicing through the air. You glance down to see San’s name flashing on the screen. Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but smile as you press the green button to answer.

“Hi, San,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’m almost at your place. Just wait for me. I’ll come get you,” he replies, his tone calm and reassuring.

“You didn’t have to—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I was at the convenience store near your apartment getting snacks when you texted. It’s no big deal,” he explains, the warmth in his voice easing your initial surprise.

“Okay…” you say, feeling a mix of gratitude and a hint of annoyance that you didn’t get to argue your point.

“I’ll let you know when I’m here,” he adds, and before you can respond, the line goes dead.

Settling back onto the couch, you keep your phone close, glancing at it occasionally as the minutes tick by. Time seems to stretch, the anticipation building until you hear a firm knock on your door. You leap up from the soft cushions, your heart racing as you rush to the door. Peering through the peephole, you catch sight of San, you quickly open the door.

“San, you didn’t have to walk all the way up here. I could’ve just met you down in the lobby,” you say sheepishly.

“It’s alright. Let’s go,” he replies with a smirk, playfully ruffling your hair. The gesture sends a flush of warmth to your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile back.

As he turns to walk away, you follow behind him, still nervous as ever.

———

The walk to the ATZ house was enveloped in a serene quietness, the kind that felt both comfortable and charged with unspoken words. The air was thick with familiarity, as if the very atmosphere had normal between you and San. He strode slightly ahead of you with a long, effortless gait, his tall figure casting a protective shadow over your smaller frame. San’s hand slipped into the pocket of his jeans, while the other grasped a crinkled black plastic bag filled to the brim with an array of snacks and drinks. His focus was fixed on the path ahead, but you found yourself stealing glances at him, lost in admiration—his strong jawline accentuated by the late afternoon sun, his perfect nose. Just as you began to lose yourself in those thoughts, his voice cut through the silence.

“Is there something on my face?” he asked nonchalantly, an eyebrow quirking up as his eyes flicked toward you. Your heart raced, and you felt your cheeks warm as you diverted your gaze forward. San chuckled lightly, and you both continued your walk.

With your eyes cast forward, you recalled your earlier conversation with Jia—a conversation that now felt like it held the weight of the world. She now knows your relationship dynamic with ATZ. You should have talked to the boys first, but Jia was your best friend, and the pressure to keep such a vital piece of information under wraps had been intense. The thoughts loomed over you as you continued walking in silence.

Suddenly, the tranquility of the moment shattered as you felt a sharp tug on your arm. Before you could comprehend what was happening, you found yourself enveloped in San’s arms. Your heart pounded as you looked up, only to see a biker whizzing past, careening dangerously close to you.

“What an asshole,” San muttered, his face darkening with concern as he glared at the cyclist. The unexpected warmth of his embrace took you by surprise, and for a moment, you were frozen in place.

“Are you okay?” San asked, his voice dropping to a serious tone as he looked down at you, instinctively releasing his hold. Nodding in response, you remained silent, feeling the lingering effects of his touch.

“Did you not hear the biker ringing his bell? You looked so lost in thought; I had to pull you aside,” he noted, his gaze steady and penetrating, eyebrows raised in a gentle challenge.

“Sorry… I didn’t hear,” you murmured, guilt creeping into your tone.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?” San inquired softly, his voice inviting you to share your burden. You felt caught in his gaze once more, the intensity of his attention forcing you to look away.

“Sannie…” The nickname slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. It shocked you, yet it felt so natural—a small sweetness in the tension of the moment. San’s heart quickened at the sound, and he bit his lip, attempting to regain some semblance of composure.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, his tone gentler now, reaching out to grasp your wrist, sending a rush of warmth through you. The endearment made you blush, and your eyes widened at the unexpected intimacy.

“I told Jia about our relationship,” you admitted softly, looking down to hide the uncertainty in your eyes. His expression shifted, surprise flitting across his face before he smiled, easing the knot of tension inside you.

“Is that it?” he lifted your chin, compelling you to look at him. You nodded, feeling small under the weight of his gaze. “I just couldn’t keep it from her any longer. She’s like my sister and deserved to know. I’m sorry…” you let the words tumble out, a sense of shame creeping into your voice.

“Why are you sorry?” San asked, his brow furrowed slightly with curiosity.

“I felt like I should’ve talked about it with you guys first before telling her. It’s your guys relationship too. But she swore not to tell anyone! Regardless, I’m sorry if I crossed the line,” you explained, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/N, it’s okay.” San chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “It’s just Jia. If you trust her, so do we. Plus, we told you before—whenever you're ready to let anyone know, we will be ready too.” He ruffled your hair playfully, and relief washed over you like a cool breeze on a scorching day.

“Okay…” you replied, staring at your feet for a moment before hesitantly meeting his gaze again. “Can you help me tell the others that I told Jia?” You clasped your hands together, looking at him with hopeful, doe-like eyes. He raised an eyebrow, wearing a bemused expression as he nodded.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” He resumed walking, and you hurried to keep pace at his side.

Your heart swelled with warmth at the softness of your interaction, something that felt rare and precious between the two of you. How unexpectedly sweet it had been. It was as if a curtain had lifted, revealing the deeper elements of your relationship—elements that were often obscured by playful teasing and banter.

Yet, beneath that sweetness lingered confusion. With the other members, interactions had flowed naturally and easily, but with San, everything felt more complex. He held an alluring mix of playful charm and guarded distance. You wanted to understand him better—the man who could swing between being aloof and tender. You recalled that lingering moment from that night not long ago when San had cried, clearly from being too drunk. His constant words of “hurting you” was a statement that lingered in your thoughts, especially when paired with the memory of his endearing, clingy demeanor due to too many drinks. A quiet giggle slipped from your lips as you remembered drunk San, and he turned to you, curiosity piqued.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, an eyebrow raising in question.

You couldn’t help but smile wider at his genuine interest. “Sannie, do you remember anything from the night of XIK’s party?” You tilted your head, batting your eyelashes innocently at him.

“Yeah, why?” he replied, sounding a bit suspicious but intrigued.

“Well, do you remember anything from when we got home?” Your words danced in the air, teasing him playfully.

“Just tell me, Y/N. I don’t want to play guessing games,” he insisted, crossing his arms and facing you.

“Hm, drunk San is much nicer to me,” you retorted, giving a light roll of your eyes as you looked away, feeling confident in your teasing.

San released his crossed arms, his exasperated sigh punctuating the air. “Just tell me what I did, please,” he pleaded.

“Nothing much, you were just super clingy and kept asking for me,” you teased, walking away from him. “And you were a cry baby” You laughed as you picked up pace, the small distance between you growing with your mischievous retreat.

San’s eyes widened in shock as he followed behind you. “I what?” he called out, a mix of disbelief and genuine curiosity in his voice.

Just as you approached the front door of the ATZ house, you could hardly contain your laughter as you felt the exhilaration of the moment. Before you could even reach for the door handle, San gripped your wrist and pulled you back toward him, his eyes narrowing with playful intensity.

“What do you mean I was a cry baby?” he asked, his expression a mix of faux annoyance and genuine concern. You looked up, your heart thudding as you found yourself caught in the intimacy of his gaze.

Flustered, you glanced away. “You tripped over yourself, causing both of us to bump into the wall. Well, mostly me, since I hit my head,” you recounted, your tone casual. “Then you started crying when you saw I was hurt, and you kept saying, ‘Why do I keep hurting you?’” You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in amusement.

San’s face shifted from incredulity to a flustered blush, the color flooding to his cheeks. He dropped your wrist, his shoulders tense as he turned away quickly, clearing his throat. The playful banter you had expected dimmed into a sudden seriousness, and confusion washed over you.

“What?” You nervously chuckled. You had expected laughter, maybe even some playful rebuttal, but instead, his sudden shift to seriousness left you frowning.

“It’s nothing” His lips tightened, and without another word, he hastily opened the front door and stepped inside, leaving you standing there, bewildered. You followed him into the house, feeling a sense of confusion from him like always.

———

Following closely behind San, you step into the dimly lit living room, where the flickering glow of the television casts elongated shadows across the walls. The boys are already engrossed in the horror movie, completely unaware of your presence.

In the corner of your eye, you spot Mingi, his form hunched over a pillow as he shields himself from the on-screen action. A smile spreads across your face, as you position yourself behind him. With a sudden burst of energy, you grab his shoulders and shout, “Boo!”

Mingi lets out a high-pitched scream that echoes through the room, nearly tumbling off the couch in his shock. Seonghwa and Wooyoung, caught off guard, join in with their own shrieks, creating a cacophony of startled yelps. Jongho and Yunho who were clearly unfazed, barely contain their laughter, while Hongjoong and Yeosang flinch, their faces a mix of surprise and confusion.

You can’t help but burst into laughter, the sound infectious as you reach out to Mingi, who is still wide-eyed, his face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and relief.

“Y/N!~” he whines, clutching his chest as if to calm his racing heart.

The rest of the boys are doubled over with laughter, their joy contagious. San rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile as he places the bags of snacks onto the coffee table.

“I’m sorry, Min! I didn’t think you’d actually get scared,” you manage between giggles, gently running your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him.

“Well, hello to you too, baby,” Wooyoung says with an exaggerated drawl, clutching his chest as if your scare had truly wounded him. A playful giggle escapes your lips as you glide around to his sitting figure, his dramatic flair only adding to the moment’s hilarity.

“I’m so sorry, Woo,” you reply, laughter bubbling up again as you lean down and wrap your arms around his neck in a warm embrace. He responds instantly, his arms encircling your waist, pulling you closer as he snuggles his face into your chest. You can feel the warmth of his breath, and it makes your heart swell with affection.

Turning your attention, you notice Seonghwa watching you, a shy smile gracing his lips, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Did I scare you too, Hwa?” you ask, releasing Wooyoung’s hold and moving toward him. You can’t resist brushing your fingers through his hair, a gesture that always seems to ease any embarrassment he might feel.

“I was scared too,” Yunho pipes up, raising his hand as if he’s in a classroom, a teasing grin plastered across his face.

“Me too!” Yeosang chimes in, his big, doe-like eyes wide with mock innocence as he looks up at you, adding to the playful atmosphere.

You laugh at their playful banter, shaking your head in disbelief. “Alright, alright! I’m sorry for interrupting the movie,” you say, feigning seriousness as you gesture dramatically toward the screen. “Let’s get back to it!”

With a bright smile, you plop down between Mingi and Seonghwa, feeling the comfortable warmth of their presence. The room settles back into a cozy atmosphere, laughter still echoing softly as you all turn your attention to the flickering screen.

Your head nestled against Seonghwa’s shoulder, the warmth of his presence a steady comfort as you both sat engrossed in the flickering glow of the screen before you. The soft light illuminated your faces, casting gentle shadows that danced across the room. A cozy blanket was draped over your legs, its fabric soft against your skin, partially overlapping with Seonghwa’s and Mingi’s.

Seonghwa's arm hung casually around your shoulders, his presence a protective anchor that made you feel at ease. You could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breath, a rhythmic reassurance in the quiet space. Meanwhile, Mingi sat on the other side, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh.

As the movie droned on, the initial thrill began to fade, replaced by an almost comical absurdity that made the horror elements feel more ridiculous than terrifying. The once-terrifying scenes now elicited only faint chuckles and eye rolls from you. You felt your attention slipping away, a dull ache of boredom creeping in.

With a slight huff, you shifted your position on the couch, gently lifting your head from Seonghwa’s shoulder. The warmth that had enveloped you receded slightly, but Seonghwa’s arm stayed firmly around you, a comforting presence that anchored you even as you sought a better angle to see the screen. You leaned back, glancing at him with a soft smile, but his focus remained on the movie, his brow slightly furrowed as if trying to will the story to become engaging again.

Mingi, sensing your shift, let his hand slide higher on your thigh, a subtle gesture that sent a wave of warmth through you. The light touch was both casual and deliberate, igniting a spark of electricity in the air between you. You couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, his eyes still glued to the screen, yet there was an unmistakable teasing glint in them that made your heart race.

You gazed around the room, the flickering glow of the television illuminated the faces of the boys. Some of them were completely absorbed, their eyes glued to the unfolding drama, while others started scrolling through their phones, just as equally bored of the movie.

You try to bring your focus back onto the screen, but it was difficult with the feeling of Mingi’s fingertips sliding gently against the soft fabric of your tights, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver coursing through your body. Your heart raced, and your breath hitched as you sensed a shift in Mingi's intentions. His pinky finger—light and teasing—traced a line just below your hip, hovering between casualness and something far more intimate. The sensation of his touch resonated through you, igniting a warmth that crept up your spine and spread through your entire being.

Seonghwa glanced at you, his gaze sharp and teasing, as he caught the flustered expression on your face, cheeks painted a deep crimson. A playful smirk crept across his lips as he detected Mingi’s hand moving persistently beneath the soft fabric of the blanket. Seonghwa’s eyes followed the trajectory of Mingi’s fingers, and he couldn’t help but study the way your body responded, the gentle rise and fall of your chest betraying the electric sensations coursing through you.

A wave of envy washed over him—the way Mingi seemed to effortlessly elicit such reactions from you. Unable to resist the urge to convey his own affection, Seonghwa shifted closer, his hand brushing against your shoulder. He let his fingers gently knead the delicate muscles there. He leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your temple before allowing his hand to drift down to the nape of your neck. His fingertips began to massage you, sending unexpected shivers racing through your body like wildfire.

Mingi, ever perceptive, caught the way you instinctively reacted to his touch. He could feel the heat radiating from between your thighs, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. Suddenly, you let out a soft gasp—a sound that cut through the ambient noise of the television—as Mingi’s fingers brushed against you again, teasing and exploring the warmth hidden beneath the blanket.

Both men exchanged looks, their eyes locking for a moment, an unspoken understanding passing between them. They shared a smirk, one that held the promise of continued teasing, before their gazes dropped back to you.

Your face was a striking shade of red, as if you were caught in a sunset, and you bit your bottom lip in an attempt to focus on the screen, fighting against the distractions pulling you under. Mingi leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, his deep voice low and teasing. You nodded shyly, refusing to turn your head to meet his gaze, a gesture that only fueled the fire of their amusement.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he observed your reaction.

“You sure, darling? You keep moving,” he teased, his voice vibrating through your core, making your blush deepen as you diverted your gaze down to your lap.

“Mm, I’m okay…” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, desperate to avoid drawing attention from the others in the room.

“Okay…” they both echoed back, their voices a perfect duet.

They admired your side profile, the curve of your jaw, the flutter of your eyelashes, and, without a second thought, they leaned in closer. Their lips brushed against your cheeks at the same time, a tender, simultaneous gesture that sent your heart racing. Your eyes widened in surprise, your breath hitching at the unexpected contact. Heat flooded your entire face.

Seonghwa pulled away slightly, his chuckle a low rumble that vibrated in the air, a sound that only made you flush more. Mingi, with a devilish glint in his eye, peppered a few more playful kisses along your cheek and down towards your neck, each one igniting your skin with warmth before he finally turned his head back towards the screen. Seonghwa followed suit, his gaze returning to the flickering images in front of you, but not before stealing another glance at you, admiration written across his features.

Without noticing, the film reached its conclusion. The screen faded to black before the end credits began to roll, accompanied by a sudden, loud exhale from Jongho. As he stood up from the couch, a sweeping wave of disappointment washed over him. “What a dumb ass movie,” he declared, flicking the light switch on and flooding the room with dim illumination.

“I agree,” chimed in Yunho, stretching his arms above his head, his voice resonating with an air of relaxed camaraderie. “It was good for the first thirty minutes, but then it just started getting weird.”

You shifted on the couch, pushing yourself upright as you cleared your throat, feeling a warm flush creeping up your cheeks, a remnant of Seonghwa and Mingi’s earlier teasing. Their playful banter had left you flustered and disoriented.

“You okay, Y/N?” Yeosang asked, concern etched in his features as he turned his gaze to you. Your eyes widened at his inquiry, and a nervous laugh slipped from your lips. “Oh, yeah! I’m okay,” you replied, forcing a smile, hoping to mask the storm of emotions swirling within.

“You sure, baby? Your face is all red,” Yeosang observed, leaning in closer to get a better look at you. The softness of his tone sent a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Ah, I’m just thirsty,” you stammered, grasping at the excuse like a lifeline, desperate to sidestep the palpable tension that had been lingering between Seonghwa and Mingi and you.

As if sensing your unease, Yeosang rose from the couch, adopting the grace of a gentleman. “Let’s go get you some water,” he suggested, extending his hand toward you. You felt your cheeks heat even more as you reached out, taking his hand. A soft thrill coursed through you as warmth enveloped your skin.

As you stood, you felt Seonghwa's and Mingi's hands brush against you, a reminder of their earlier closeness, but you stepped away, allowing Yeosang to guide you toward the kitchen. The cool tiles beneath your feet contrasted with the heat still lingering in the air.

———

Yeosang moved purposefully, grabbing a glass and filling it with water before handing it to you.

“Thanks, Yeo,” you murmured, taking a few sips, the cool liquid refreshing against your lips. After handing the glass back to him, Yeosang smiled, and without a moment's pause, he finished the remainder, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

Yeosang placed the empty glass on the counter behind you, ruffling your hair playfully as he moved closer. You suddenly found yourself against the sleek marble table, trapped in the warm orbit of his presence. “You still flustered from Mingi and Seonghwa kissing you?” he teased, his husky voice wrapping around you like an intoxicating melody. Your blush deepened, and you turned your head away, feeling exposed.

“You saw?” you asked softly, catching a glimpse of his playful yet serious expression.

“Oh baby, all of us saw,” Yeosang chuckled, tenderly pulling your chin back until your eyes met his. His hands slipped to your hips, thumbs drawing gentle circles on your skin. The intimate gesture ignited a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, and instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck, finding comfort in his embrace.

“You know, I’d never thought you’d be this much of a teaser,” you remarked, your fingers finding their way into his hair, playing absentmindedly. “You’re such a gentleman, yet you tease so much” you add with a giggle.

He lowered his head slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked back up at you. “I’m only like this towards the people I really like.” The sincerity in his voice wrapped around your heart, and his hands traveled higher on your waist, his caresses sending electrifying tingles through you.

“So, are there other girls that get to see this side of you?” you pretended to pout, a playful challenge that earned a bright smile from him.

“No, no. You’re the only girl that gets to see this side of me. I was just talking about the guys… my family. I’m more comfortable with you all, and I can be myself,” Yeosang continued, his gaze scanning your face before lingering on your soft lips.

“I’m glad I can be one of those people, then,” you whispered softly, feeling an undeniable connection with him.

“May I?” Yeosang asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Your heart raced as you nodded in response. And before you could fully process what was happening, his warm, soft lips were pressed against yours. The kiss was tender yet deep, an exquisite blend of passion and sweet affection. Each movement was slow, deliberate, as if he were crafting a work of art, and you felt yourself melting into him, intoxicated by the moment.

When he finally pulled away, you whimpered softly, reluctant to break the blissful intimacy. Yeosang chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your lips, before planting gentle kisses along your cheek. He trailed down to your neck, eliciting a gasp from you as you surrendered to the sensation of his warm breath and soft kisses.

“Y-Yeo…” you stuttered, your eyes fluttering shut as you surrendered to the pleasure coursing through you. He continued to explore your skin, moving from your neck to your collarbone, his touch igniting your senses.

“Damn Yeo, are you trying to devour her?” The teasing voice of Jongho interrupted the sacred moment. You gasped, turning your head to see him standing in the doorframe with a smug smirk.

“Fuck off,” Yeosang muttered against your skin, refusing to let his lips leave you even for a moment.

With a playful glint in his eyes, Jongho ventured further into the kitchen, a mischievous smile on his face as he approached you. “You enjoying this, pretty?” he asked softly, brushing his fingers through your hair, sending currents of warmth spiraling through you. You nodded, unable to form words, your breath hitching in your throat. The sound of chuckles vibrated around you from both boys—Jongho’s and Yeosang’s—as Yeosang’s lips continued their descent lower.

Jongho cupped your cheek, tilting your face toward him before pressing his own soft lips against your forehead. His kisses trailed down your skin, lingering on your cheek before finally finding your lips, weaving a tender yet fervent kiss that made your heart race.

As desire swelled within you, you whimpered into the kiss, overwhelmed by the sensations wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The knowledge of what you had signed up for in this polyamorous relationship danced in the corner of your mind, but nothing could prepare you for the heady rush of being kissed by two of your boyfriends simultaneously.

Yeosang shifted slightly, giving Jongho room to deepen the kiss. His hands found their way around your back, holding you close, anchoring you in the moment.

“O-oh God,” you gasped, overwhelmed by the intimacy of it all as Yeosang smiled against your skin, playfully biting you.

“Alright, enough, you two” A new voice broke through the haze, and you turned to see Hongjoong grinning at the scene before him, his smirk playful yet admonishing. “Let Y/N breathe,” he added, stepping forward to pull Yeosang and Jongho off you gently.

Both Jongho and Yeosang exhaled in exaggerated sighs, their lips glossy and flushed like yours, a mirrored reflection of the intoxicating atmosphere you’d been engulfed in moments before.

“Fuck, if you wanted a taste, you could’ve just joined us,” Jongho joked, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he caught Hongjoong’s gaze. Yeosang chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement as he took in your flushed face, still reeling from the whirlwind of emotion.

“For you two being the most quiet members, you’re so perverted,” Hongjoong laughed, rolling his eyes in exaggerated exasperation. He reached for your hand, a soft smile brightening his features. “Come on, let’s go. I want to show you something.”

Despite the heat still radiating in your cheeks from the flustered makeout session, you managed to nod softly, curiosity replacing the dizzying warmth in your chest as Hongjoong pulled you out of the kitchen, leaving a trail of lingering whispers and shared glances behind you.

———

Hongjoong's hand slipped into yours as he led you up the staircase, a warmth spreading between your fingers. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated the narrow hallway, painting everything in a cozy light. You felt a flutter of excitement in your chest, wondering what he had planned. Suddenly, Hongjoong turned to you, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What did you want to show me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, curious yet hesitant.

He leaned closer, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle hug, pulling you snugly against him. “Hm, nothing much,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I just wanted you to myself.” As he buried his face into the crook of your neck, you could feel the warmth radiating off him, mingling with your own. Laughter bubbled up from within you as you pressed against him, enjoying the closeness.

“I don’t like sharing,” Hongjoong mumbled into your skin, his breath tickling you. You pulled back slightly, confusion etching across your face as you searched his gaze.

“Joong… what do you mean?” you asked, furrowing your brows in curiosity.

Hongjoong chuckled softly, tenderly cupping your face in his hands. His thumb lightly stroked your cheek, a calmness washing over you. “Not like that, baby,” he assured you, his voice a low murmur. “I just meant that I want us to be alone when it comes to being more intimate”

You tilted your head, pondering his words. “But you always hug and give me kisses in front of everyone?” you pointed out, slightly baffled.

“Yeah, I know…” He leaned in ever so closer, his warm breath washing over your face as he spoke. “…but those are quick hugs and quick kisses.” His voice dropped to a whisper, intimate and charged. “This time… I want to take my time.”

With each word, his lips hovered tantalizingly close to yours, barely brushing against your skin. A hitch caught in your throat at his teasing. His nose nudged playfully against yours, leaving you yearning for more. The anticipation made you whine softly, a plea for him to deepen the connection.

“Joong, don’t tease me,” you whispered, feeling a heat creep up your cheeks at the thought of everyone’s earlier teasing. “Everyone has been at it today…” The complaint tumbled from your lips, desperate for his touch.

"Okay, okay, sorry," Hongjoong chuckled, pulling away with a sheepish grin. "But on a serious note, there’s something I want to show you."

You raised an eyebrow, curious. "What is it?"

Hongjoong’s eyes lit up with a spark of excitement as he gestured toward his desk. He stood, walking around to your side and guiding you gently to the cushioned chair in front of his computer. "Sit here," he said softly, his voice warm as he pulled the chair closer to the screen, making sure you were comfortable.

He hovered for a moment behind you, his arm gently resting across your shoulders as he reached for the mouse. You could feel the weight of his touch, warm and reassuring, as he moved the cursor across the screen with careful precision.

"Do you remember that song I was working on in the library?" he asked, his voice filled with an almost shy anticipation.

You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze, your eyes briefly flicking from his face to the screen before responding. "Yeah, I remember."

Hongjoong smiled, a soft, almost secretive curve of his lips that made your heart flutter. "I finished it," he murmured, his fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before he clicked open a file. "I want you to listen to it."

He grabbed a pair of headphones from the side of the desk and gently placed them over your ears. His hands lingered there for just a moment, his fingers brushing your skin so lightly it almost felt like a whisper. You tried not to think too much about it as he clicked the spacebar to play the track.

The soft hum of music filled your ears, and immediately, your body relaxed into the melody. The beat was gentle, the lyrics intimate, drawing you in with every note. Your heart seemed to sync with the rhythm, beating in time with the music. There was something about the song—something in the way it made you feel like the world had momentarily slowed down, like you were wrapped in the warmth of his sound. The lyrics spoke of love, of longing, of dreams and promises, and as the final verse came to a close, you felt a lump in your throat.

When the song ended, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You pulled the headphones from your ears, turning toward Hongjoong with a bright, genuine smile.

He was looking at you nervously, his lips pressed into a tight line, waiting for your reaction. "How was it?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability as he took the headphones from your hands and set them on the desk.

You didn’t hesitate. "Joong, it’s beautiful. I love it so much," you said, your voice thick with sincerity, as your heart swelled with emotion. "It’s incredible."

Hongjoong let out a small, nervous laugh, his cheeks turning pink as he rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away. "You can be honest, Y/N. If you didn’t like it, it’s okay."

You shook your head, leaning forward a bit. "Hongjoong, I’m serious! This song is so good! I need it on my phone—like, right now," you said with a playful giggle, reaching out for his hands, desperate to hold onto some piece of him, some connection to the music that felt like it had touched your soul.

Hongjoong’s smile softened, and he reached for your hands, his fingers interlacing with yours. "I’m submitting this for my final project," he said, his voice now a little quieter, tinged with something deeper. He looked at you, his gaze both tender and earnest. "And I just wanted to tell you... thank you."

You blinked, confused. "Why are you thanking me?" you asked, your voice a little breathless from the intensity of the moment.

Hongjoong’s smile grew even more gentle, and he leaned in slightly, his voice barely a whisper. "You helped me finish it. You’re my muse." His words hung in the air, simple yet profound, and your heart skipped a beat.

You felt your cheeks warm, a flush creeping across your face as his words settled into your chest. "Hongjoong..." you whispered, the weight of his sentiment making you feel both overwhelmed and cherished all at once.

Without thinking, you stood up from the chair, your legs suddenly feeling unsteady as the emotions swirled inside you. You stepped toward him, closing the gap between you, and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a gentle embrace. The scent of him—a mix of clean cologne and something distinctly him—filled your senses, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"What did I do to deserve you guys?" you whispered, your voice shaky with a mix of awe and gratitude.

Hongjoong’s arms immediately encircled your waist, pulling you closer, his body warm and solid against yours. His grip was firm, as though he never wanted to let go. You both stood there for a long moment, the world outside the room fading away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the space you shared.

You rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling with his as you looked down toward his lips.

“Kiss me,” you whispered out, longing for his touch. He smirked, the mischievous gleam in his eyes igniting a flame deep inside you, as he finally devoured your lips.

The connection was electric—soft yet maddeningly intense. The room filled with the wet sounds of your lips moving in a passionate dance, your breaths melding together in the heat of the moment. Hongjoong’s hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer, as your own arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

You stumbled backward, your legs brushing against the soft edge of his bed, collapsing onto the plush mattress with a soft 'thud.'

“Fuck, Y/N,” Hongjoong murmured against your lips, eyes glazed with desire. You responded instinctively, deepening the kiss, refusing to let go. His knees pressed against your waist, pinning you down as the two of you continued your heated exploration of each other's mouths.

“Baby, wait—” Hongjoong panted, caught off guard as your kisses trailed from his lips to his cheek and down his jawline. You ignored him, your lips marking their path towards his neck—inviting and tempting.

“Y/N…” His voice was a strained whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel his control slipping as he groaned, quickly catching your wrists and pinning them above your head. The confusion in your gaze made him gulp.

“I said wait, darling.” His voice was softer now, leaning down to place a gentle peck on your lips. “Let’s not move too fast…” The sincerity in his gaze made your heart flutter, but you felt the throbbing heat of desire coursing through your veins.

“No… it’s okay, Joong… I want to,” you replied softly, uncertainty mingling with determination as you pouted.

“Fuck, baby, I know. So do I.” He sighed, the weight of the moment evident in his expression. He released your wrists, his hands resting on the mattress beside you as he tried to collect himself.

“Then let’s do it…” you whispered, leaning closer. The raw yearning in your voice hung heavily in the air.

“We can’t, baby… not yet,” he hissed, shifting away from you. Panic surged deep within, and you sat up, the distance between you feeling unbearable.

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely breaking the silence. Hongjoong gazed at you, concern etched across his handsome face, as he cupped your cheeks—his caress gentle and reassuring.

“I don’t want you to think I’m just trying to sleep with you. As much as you may think I’m not, it’s just as important for me. I— We, want to show you that we really care for you.” He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his affection creating a comforting bubble around you. “The boys and I agreed to not do anything just yet, okay baby?”

His genuine honesty struck a chord in your heart, the ache of warmth spreading through you. You nodded, a soft smile emerging despite the lament of pent-up desire.

“Okay…” you said softly, and Hongjoong smiled back, capturing your lips once again in a gentle kiss, his hands finding their way to your lap.

Then, without meaning to, his fingers brushed against the fabric of your tights, and an immediate awareness rushed over him. The dampness beneath his fingertips sent shockwaves through your system. He paused, pulling back to assess you, his eyes widening with realization.

“Fuck, you got that wet just from kissing?” His voice was thick with surprise, as his fingers tapped against the moist fabric, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

“Joong~,” you gasped, embarrassment flooding you. Heat rushed to your cheeks.

“Remind me, who kissed you tonight?” Hongjoong began drawing lazy patterns against the damp patch, teasing you relentlessly. Your tongue felt tied with embarrassment, and you couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

“Tell me, baby,” he whispered, the smirk on his lips telling you he wasn’t letting you off the hook.

“Mingi… Hwa… Jongho… and Yeo…” you whimpered, the confession rolling off your tongue. The teasing darkness in his eyes flared with satisfaction.

“And?” he pressed, his lips ghosting over yours.

“And you…” you admitted, your voice barely a breath.

“I can’t leave you all pent up like this, huh, baby?” Hongjoong murmured, his voice low and sultry, teasing with intent.

“Wouldn’t be very good of me as your boyfriend, now would it?” he continued, playful yet serious.

“I thought you said we can’t do it…” you whimpered, the confusion heating your cheeks even more.

“Yeah… but the boys and I only agreed to actual intercourse.” His lips found your neck, planting soft kisses that sent tingling shivers down your spine. “Never said anything about touching you… with my fingers.”

He pulled away just enough to whisper against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Want me to touch you, darling?”

Your heart raced at the tenderness in his voice as you felt the thrill of anticipation rush through you. “Y-yes, please,” you breathed, tilting your neck instinctively to give him more access. You could barely contain the yearning, the desperate need building inside you, and as his fingers danced along the fabric of your clothing, you knew this night was far from over.

end of chapter 5….

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Author’s note: FINALLY! I know I’m sorry for the super long wait 🥲. I was so busy this past month! Anyways I hope you all like this chapter😝✋. Chapter 6 will be out soon!

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[badgalsasuke]

Something I love about Kishimoto's writing is how he subverted the soulmates trope for Naruto and Sasuke. A more basic writer would've made it too predictable and boring or too contrived as a retcon.

Kishimoto establishes in its most explicit form that Naruto and Sasuke are soulmates in chapter 671. The cover says it all; complementary colors (yellow/purple, green/red, orange/blue), Yin Yang imagery and text, Sun and moon imagery, Heaven and Earth text.

He had also already given us hints of the soulmatism between Naruto and Sasuke with the whole "my wind will make his fire stronger" stuff. Plus all the official art he made where he plays with perspective making Naruto and Sasuke adopt poses that are similar to the Yin Yang symbol.

However, what I like the most is how he subverts the trope: Naruto and Sasuke don't love each other because they're destined to love each other, quite the opposite, they love each other in spite of their circumstances and predecessors.

We look at their predecessors and hatred and lust for power triumphed over love. Ashura and Indra hated each other. Hashirama and Madara had more complex feelings but ultimately Hashirama chose Konoha over Madara and Madara chose power and hatred over Hashirama. One of them always ended up dying/killed by the other one, severing their bond. Naruto and Sasuke were supposed to go down this path, that's the way it always had been. But they chose not to. Naruto embraced this choice, Sasuke on the other hand had more issues accepting the choice his heart had already made years ago when he wasn't able to kill Naruto during the battle at the VoTE1.

Sasuke saw himself and Naruto when he looked at Hashirama and Madara have their last conversation before Madara died for good. Madara and Hashirama were never able to make amends and reconnect their bond, Madara dying with the words right in his mouth. This is what Sasuke had expected to happen betwen him and Naruto. Maybe he thought he would be able to kill Naruto or maybe he thought that at some point during the battle Naruto would finally give up on him and kill him sparing him from the pain of severing their bond, but none of that happened.

We look at the battle and Sasuke never had the resolve to kill Naruto. He closes his eyes when he's punching Naruto because he can't bear to look at the face of the man he loves, he can't bear that inescapable gaze.

We see Sasuke deactivate his sharingan when he's about to give his definitive blow and instead let Naruto beat him. He never had it in him to kill Naruto.

And we all saw during the arc of the Kage Summit how everyone begged Naruto to give up on Sasuke, to let them execute him and Naruto refused every single time.

Even during their final battle when it was Sasuke who was begging him to let him severe their bond he responded "sorry I can't do that because I'm your one and only".

A different man with a weaker resolve would've have given up on Sasuke, would have let others execute him for betraying Konoha or would have let himself be killed or would have had the mercy to kill Sasuke to spare him from loving each other. Instead they chose to not to because they put each other above everything else.

Here is where I'd like to bring back the "my wind will make his fire stronger" theme. Yamato had stated Naruto's wind overpowers Sasuke's lightning, I believe here is where Kishimoto is telling us subtly he's subverting the soulmates trope. Yamato stated the obvious: Naruto could kill Sasuke just like Ashura and Hashirama killed Indra and Madara respectively, and follow the natural course of their destiny as reincarnates. Two opposites going at each other until one of them falls. But then, to Yamato's surprise (and slight annoyance) Naruto declares he'd rather be the wind that makes Sasuke's fire stronger, very important to note it wasn't Yamato who mentioned it as an alternative, y'know like "well, your wind is overpowers his lightning but it can also make his fire stronger". No, it was Naruto who arrived to this conclusion himself, he was told he could overpower Sasuke but instead Naruto chose to be Sasuke's complementary that could make him stronger. Naruto chose to defy his fate.

Naruto and Sasuke were destined to meet each other and fight each other but they weren't destined to love each other, that was of their own accord.

Their love is a conscious choice not a prophecy forced upon them.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Benny Cross the Bikeriders Fantasy Part 6 Finale

Label Mature 18+

Chapter 6 For Keeps 🔗Chapter 1 🔗Chapter 2 🔗Chapter 3 🔗Chapter 4 🔗Chapter 5

🔗 Master List

Summary With every thing stripped from Benny he begins to understand what he really wants out of life and after a fateful turn of events putting your safety at risk finalizes his decision changing both of your lives forever.

♠️ Passionate Smut ♠️ Edging • claiming •oral on female• sexual teasing •mutual mastrubation • pinning •mating press •breeding kink• clit stimulation•nipple play •breast play • rough sex • multiple orgasms •multiple cream pies

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 🫦 Smut Consultant @burnthheparaphilia

Heavily Inspired by the Bikeriders Movie Mentions of death ☠️ attempted violation of female💥

🏍️ Inspo: anonymous requests combined •The ‘red dress’ scene (but Bennys there) •Benny desperately wants to get you pregnant •Benny protective over you •The ‘fight scene’ with angry sex •Happy ending for Benny

For Keeps

The day of the Vandals picnic arrives and when you and Benny ride in the scene is a far cry from the gatherings you remember.

The atmosphere is pure chaos, loud music pulses through the air with everyone heavily intoxicated, the usual beers replaced by hard liquor and hooch. Scantily clad women mingle through the crowd, their presence heightening the already rowdy energy. The heavy scent of marijuana blends with the roar of motorcycles, amplifying the wild unruly ambiance.

As you and Benny pull up, the bikers erupt into cheers and chants, their voices ringing with excitement. “Benny’s back!” some shout, their enthusiasm undeniable “The legend lives on!” Cal yells enthusiastically, his voice cutting through the cheers of the group.

As Benny dismounts the motorcycle, he can’t help but smile, his face lighting up with a mixture of relief and exhilaration. The warm reception from the Vandals fills him with a sense of belonging and joy.

After you dismount, Benny carefully retrieves his crutch from where he’s welded a custom piece to fit his bike. With you by his side, he steadies himself on the crutch and makes his way toward the group of Vandals gathered at a table, with Johnny and Brusy seated front and center.

Johnny’s eyes fall to Benny’s cast and crutch as he approaches. “You rode all the way in on that?” Johnny asks, a note of surprise and teasing in his voice.

“Yeah, I just strapped it to the bike,” Benny replies with a weary sigh, the strain of riding with a broken ankle evident in his expression.

You interject with a hint of frustration in your voice. “He needs all of this because his ankle is still healing, Johnny,” you say, your words edged with anger from your unresolved argument about Benny.

You side eye Johnny before spotting Betty, Donna, and Gail waving you down in the distance. Turning to Benny with a loving smile, you cup his jaw and press a big, lingering kiss to his cheek. “You need anything, you let me know,” you say sweetly and as you step back, you see the glimmer of appreciation in Benny’s eyes as he watches you depart, a dreamy smile on his lips.

You know how much Benny cherishes his time with the Vandals, and despite your unease of him remaining in the club, you leave him to reconnect with his friends.

As you sit with the old ladies, you watch in disbelief as the new chapters of Vandals revel in the chaos of drinking, fighting, and wild behavior.

The club scene has transformed into a display of menacing bikers. There are more fights, louder arguments, and public displays of fornication than you’ve ever witnessed in your life. The atmosphere is filled with the raw energy of unbridled menace, making the whole scene feel oppressive.

Benny finds you a short time later and sits down at the picnic table, resting his crutch beside him. He listens to you recount the tales of how he’s recovering and how much better he’s doing to the group of gathered ladies. He looks over at you fondly, enjoying your company and wanting to be by your side more than he does with the members of the club that he can no longer keep up with as they dance and drink and shout and run wild.

As nightfall descends, the groups spread out around various campfires, a long standing Vandal tradition. The main Vandals gather closely, with Zipco regaling the members with wild stories, his voice rising above the crackling flames.

The men settle into a variety of spots, some perched on weathered logs, others lounging in mismatched chairs, and a few simply sitting cross-legged on the ground.

The fire casts a warm, flickering glow over the scene, illuminating their faces as they listen and laugh, wrapped in the camaraderie of the night.

You and Benny sit on chairs leaning against each other as he absently runs his fingers over your hand and the tender gesture makes you smile. When he steals the occasional glances at you with his eyes filled with love, it deepens your smile even more.

Across the fire, Johnny watches the two of you from his seat. Betty perched comfortably on his lap. His gaze is on Benny, distracted from Zipco's animated storytelling, his mind drifting to a decision he made long ago that needs to be addressed tonight.

Johnny nudges Betty gently before rising abruptly, drawing everyone’s attention away from Zipco’s tale. He looks over the group, before nodding to Benny and gesturing for him to follow.

Benny rises slowly, gently squeezing your hand for reassurance as he balances on one foot. You hand him his crutch ensuring he’s steady with a tender touch before he heads off.

Johnny leads Benny a short distance away from the group, guiding him towards their bikes. Benny rests his crutch on a piece of fence, using it for support as he steadies himself. The night is dark with only a park lamp casting a soft, yellow glow over them.

“Means a lot you coming out here all banged up like that,” Johnny says pointing at his cast while Benny lights up his cigarette.

“I’ve been thinking,” Johnny continues, “I can’t run this club forever. I’m gonna have to find somebody to…” He pauses, his eyes meeting Benny’s, “to take it over.”

Benny exhales a cloud of smoke. “What about Brusy?” he asks.

Johnny shakes his head, placing a hand on his bike. “I love Brusy like a brother,” he says, his voice firm, “but it ain’t Brusy.”

Benny exhales his smoke again as Johnny adds, “Brusy will get eaten alive by these guys.”

Johnny trails his hand along his bike and looks Benny in the eyes. “It’s gotta be somebody that…” He searches Bennys eyes, “they respect. It’s gotta be somebody that ain’t gonna take no shit from ‘em.”

A silence falls as Johnny and Benny look toward the campfire where the bikers are gathered.

“It’s you,” Johnny finally says.

Benny looks at Johnny, chuckling softly as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“C’mon,” Benny says cracking a smile, thinking Johnny isn’t serious.

Johnny’s gaze is unwavering as he stands up from his bike, walking over so close to Benny that it’s intimidating. Johnny’s eyes bore into Benny with an intensity that is unsettling.

“Look, I built this club out of nothing,” Johnny says, stepping even closer gesturing with his hand. “I put more into this fucking club than my own family. This is my family,” he insists.

Benny looks at Johnny with newfound understanding, seeing the concern in Johnny’s eyes.

“Y’know, I don’t know how many fucking chapters we got now. We’ve got old guys, new guys, young guys—most of the new ones I don’t know. But the guys I do know, they ain’t gonna follow anybody except somebody who can hold their own.”

Johnny’s eyes are almost desperate as they lock onto Benny.

Benny quickly looks down, avoiding Johnny’s intense gaze.

“Look at me,” Johnny demands. Benny hesitates before finally meeting his eyes, a flicker of resignation showing.

After a tense moment Benny breaks the silence.

“I’m all fucked up,” Benny answers, gesturing to his cast. “And my girl is the one paying my fucking dues,” he confesses with vulnerability.

Johnny’s scoffs as Benny takes a long drag from his cigarette.

Benny exhales a cloud of smoke with a sigh, turning his head away as he speaks. “You’re a grown man,” he says, before meeting Johnny’s intense gaze.“You’ve got a house, you’ve got a job. I don’t want that. I never cared about any of that.”

Johnny’s face turns serious as he taps Benny’s vest, right on his Vandals biker patch.

“That’s why it’s you,” Johnny says. “All these guys in here, they’re all trying to be you. You see?” he asks, looking Benny deeply in the eyes.

Benny looks off into the distance, seeing you quietly by the campfire, the soft glow of the flames illuminating your beautiful face. His heart aches with the weight of the decision before him. “Johnny…” he begins with hesitation.

But Johnny gets in so close he’s inches from Benny’s face, and Benny can feel his breath as Johnny says, “It’s yours,” his voice low but firm, each word carrying a heavy significance. Benny meets Johnny’s intense gaze, the silence between them tense with unspoken words.

Seeing the extreme conflict in Benny’s eyes, Johnny softens his resolve slightly and finally turns away.

“Hey, you know, just think it over,” Johnny says in a lighter tone, trying to mask his desperation.

Benny can feel Johnny’s urgency as he takes a final drag from his cigarette and gathers his crutch, using it to return to the campfire. He takes one last look back at Johnny who remains rested against his bike, lost in thought.

When Benny returns to sit beside you, there’s a profound change in him. His eyes carry the weight of deep thought as he sinks into his seat next to you.

The ride home reflects his mood, cold and windy, with a chill that mirrors the silence between you. Benny is clearly lost in thought. By the time you both arrive home, it’s late. He’s sore, aching, and exhausted.

You head straight to warm up in a hot shower. As you stand behind him, washing his back with a washcloth, you gently ease his sore muscles as he stands under the warm water, letting the stress of the day slowly wash away.

After drying off, you settle into the fresh sheets of your soft bed, and turn off the light. Benny curls up against you, his breath warm and soft against your neck. As you begin to drift off in the comfort of his arms, he quietly reveals what’s been on his mind, “Johnny offered me the club.” Benny says his voice heavy with the gravity of his thoughts.

You turn slightly to look at him, feeling a twinge of anxiety.

“He said it’s mine if I want it,” Benny continues, looking into your eyes feeling undecided.

“Well, what did you say?” you ask gently.

“I didn’t say anything,” Benny replies, pulling you closer.

You rest your head on the pillow, thinking about the weight of the decision Benny will have to make. “Just rest now,” you say softly, your voice soothing as you gently stroke his hand, offering him comfort while he processes his thoughts.

Restored

The next week Benny finally gets his cast removed at the hospital. It’s a moment of triumph and relief. The doctor carefully uses a small, vibrating saw to cut through the hardened plaster, making quick, precise movements to ensure Benny’s skin remains untouched. As the cast comes off, he stretches his leg, testing its flexibility for the first time. The feeling of freedom is evident in his smile.

When Benny stands for the first time without the cast, he takes a tentative step, then another, gaining confidence with each movement. He turns to you, his eyes shining with gratitude, and wraps you in a warm hug. “Thank you, baby. I couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, his voice filled with deep appreciation. He pulls you in for a heartfelt kiss, a gesture that speaks volumes about how much your support has meant to him.

Once home, Benny eagerly dives into his chores. He starts by de-weeding the garden, pulling out stubborn weeds with a determined look of satisfaction. Next, he tackles his list of tasks around the house: cleaning the drains in the sink, and repairing the sticking window in the living room. His enthusiasm is undeniable as he works, each completed task a testament to his regained strength and stamina.

After he finishes his work, Benny heads to the shower, stripping naked as he turns the water on, letting it warm up. The steam begins to fill the bathroom, softening the edges of the mirror.

He steps under the stream, letting the hot water cascade over his tired muscles, washing away the dirt and grime from his skin. As he lathers up, his eyes drift down to his foot, where the red, jagged scar stretches across his ankle, a constant reminder of what he’s been through.

By nightfall, Benny surprises you by preparing a home cooked meal. He playfully pushes you out of the kitchen when you enter , his hands firm yet gentle on your waist.

“Go on, get off your feet,” he insists with a smile. As you turn back to protest, he leans in and kisses you, long and lingering, his gratitude evident in the way his lips meet yours.

His smile widens as you part, and he can’t help but watch the way your hips sway as you head to the living room, a warmth spreading through him at the sight.

He serves up spaghetti with tomato sauce and a crisp salad with Italian dressing. It’s a humble, straightforward meal, but the care and effort he put in to prepare it make it extraordinary. You both enjoy dinner with satisfied grins, savoring the flavors and the comfort of the familiar routine.

After dinner, Benny leads you into the living room, where he selects a record from your collection, holding it gently as he slides it from its sleeve and placing the vinyl onto the turntable.

He lowers the needle, and the room fills with the warm, crackling sound of the song as the music starts to play, filling the space with a melodic tune.

Benny turns to you, his eyes lit with anticipation, and gently pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he brushes his lips against yours in a soft, tender kiss.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this with you?” he asks, his hand resting around your waist as you move to the music.

“Forever, Benny,” you reply, your smile mirroring his. You both bask in the joy of the moment, swaying together and savoring the simple pleasure of being in each other’s arms.

He kisses you again, this time with greater need, his hands cupping your face.

“I love you,” he whispers. You look into his eyes, a playful glint in yours.

“Show me,” you say, pulling him by both hands toward the stairs.

Benny’s face lights up with a grin as he follows you up, step by step remembering when he was stuck on the ground floor with a cast.

“I missed this too,” he says in a playful tone his voice full of anticipation, making both of you laugh as you ascend the stairs together.

Once you reach the bedroom, Benny lifts you effortlessly into his strong arms. He holds you close, his eyes dark with desire and affection as your legs wrap around his waist.

“I’ve been wanting to hold you like this again for so long,” he says, his grin is infectious his eyes lock on to yours .

“Me too, Benny,” you reply, smiling as a thrill runs through you being carried in his strong arms. You look into his eyes, your heart pounding, and gently cup his face, lowering your lips to his in a soft, appreciative kiss.

Benny gently lays you on the bed, his touch tender as he settles you into the familiar comfort of the master bedroom.

His fingers caress your face with affectionate care, his eyes reflecting deep gratitude and longing. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this….how much I missed you… “ he says as his thumb gently brushes over your lips, “I thought about being healed and back in your arms everyday.” He smiles fondly.

His eyes soften giving way to something deeper. “You cared for me at my worst and …I just want to show you how much I appreciate you,” he says, his voice laced with emotion as he leans in and kisses you tenderly, full of his unspoken desire.

With a soft touch, he begins unbuttoning your top, his fingers lingering on your skin as he slowly removes it. His hands then trail to your jeans, sliding them down your legs with deliberate care. He stands to take off his own shirt, revealing his chiseled, muscular torso without a bruise in sight. His smooth skin showing all the contours of his muscles in the light.

You grin at him, taking in how handsome he looks, noticing the flex in his muscles seem even stronger than before. Your eyes drop to his hands as he begins unbuttoning his jeans, and your heart rate spikes with anticipation.

Benny lowers his jeans, standing before you, completely naked. His cock is long and hard, substantial in length, a clear sign of how much he desires you.

He gives you a commanding look as he grins his voice low and full of authority, “Show me how much you missed me baby” he says lowering his hand and running it along his cock. “Play with yourself until you begging for me” he orders.

Your breath quickens, a thrill coursing through you at his words. You seductively smile at him unhooking your bra and letting it slide down your arms, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Next, you slip your fingers into the waistband of your panties, peeling them off until you are completely bare before him.

You settle back against the bed, spreading your legs just enough to give him a tantalizing view.

Your fingers start to explore yourself with soft a deliberate touch, teasing your entrance gently at first, before pushing your fingers inside, causing a soft moan to escape your lips making Benny’s eyes darken with desire.

He climbs on top of you, his weight pressing down at your sides just enough to remind you of his presence, his breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.

He hovers above you, his body close but not quite touching, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come.

“Keep going for me,” he commands wrapping his hand around his cock, slowly stroking himself, the need between you building with each passing second.

You continue moving your fingers within yourself, your breathing becoming ragged as you surrender to the sensation. “Benny,” you whisper, your voice trembling with raw need as he pants above you. His eyes locked on yours as he strokes his cock harder in a quick deliberate rhythm.

As your moans grow desperate for him he lowers his mouth to your neck, trailing kisses that send shivers down your spine, his lips warm and soft, lingering just long enough to make you crave more.

His hand slides to your breast, his touch teasing as he firmly pinches your nipple, eliciting a gasp that makes you arch into him, the pleasure sharp and exquisite.

Benny’s breath quickens as he watches you beneath him, your face a picture of pure bliss, your body responding eagerly to the dual sensations of your own touch and his. His breaths become more ragged, his hand moving faster, stroking his cock harder

“Tell me you want me,” he whispers his voice thick with desire, his words sending a thrill through you.

“Please,” you beg, your voice laced with need. “I want you Benny.” The intensity of your plea drives him wild.

Without a word, Benny takes your wrist, pulling your fingers from you and guiding them directly into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around them, tasting you with a groan of satisfaction.

Then he places your hand back on your clit. “Tease it while I taste you,” he says as he lowers himself between your legs.

You do as he says, rubbing your clit with increasing pressure as his lips press against your soft folds, his tongue flicking and teasing, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

His mouth works expertly, licking and sucking with just the right amount of pressure, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

He places his fingers over yours, making you press harder on your clit as he guides your hand in slow, deliberate circles. “Benny,” you moan, your voice trembling with need.

He grips your hips, pulling you closer to his face, his breath hot against your skin as he laps at you, each stroke of his tongue teasing and deliberate. His movements are unrelenting drawing out every sensation until your eyes flutter closed and a loud moan escapes your lips, the pleasure too much to bear.

Your fingers circle your clit faster and faster, the sharp jolts of pleasure amplifying every sensation as Benny’s eager lips and tongue work at a relentless pace. Your hips begin to buck against his mouth, and he holds you firmly in place, your thighs tightening around his head, trapping him. He buries his face between your legs, thrusting his tongue deep inside you, coaxing your orgasm with deliberate strokes.

Loud moans escape your lips, the sound a mix of desperation and pleasure as your release comes, your body trembling as you squirt directly into his mouth. Benny groans against you, the vibrations of his voice making you moan in pleasure with him.l

As you come down from your high, breathless and spent, Benny takes his hands to your thighs, gently pushing them up and wide, your legs bending easily under his touch.

“I’m not even close to being done with you yet,” he breathes, his voice heavy with passion as he gazes down at you.

His hands grasp beneath your knees, his grip firm holding you in a way that leaves you completely vulnerable to him.

“You’ve given me everything, and I’m going to make sure you feel every inch of how much appreciate you.” He says using one hand to guide his tip to your entrance as his other hand keeps your leg firmly in place.

He pushes his cock deep into to your soaked walls. The sensation of him stretching you wider as he pushes in makes your breath catch, the tight pressure building with each inch he claims.

He settles within you, his large cock filling you completely, pressing against you at an angle that has you moaning his name.

He shudders replacing his hand to hold your other leg, spreading you wide apart the position leaving you completely at his mercy. With a deep, groan, he presses hips against you, pushing his cock all the way inside you as he begins to thrust.

His eyes flicker between your face and body as he watches the way you take him in. Every moan every gasp, the way your breasts bounce with every thrust, your nipples hardening with every jolt of pleasure.

He shifts his angle slightly, hitting just the right spot to make you moan louder.

“You feel …so good,” he praises, his voice raw and full of desire. His large hand slides up your side, until it reaches your breast, he

squeezes firmly, brushing his thumbs over your nipple before pinching it firmly between his fingers.

The sensation sends a sharp wave of pleasure through you, making you gasp. Benny’s eyes darken as he watches your reaction, the way your body arches into his touch, craving more.

He lowers himself onto you, his chest pressing firmly against yours. The weight of him feels grounding, the heat of his body searing against your skin.

His breath comes in warm, ragged pants against your neck as he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His hands cup your breasts squeezing and teasing your nipples as his hips thrust in a relentless rhythm, driving his cock deeper into you making you moan in pleasure.

His hands slide to the backs of your thighs, gripping them again as he picks up the pace, his thrusts become deeper, more intense, his cock pushing against a place that has you moaning into his mouth with every firm stroke.

The pressure is euphoric his cock filling you completely, leaving no room for anything else. You can feel every inch of him, every pulse and throb, as he claims you over and over again.

His grip on your thighs tightens, holding you in place as he increases his pace, his hips slamming against you with a force that leaves you breathless.

The controlling position has your body arching and writhing beneath him as he drives you closer and closer to the point of no return.

“Benny,” you cry out your voice trembling with desperation as he watches you fall apart beneath him. Your abs tensing as your walls clenching tightly around his cock.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel Benny as he takes you higher and higher, his pace relentless, his desire for you all consuming.

Your moans are unending as your body trembles, your heart racing as you teeter on the edge of oblivion,

“You’re gonna come“ he says breathlessly and reaches his hands between your bodies finding your clit. His fingers press firmly against it as he thrusts. Your body responds immediately, your hips bucking up to meet his touch as you moan desperately into the air.

He pulls you into a searing kiss his lips moving against yours with a fierce intensity, as if he’s pouring every ounce of emotion into the connection. His lips never leave yours, staying softly pressed together in a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

The pleasure becomes so intense that you moan into each others mouths feeling the tension building into an unbearable peak.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as you surrender to the sensation.

“Come with me,” he urges , his voice rough with desire as he gently guides your legs back until you’re perfectly positioned beneath him in a mating press. His biceps flexing as he holds your legs in place.

“This one’s for keeps,” he says, his voice strained with effort, each word a promise as his hips thrust driving himself deeper. He pushes harder, his back arching with each powerful stroke that fills your completely.

“I’m gonna come!” He yells and you both cry out in unison as the intensity overtakes you, his body claiming you with an overwhelming force.

Your orgasm crashes through you your walls pulsing and clenching around his cock as he continues thrusting into you. Your muscles tensing and quivering uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure surges through you.

Benny lets out a deep, guttural groan, his body shuddering as he reaches his own climax. You can feel the rush of his release hot and thick, filling you completely as he comes deep inside you. His cock pulses with each throb of your core, the warmth of his cum spreading through you, mingling with the slickness of your own arousal.

Your breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, as you cling to him, the sensation filling you with a sense of completion, of being claimed by him in a way that words could never convey.

Benny’s chest is heaving with exertion as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. You can feel the sweat on his skin, the way his body trembles with the effort.

Benny groans as the intensity of his movements begins to subside. His cock softly pulses making him feel euphoric as a satisfied sigh escapes his lips. His hands, once so firm, now gently caress your skin, his touch tender, almost reverent, savoring every second of being connected to you in this moment.

He remains close, his body still pressed tightly against yours, his cock nestled deep within you, as the final waves of pleasure slowly fade away.

You’re left in the quiet silence of the night, your bodies still entangled, your breaths slowly synchronizing, as you both bask in the lingering warmth and connection that only the depth of your love can bring.

Devoted

Benny repeatedly misses meeting after meeting with the Vandals. Every time the phone rings with Johnny Brusy or Cal on the other end, he comes up with an excuse not to attend, choosing instead to stay with you.

He hugs you, kisses you, and showers you with affection at every opportunity. He can’t seem to keep his hands off you especially your stomach, where he’s convinced his baby is growing.

One afternoon, his curiosity finally gets the better of him. You’re both doing simple tasks around the living room, you’re dusting the shelves, humming softly to yourself, while he’s putting records back into their sleeves, the warm notes of a vinyl playing in the air.

You move with a lightness on your tiptoes as you dust the higher shelves, a bright smile never leaving your face. There’s something different about you today, more radiant.

As you reach for the next spot, you accidentally knock a book from the shelf and you smile as you bend down to pick it up. You kneel carefully, one hand resting on your waist as you stand back up, the movement gentle and deliberate.​

Benny pauses, watching you for a moment, mesmerized by how you seem to be glowing. It’s not just your mood or the way you move with a gentle grace it’s something deeper, something in the way you carry yourself.

“You’re like sunshine today baby,” Benny says, his voice soft with admiration.

You look back at him, your eyes sparkling. “Am I?” you ask with a grin, stretching up on your tip toes again, playfully dusting his shoulder.

He chuckles watching you, feeling a sense of wonder. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “You’re different. Something’s changed.”

As you walk around him, a soft giggle escaping your lips, he senses it. There’s a new softness to your movements, something gentle but undeniable, and he’s drawn to it.

He can’t help but be curious. “Let me get a look at you,” he says, stepping closer, gently resting his hands on your waist.

He kneels in front of you, bathed in the soft afternoon light of the living room and lifts the hem of your dress.

His fingers trace the skin of your stomach, his touch gentle but searching, trying to understand the change he’s sensing.

His eyes fixate on you navel with a burning curiosity. “How soon until we can tell?” he asks in a serious tone,

You smile at his earnestness. “It’ll be a few months until the doctors can tell, Benny,” you reveal, fully aware he won’t be too pleased with the wait.

He frowns slightly, his thumb lightly brushing across your belly button.

“I’ve been giving it my all, you know,” he says, his voice playful as he leans closer speaking softly to your belly. “Been working hard in there every day,” he adds with a teasing grin, making you giggle.

He then cautiously presses his finger into your swollen ovary. “Ow Benny!” You exclaim and he looks up at you his eyes worried “I’m sorry baby” he says quickly his eyes full of repentance.

“it’s alright Benny.” you say smiling at him warmly seeing how fascinated he is.

“I have to know.” He says having you hold your dress back.

He presses both of your ovaries with his thumbs at the same time making an odd sensation course through you as your face winces in pain.

“Hurts?” He asks glancing up at you before focusing back on your abdomen.

“Yea Benny it feels really sore“ you confirm your voice strained. He has a look of sudden realization as he immediately releases his hands standing taller than you.

He glances down at your abdomen then back into your eyes

“I’m a hundred percent sure my baby is growing in you right now.” He admits

“Benny what!” Your say smiling at his enthusiasm

“You’re having my baby.” he confirms and you gently laugh seeing the conviction in his eyes.

“Benny” you say sweetly wrapping your arms around his neck gazing into his blue eyes lovingly. “There’s no way you can tell this soon.”

Benny glances down between your bodies before looking back into your eyes his hands firmly on your waist. “I’m one hundred percent sure.” He says with unwavering certainty.

Better Off

With Benny avoiding time with the Vandals, it comes as a shock when you receive a call one afternoon, and it’s Betty on the line.

Her voice is trembling as she relays “I have some devastating news… Brusy… he died in a motorcycle accident.”

Your breath catches, and you grip the phone tightly as Betty explains. It was an early morning ride when someone backed out of their driveway without seeing him. His death was instant. You cover your mouth in shock, trying to process what she’s saying. “What about Gail?” you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“She’s inconsolable,” Betty replies, her voice breaking with emotion.

In a daze, you bid her farewell and hang up the phone heading straight to the garage, where you find Benny working on a bike. You stand in the doorway, hesitating, unsure how to break the news. Benny finally looks up at you, his hands covered in oil, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“What is it?” he asks, noticing your distress.

You take a deep breath, deciding to just tell him plainly. “Benny… Brusy died in a motorcycle accident.”

His reaction is not what you expect. Without even looking up, he mutters, “He’s better off.”

You’re stunned. “What?” you ask, thinking you misheard him.

“I said, he’s better off,” Benny repeats, this time taking the cigarette out of his mouth to look at you, his tone detached.

“Benny, you can’t say that,” you try to reason with him, still in disbelief.

Benny shrugs, going back to work on his bike, his indifference unsettling you. “How can you not have feelings, Benny?” you ask becoming frustrated with his lack if concern.

“My dad made sure of that,” he says, not bothering to look up as he tightens a bolt on the bike’s engine

“What did you say?” you ask, stepping further into the garage, drawn in by the rare mention of his past.

“He’s better off too,” Benny adds, still unbothered, as if he were discussing something trivial

“Benny!” you exclaim, shocked. “Your father… passed away?” you ask, your concern rising.

“Yeah,” he replies nonchalantly, wiping his hands clean of oil and tossing the rag over his shoulder. “It’s just as well.

The news hits you hard, but Benny’s stoic demeanor leaves you feeling helpless.

The next week you attend Brusy funeral with all of the Vandals to pay your respects. The family refused the floral arrangements from the club, so Johnny has the Vandals form a line at the entrance, a silent show of solidarity.

As Brusy’s family arrives, his mother and father are the only ones who attend. His father clutches his mother as they walk through the line of Vandals to the ceremony. Brusys mother recognizes Johnny, and her grief turns to anger. She looks him in the eyes with disgust and spits directly in his face.

“Get out of here, would ya?” Brusys father adds, leaning in after her with a serious tone. But Johnny and the Vandals remain, unmoved.

After Brusys death, the guilt weigha heavily on Benny. Seeing his brotherhood again in such sad times shifted something inside him

To your dismay, Benny throws himself wholeheartedly back into the Vandals. He’s running missions, going on weekly rides, and always at Johnny’s beck and call, eager to help at a moment’s notice.

He gets into more fights, racks up more speeding tickets, and makes more court appearances, as if he’d been desperate to make up for lost time.

Even though part of him wants to pull away, he cant seem to let go. The thrill, the loyalty to his brothers—he couldn’t resist, no matter how much he might have wanted to break free

Every time he comes home and sees you, there’s flicker of guilt in his eyes. He knows he should leave the club—he told you several times that he planned to walk away from the Vandals. “I’m just gonna leave,” he’d say, but you could always see the doubt behind his words deep down you knew he didnt meant it.​

Every time Johnny called, Benny was right back by his side. Even though Benny didn’t want to take over the club, he could see the emptiness Johnny felt after losing Brusy, and that’s what kept him tethered-what kept him coming back.

After Brusy died, things began to change in the club. More people from tougher walks of life wanted to join, seeking the comfort and strength in numbers that the brotherhood provided.

Johnny had to turn away dozens of them, questioning their loyalty or finding it lacking altogether. But as new sects sprang up with different styles of leadership he began to lose his control.

The parties and picnics grew wilder and more chaotic until Benny stopped inviting you altogether. He preferred you stay home, safe and comfortable, while he helped Johnny sort through the increasingly violent and unpredictable issues that came with managing so many new, unruly chapters.

She’s Fine

When, Benny does finally invite you it’s to one of the largest parties the Vandals have ever thrown, held in an old, abandoned manor in the middle of a field in Chicago. As you arrive, a sense of unease settles in your stomach. You only know Johnny, Cal, and Cockroach; none of the old ladies from the club are there. In fact, there are only the new, provocative and wild girls, which immediately puts you on edge.

You sit with Benny as he drinks his beer, listening to Sunny, a new recruit, recount his tales of being a ‘Dead Devil’ member in California. As Sunny proudly describes his thrill of being in a club of “proper fuck-ups” like himself, you notice that the new bikers have a common uniting theme from all corners of the country.

They seem like renegades, exuding the mentality of dangerous, cutthroat survivors who are banding together to carry out their dirty work, empowered by their strength in numbers.

You try to relax, seeing the edgier side of biker life with Benny, but there’s a rougher, more aggressive undercurrent tonight. The feeling is unsettling and hard to ignore.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of a biker grabbing a girl with a roughness that’s meant to be playful, but the way he handles her is terrifying. The girl laughs it off, but the danger lurking beneath the surface is unmistakable.

When Benny drinks the last of his beer you get up to fetch him another. As you pull a cold one from the cooler in the kitchen, you encounter a skinny young woman smoking a cigarette.

“Are you new?” she asks, her eyes scanning you up and down.

“No, well, I mean, I’m with a Vandal,” you reply, gesturing towards Benny.

She takes a drag of her cigarette and offers a weak smile. “He’s handsome,” she says, her gaze lingering on Benny before she turns back to the conversation.

“I don’t blame you for being claimed by one,” she says, eyeing a biker from across the room. “I’ve had my fair share of men, but bikers… there’s something about em…the roughness, the edge, the way they push you beyond your limits,” she adds, giving you a knowing look as she takes another drag from her cigarette. “I can’t get enough of ’em,” she mutters, slowly exhaling a cloud of smoke that lingers in the air.

The biker she’s been eyeing gestures for her to come over, and without another word, she struts away, leaving you standing alone, her words hanging in the air.​

Feeling a bit uneasy, you make your way back to Benny, unable to shake the conversation. As you approach with the beer, you notice all the men are looking in the direction you just came from.

You glance back and see the girl you just spoke to is now seductively dancing for the biker in the other room, a crowd of men gathering around to watch.

It dawns on you that the new girls around the club seem different—more open, more seductive, almost like… but you shake the thought from your mind. As you sit back down next to Benny, he places his arm around you, rubbing his thumb along your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

Suddenly, Johnny bursts into the room, snapping his fingers, his eyes deadly serious.

“Hey, guys, I need you,” he says, and Benny, Cal, and two of the new recruits quickly jump up and rush outside.

“I’ll be right back,” Benny tells you, concern etched on his face as he follows Johnny out, leaving you alone on the couch.

As you sit there waiting, a creeping unease begins to settle in. You notice several bikers standing around, their eyes flicking toward you more often than you’d like. The longer you sit, the more uncomfortable you feel. The room feels heavy, the atmosphere shifting as the men’s gazes linger on you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl.

Deciding it’s safer outside, you get up, intending to wait for Benny on the porch. But as you head toward the front door, you notice several bikers watching your every move, their eyes following you like a pack of wolves eyeing prey.

A cold chill runs down your spine, and with a sinking feeling, you realize the girl who was dancing seductively in the next room is gone, along with several of the other girls leaving you in a room of men riled up without a distraction.

You clutch your body instinctively, feeling the weight of their stares, every instinct screaming that something’s not right.

Just as you reach for the front door, a large, menacing biker steps in front of you, blocking your way. “Where you going?” he demands, his voice filled with malice as he grabs your arm with a vice-like grip.

“Let me go!” you scream in shock, shoving him as hard as you can, but his grip only tightens. Panic floods your veins as another biker grabs your other arm, and a third seizes your leg. They lift you off the ground, your body fighting with everything you have, but their hold is relentless, overpowering your desperate struggle.​

“We’ll take good care of you, pretty thing,” one of them laughs, his grip like iron as he holds you.

“Let’s take her upstairs,” another one suggests, the words passing between them with a dark, unspoken understanding, as if they’ve done this a hundred times before, a silent agreement among predators who have found their prey.

Their faces are lit with excitement and thrill as they carry you to the stairwell, their eyes gleaming with twisted pleasure as their hands greedily roam over your body. “Stop it! stop it! let me go!” you panic, your voice trembling as their rough hands slide beneath your clothing, fingers brushing against your skin. “No, no!” you cry out, your voice rising in desperation.

They work together, ignoring your pleas, their grins widening as they tug at your clothing, reveling in the power they have over you. The more you resist, the more it fuels their twisted desires.

“Let’s see what else she’s hiding,” a third one grins, his fingers pushing into your waistband.

You begin to kick, punch, thrash with all your might, managing to break free of one’s grip just long enough to claw another biker across the face, leaving deep, angry red marks.

“Damn, girl you got some fight in you !” the biker yells, grabbing your wrist with force. Your screams begin to pierce the night air, each one more desperate than the last, filled with raw, frantic energy as they continue to carry you up the stairs.

“She’s never been broken in,” one of them says, a dark grin spreading across his face as he covers your mouth with his hand, muffling your screams as they drag you up toward the landing.

You begin to cry as the terrifying reality sets in, and a fist comes out of nowhere, smashing into the face of the biker covering your mouth. He stumbles back, releasing you in shock.

You see Johnny clawing his way through the men to get to you. He grabs you, pulling you out of their grasp with a fierceness that leaves no room for argument. “This is Benny’s girl!” Johnny shouts, his voice ringing with authority.

The bikers quickly realize their mistake, fear and regret flashing across their faces. “We thought she was working,” one of them stammers, panic rising in his voice as he tries to justify their actions. “We were just trying to get ours,” another says, but the words falter as he sees Johnny’s eyes burning with a need for retribution.

They begin to disperse, leaving you crumpled on the stairs, your head resting against the wall as you breathe heavily, trying to process the horror of what just happened.

Your clothes are in disarray, and you shiver uncontrollably, still feeling their hands on you, your skin crawling with fear and disgust. You try to cover yourself, but your hands are shaking too violently to close the remaining buttons. The sensation of their rough, unwanted touches lingers, burning into your mind, a memory you can’t shake.

Johnny crouches down beside you, his face serious, his attempt at reassurance doing little to comfort you. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice gentle, but the look you give him is one of pure, absolute hatred.

Hatred for Benny still being entangled in this life, and hatred for the negligence and wildness of these new members that nearly cost you everything.

Johnny meets your gaze, his eyes pleading, trying to convince you, and maybe even himself, that everything is under control. “Nothing happened, alright?” he says, nodding as if the repetition will somehow make it true, will somehow erase the trauma that’s etched into your soul.

You stare at him blankly, your mind slipping into a numb, distant place. “Where’s Benny?” you ask weakly, your voice cracking as you teeter on the edge of shock.

The thought of how close you came to being violated by several men at once crashes over you, leaving you drowning in despair as you retreat into your mind staring blankly ahead.

“Nothing happened. You’re fine,” Johnny repeats, but the words sound distorted, as if they’re coming from far away. His is voice hollow and meaningless, as if me keeps saying the words enough times it will somehow make them true.

Just then, Benny rushes into the door way of the stairwell, his eyes wild with concern, panic evident in every line of his face. “What the fuck happened? I was gone for a minute!” he exclaims, his gaze locking onto you, taking in your disheveled appearance, your vacant stare.

“Baby, are you alright?” he asks, dropping to his knees beside you, his voice trembling with fear.

Your eyes drop to meet his, but everything feels distant, like you’re disconnected. The world around you blurs, sounds muffled and distorted. You try to speak, but no words come out, your throat tightens, and your mind is blank, unable to process what just happened.

“Benny, she’s fine, some of the guys got the wrong idea,” Johnny says, trying to downplay the situation, but there’s a tension in his voice, a realization that things have gone far beyond what he can smooth over.

“What do you mean, they got wrong idea? She can’t even talk; she’s fucking shaking!” Benny shouts, his anger flaring into something dangerous.

“It’s all been handled, it’s okay,” Johnny tries to reassure him, but Benny isn’t buying it. He sees the truth in your eyes, the trauma that words can’t cover up.

“Johnny, she’s not right,” Benny says, his voice tight with a mix of fury and desperation. He quickly takes off his jacket and wraps it around you, his hands moving up and down your arms, trying to warm you, to bring you back from the place where you’ve retreated.

“They got a little handsy,” Johnny finally admits, his voice lacking the nonchalance he’s aiming for, knowing he’s failed to protect you.

“How handsy?” Benny demands, his voice dangerous with a promise of retribution.

“They just thought she was one of the girls, but she’s fine, Benny. Nothing happened. I took care of it,” Johnny insists and his words simmer Benny’s growing rage. He trusts Johnny with his life and that means yours too.

Benny helps you to your feet, your legs trembling so violently you can barely stand. He pulls you close, holding you tightly against him “What happened, baby?” He asks in a hushed tone his eyes searching yours, desperate for some sign that you’re okay, but you can’t give him that.

Your mind is lost somewhere dark, replaying the nightmare over and over again, the terror of what could have happened gripping your heart.

“I’m taking you home, baby,” Benny says, his voice soft but firm, the determination in his tone clear. He knows he needs to get you away from here, away from the chaos, away from whatever just happened.

He scoops you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. His grip is strong and protective, but beneath it is a layer of fear, of guilt, knowing that his world, his choices, brought you to this point.

As he carries you quickly to his motorcycle, you rest your head against his shoulder, still shaking, still trying to process the horror of what you just survived.

Johnny stands there, watching you both leave, scratching his head in frustration, stress etched into his features knowing this was a big fuck-up, one that might cost him to lose Benny for good.

Don’t Leave Me

As Benny rides home with you, his grip tightens around your hands, holding them firmly against his chest. You can feel the tension radiating off him, anger and fear battling for control in his mind. The roar of the engine, the wind whipping past, it all feels muted, overshadowed by the weight of what just happened. As you bury your face in his shoulder, you know deep down that things between you and the Vandals will never be the same again.

When you get home, Benny immediately takes you to the shower. He carefully helps you out of your clothing and adjusts the water temperature. As he holds you against his chest waiting for the water to warm up you finally realize you are home safe.

But it also brings a wave of emotions you’ve been holding back and tears well up in your eyes. You cling to Benny and when he looks down at you hearing your sobs, his expression softens with concern.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers, holding your face in his hands. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” He says his thumbs brushing away your tears, but you can’t find the words to tell him what really happened. The fear of what might come next—or maybe just the shock of it all—keeps the truth stuck in your throat.

“Shh shh it’s alright” He says seeing you struggle to find the words and calmly guides you under the hot water the warmth immediately embraces your stunned body.

You close your eyes, letting the water cleanse you and when you open them, Benny has stepped away to give you some privacy.

“Benny,” you call out, panic creeping into your voice feeling the vulnerability of being alone.

“Yeah, baby?” he responds, returning to the doorway shirtless preparing for bed.

“Don’t leave me,” you plead, your voice tinged with a sadness that cuts through him.

“Baby, I won’t,” he reassures you, reaching into the shower and turning off the water. “I’ll stay by you all night,” he says as he helps you out and dries you off wrapping the soft towel around your shoulders. “I’ll stay with you forever,” he says holding you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead to reassure you of your safety, but you can see the turmoil in his eyes.

Later that night, you lie awake. Benny’s arm is wrapped protectively around you, but despite his comforting presence, you can’t shake the fear of the chaos that unfolded. The new Vandals are ruthless without remorse and you’re terrified that this is just the beginning and that things will only spiral further out of control.

You wonder why Benny won’t leave the club and why he refuses to take over, and it dawns on you that he must hate what the club has become. What started as a brotherhood and a symbol of freedom has turned into chaos and mob mentality. Benny’s only reason for staying is to help Johnny enforce some semblance of order, but even that seems like a losing battle now.

You decide to tell Benny the truth in the morning. It wasn’t just a misunderstanding with a few members getting handsy; they were all going to violate you, and Johnny barely managed to save you in time.

As you lie there you understand the truth, Johnny lied because he knows the only reason Benny would ever leave the club is for you.

When you wake up the next morning, Benny is in the shower. Feeling famished, you decide to make breakfast for both of you, slipping into a short-sleeved dress before heading downstairs.

After preparing eggs and toast, you set the food on the counter and call up to Benny, determined to tell him everything. You know that once he hears the truth, he’ll finally have the reason he needs to walk away from the Vandals.

You hear his footsteps upstairs, the familiar creak of the dresser drawer opening, but he doesn’t come down. When he doesn’t respond to your second call, an uneasiness forms in your chest and you head upstairs to check on him.

“Benny?” you call softly as you step into the master bedroom. Benny turns to face you in the act of quickly throwing on his jacket. The tension in the air is undeniable as you take in the scene. Something’s off…something’s very wrong.

“Yeah?” he replies, his voice tight, as though he’s been caught red-handed.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your eyes narrowing, picking up on his unusual behavior.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, but you can see that he’s fully dressed, ready to head out. There’s an urgency in his demeanor, a desperation he’s not quite managing to hide.

“I have something I need to say,” you begin, your heart heavy with the weight of what’s been on your mind.

“I gotta be someplace,” he interrupts, his eyes darting toward the door like he’s desperate to escape whatever’s coming next.

“We all have to be someplace, Benny,” you say, your tone serious, conveying that this is not something you’ll let slide.

“Alright, what is it?” he asks, leaning back against the dresser, his shoulders tense with the stress and that seems to be eating at him.

A long silence stretches between you as you search for the right words as your emotions swirl inside you, threatening to burst forth. Finally, you say it outright, the words heavy with finality.

“I can’t live like this anymore, Benny,” you say, your voice trembling with more emotion than you intended. “And I’m not gonna live like this anymore.” The finality in your words is clear. If he stays in the club, you can’t stay with him.

Benny’s eyes narrow as he processes what you’re saying.

“Last night, Benny, you weren’t there. You didn’t see it,” you reveal, the memory of what happened still raw and painful. “I..I don’t know what I would’ve done if they got me up those stairs and into that bedroom.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you push them back, fighting the disgust and humiliation that threatens to overwhelm you.

“What bedroom?” Benny asks, his concern deepening, the seriousness of the situation dawning on him as you try to hold back your tears.

“Johnny said he took care of it,” Benny says slowly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “He said when I was gone, nothing happened.”

“That’s not true, Benny!” you exclaim, your voice cracking as the anger and fear you’ve been holding back finally break free.

“They tried to take me up the stairs, a group of them, and you didn’t see it!” Your voice rises, the frustration of staying silent for too long making it impossible to hold back the torrent of pain and fury.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice low, full of regret. His mind reels, replaying Johnny’s words, the betrayal evident in every line of his face as he realizes the truth of what you’re telling him.

“You weren’t there!” you scream, the anguish of the night before breaking through in a wave of despair.

Benny stares at you, seeing you so broken cuts him deeply, and he hates that he’s the cause of it.

You bite your lip, trying to keep it from trembling as you summon the strength to speak the most painful truth. “If they had done what they planned… I don’t think I could live with myself.” Your voice cracks as the weight of the situation crashes down on you, leaving you trembling with sadness.

“C’mon, don’t say that, baby,” Benny says, his eyes filling with hurt. He can see how deeply this has affected you, and it breaks his heart.

“Who would even want me after something like that?” you whisper, the fear and shame eating away at you needing him to understand the gravity of the situation, to see what the club has done to you—to both of you.

His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he stares at you, the weight of what you’ve endured crashing down on him. Johnny lied. The Vandals are out of control. The club is spiraling, and he’s been blind to how deep it’s gone.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, his voice low and tense filled with the weight of impossible choices.

“I want you to quit the club,” you say with certainty.

Benny’s eyes narrow, his face hardening. “Don’t ask that,” he says, his voice edged with steel.

He knows he can’t just leave the Vandals, it’s a brotherhood bound by blood, to cut ties, especially now, would mean being ‘out bad,’ a fate worse than death in his world.

“Let’s leave for a while then, maybe travel for a few months. We can go anywhere, Benny. Let’s just leave some place,” you plead, desperation lacing your words.

And there’s a silence as Benny looks down, rapidly processing everything you’ve just told him.

You stare at him, waiting, your heart pounding in your chest. The tension in the air is undeniable as you wait for his response, hoping this will be the moment he finally decides to walk away from the chaos.

“Benny,” you say tensely, waiting for his answer, hoping against hope that he’ll choose you. But he sits in silence, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he grips the dresser’s edge, the internal battle evident in his tense posture.

“Benny!” you shout desperately, realizing he’s still not ready to leave the Vandals after everything.

“What?” he snaps, the frustration finally breaking through. His anger flares for a moment as he bites his lip, but then he calms, the fight draining out of him. His eyes fill with a heartbreaking sadness, and for a moment, it looks as if he might cry. The vulnerability in his expression is raw and unguarded, and it twists something deep inside you.

“What did you think this was hm?” he asks, his voice heart wrenching, as he remembers all the times you accepted him as he was. “What did you think this was ever gonna be?” he repeats, his voice trembling with conflict.

His words cut deep, a reminder that you married a full-blooded biker, with all the darkness and danger that comes with it, no questions asked.

“Benny,” you whisper, your voice weak and trembling, not wanting to do what you know you have to. He looks away, his jaw clenched and tense as he waits, knowing what’s coming.

Silence falls between you as you look down, wiping the tears that stream down your cheeks. You sniffle, feeling your heart break with the realization that changing Benny was a fantasy, and it was naive to think otherwise.

Benny turns back to the dresser, opening a drawer and tucking something away, but you’re too heartbroken to care.

The realization that you need to prioritize your life without him hits you with a crushing finality, and the dream of a life together shatters in the quiet of the room.

Just as you gather the strength to speak the words, Benny suddenly surges forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. His body presses against yours, his hands gripping your jaw as his lips crash against yours in a kiss more frantic than anything you’ve ever felt.

There’s an overwhelming urgency in the way his mouth moves against yours, his kiss rough and desperate like a man on the edge, as if he knows this is his last chance, and he’s trying to make up for every mistake in this one heated moment.

You barely have time to catch your breath as his hands grip you tightly, wrapping around your waist, pulling you even closer, as his mouth devours yours.

His tongue pushes in, the kiss raw and unyielding, leaving you breathless. There’s no gentleness here, only a frantic need to claim you, to make you his again before everything falls apart.

You know what you need to do, the words you need to say, but Benny doesn’t give you the chance. He breaks the kiss just long enough to tear off his coat, tossing it aside in one swift motion. His grips your arm as if you’ll run away, holding you in place as his other hand moves to unfasten his jeans.

His lips return to yours with a feverish intensity, the kiss hard and demanding. He’s not giving you room to think, to protest, to do anything but feel the overwhelming power of his need.

Despite the turmoil raging within you melt into his embrace. His touch so familiar is powerful makes everything else fade away.

He’s holding onto you, to make you forget, to keep you here with him and the desperation in his touch is impossible to ignore.

Without breaking the kiss, Benny grips your arm and pulls you toward the dresser with sudden, forceful energy. His hold is firm, his need undeniable as he presses you against the unforgiving surface. There’s no room for words, no space for second thoughts his intentions are clear.

He yanks your dress up, the cold air hitting your skin, making you shiver. The tears you’ve been holding back prick at your eyes, but before they can spill, Benny’s hands are on you, pulling you back into the moment, pulling you back to him. His fingers are rough as they spread your legs wide, finding their place with a familiarity that’s charged with a new level of intensity.

He doesn’t hesitate and pulls your panties aside, finding you’re already slick from his touch, your body betraying the chaos in your mind. The moment he pushes his tip into you, a painful moan escapes your lips, vibrating through your entire body.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust, doesn’t even consider it. He thrusts in with one forceful, push his size filling you entirely causing an ache you can barely withstand.

“Benny,” you gasp, your voice trembling as you struggle to catch your breath, wanting to ask him to slow down, to give you a moment.

But Benny is beyond that now. His pace is brutal, relentless, his hips snapping against you with an intensity that leaves you reeling, your body caught between pleasure and pain. Each thrust sends a shockwave through you, the friction overwhelming as your walls tighten around him.

The harsh sound of slapping skin fills the room, mingling with the desperate moans that tear from your throat as your body presses against the dresser. There’s a rawness to his movements, a desperation in the way he’s taking you, like he’s trying to drown out his own pain, his own fear, with every thrust.

Benny’s grip on your waist tightens, his rhythm growing more frantic as he chases his release, as if can find solace in it, that he can somehow escape the reality of what’s happening between you.

You’re both lost in the intensity of the moment, but there’s no relief, no comfort only a desperate, chaotic need that threatens to tear you both apart.

And then, just as suddenly, he stops. He pulls out of you, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness, your body still trembling from the relentless assault. Without a word, Benny grabs your waist and hastily pulls you away from the dresser.

He practically lifts you onto the bed, his hands shaking as he positions you beneath him. You catch a glimpse of his face, and your heart tightens at the sight—his eyes are red-rimmed, filled with a torment he’s barely holding back. He’s fighting to keep control, but the tears are there, threatening to fall, the raw emotion in his gaze nearly breaking you all over again.

He hesitates for just a moment, his breath catching in his throat, before he pushes your panties aside once more, and thrusts back into you with force.

The way he fills you again so quickly sends shockwaves through your aching core as you arch from the bed.

His weight bears down on you, his hips grinding into yours with a ferocity. The pleasure builds, but it’s a dark, jagged thing, tearing through you as your body starts to surrender to the intensity.

The initial ache gives way to something deeper, more profound. Your moans are filled with a mix of pain and need, as he continues his relentless thrusts, refusing to let you go, refusing to give in.

His face buries into the crook of your neck his breaths hot and ragged against your skin, and you feel his tears mix with your sweat. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as if he’s trying to anchor himself to you.

“Don’t leave me,” he chokes out, his voice thick with anguish, muffled against your skin but clear enough to cut through you like a knife.

“Benny,” you gasp, feeling the raw emotion in his voice, the way his need is almost suffocating. You hold him tighter, knowing you need to do something, say something to bring him back from the edge.

His thrusts slow, becoming deeper, more deliberate, like he’s trying to carve his presence into your very soul, to make sure you feel him long after this moment ends

You feel his anguish and torment as he groans, his voice filled with pain, his hands gripping your hips with an intensity that matches the depth of his thrusts. He’s making you his, pouring every ounce of his desperation into you. In that moment you understand you can’t leave him, not when he needs you so desperately.

“Benny,” you whisper in his ear, your voice soft but steady, trying to ground him, to pull him out of the spiral he’s caught in.

“I won’t leave you.” You confess. Your words cut through his heavy desperation, and he lifts his face to yours, his eyes brimming with an emotion so intense it steals the breath from your lungs. He kisses you, and it’s not gentle, it’s desperate, frantic, his lips filled with a hunger that’s all-consuming.

His body presses harder against yours, each thrust deep and powerful, driven by the turmoil raging inside him. He loses himself in the feeling of you, moaning against your mouth as his muscles tense, every inch of his body thrusting against yours with wild, unrestrained passion.

His hips drive forward with a force that leaves you breathless, every thrust a wordless plea, as if he’s trying to drown out everything else—the anger, the fear, the guilt—desperately holding onto you as his salvation.

Your hands slide up to cradle his face, and you kiss him back with everything you have, trying to pour all the reassurance you can into that kiss.

Your body responds to every thrust, your own pleasure building as he pours all the pent up emotions he’s been holding back into each movement.

You moan his name, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all, as you feel him tense against you, his cock pulsing as he nears his release. His thrusts become frantic, his desperation to hold onto you undeniable.

He cups your jaw, his fingers digging in just enough to make you focus on him, his eyes locking onto yours, the vulnerability in his gaze making your heart race. “Tell me you love me,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion.

“I love you, Benny,” you say, and it’s the truth, even in this dark, twisted moment. You pour every ounce of yourself into the words, pulling him into a deep, desperate kiss. The connection between you grows stronger, more intense, as his body begins to shudder, his control slipping away.

He groans into your mouth, his muscles tensing as he finally reaches his peak, he presses as close to you as possible, holding you against him as he comes with a final desperate thrust. His hips push against you forcefully his cock pulsing his release into you.

He collapses against you, his breath coming in heavy gasps as your arms hold him close, feeling the weight of everything that’s passed between you and you hold him tighter, knowing you’re all he has in this moment.

His breaths are warm against your neck, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. You trail your hand down his back, your touch soothing, comforting, something that grounds him, even in the midst of all his chaos and as the room falls into a heavy silence, he basks in the comfort of your arms, finding peace in your embrace.

You thread your fingers through his hair, and the connection between you feels different now, deeper, more intimate than before.

The weight of his turmoil seems to lift as he realizes that he has you, and you are everything to him and he knows now he will never let you go.

For the first time Benny feels completely loved, wrapped in your warmth and security finding what he has always longed for.

After a moment in shared silence, he finally speaks from the heart.

“I’m going to leave the club,” he says, his voice steady with newfound resolve as he rests against your chest feeling your fingers affectionately weave through his hair.

“I have to take care of one more thing with Johnny today, and then I’m out,” he confirms, tilting his head up to look at you, his eyes filled with determination.

You nod, feeling a surge of emotion wash over you. For the first time, you truly believe that you and Benny will be free, that there’s a future for both of you beyond this life.

He wipes the tears from his face, grounding himself in the warmth of your body and you gently take his hand and place it on the side of your stomach, your heart pounding with what you’re about to say.

“Benny, you were right,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly with emotion and be looks down at your hand as you place it over his, the significance of the gesture slowly dawning on him. “I am pregnant,” you reveal softly.

For a moment, time seems to stand still. His eyes widen with the realization, and you see the shock flood his expression all at once. In that instant, everything changes for him. It’s as if the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders, and a new purpose has settled into his heart. This—this is what he’s always wanted, even if he never dared to hope for it.

His eyes search yours with an intensity that leaves you speechless. “We’re going to have a baby,” he whispers, almost in disbelief, his voice heavy with emotion. The words hang in the air, filled with awe and reverence. You smile and nod, cupping his face gently, seeing a new side of Benny right in front of your eyes —one full of hope and tenderness.

“I’m going to take care of everything,” he promises, his voice firm with newfound determination. “We’re going to be free, and I’m going to give you and our baby the life you deserve.” He says with conviction.

The road ahead is now clear to him, more important than ever before. His resolve to protect you, to protect this new little life growing inside of you, deepens into an unshakable certainty.

The future he’s been so unsure of now holds a new and profound meaning, and he’s completely devoted to you and the family you’re about to create together.

Stay Gone

Benny gets on his bike, a faint smile forming on his lips. The thought of you, pregnant with his child, fills him with a warmth he’s never felt before. He loves you, and he’ll never leave you as long as he lives.

As he rides toward the Vandals’ bar, a surprising sense of relief washes over him. He’s ready to leave the club, something he’s never seen an original member do before. He wonders what Johnny will say. Benny knows he could’ve gotten out when he broke his leg, but he’s always been loyal, always honest with Johnny. After all, Johnny was the one who took him in when he was abandoned and alone, welcoming him with open arms and the rest is history.

The whole ordeal of Johnny’s meeting today stems from the night at the party when you were attacked by the newer Vandals.

Benny had left you to deal with the aftermath of another brutal incident when Cockroach, one of the original members, had been beaten to a bloody pulp by a group of new recruits.

He told the newer Vandals around a campfire that he planned to leave the club and become a police officer. But the new recruits, coming from different sects, had begun creating their own rules, transforming the brotherhood into something harsh and unforgiving. In their world, loyalty had taken on a brutal, unyielding edge, and in their eyes, pigs don’t fly with bikers.

When Cockroach left the campfire to relieve himself, three of the newer members exchanged a knowing look of agreement, disgusted by what they deemed his disloyalty. Without hesitation, they took turns beating him to within an inch of his life.

Johnny, Cal, Wahoo, and Benny saw the aftermath—concern flickering between them as they took in the severity of the beating on one of their own. The unspoken tension hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment that their brotherhood was being torn apart from the inside.

After Cockroach healed up, he arrived at the club with his head hung low. He wanted out; he wanted to start a new life. Benny and the other members listened to his tale in silence. Once he limped out of the bar, everyone felt unsettled he was an original member, and this would set the precedent for how anyone who wanted to leave would be treated.

Johnny turned to Benny, with a solemn knowing look. “You still got your pistol?” He asked

“Yeah, why?” Benny replied.

“Because we’re gonna go see Cockroach,” Johnny said with a dark glint in his eye.

Now, as Benny reaches the club in the afternoon, he dismounts his bike, pistol tucked securely in the back of his waistband.

During the argument with you, when he discreetly had to hide the fact that he was carrying a gun, he knew the club had indeed become corrupted.

The days of freedom and friendship are now, power shifts and territorial disputes favoring drugs and violence. He doesn’t know what Johnny has planned needing his pistol, but he’s almost certain they won’t kill Cockroach to set an example for leaving the Vandals.

He pushes the doors open to the low hum of blues playing in the background, the usual bar sounds mixing with the music. He spots Johnny and Cal drinking in the corner. He can already hear the sadness in Johnny’s voice as he finishes telling a story about Brusy, making all the guys nod, feeling the weight of Brusys recent passing. “Live a biker, die a biker,” Johnny says, downing a shot.

As soon as Johnny sets the glass down, he smiles, seeing Benny. “There he is!” Johnny says, chuckling as he gets up.

“Johnny, we need to talk,” Benny says, his tone serious.

“About our little mission to see Cockroach? We’ll discuss that later. Come have some drinks, join the guys,” Johnny says, gesturing him over.

But Benny doesn’t budge. “It’s about my wife,” he says with tension.

The room falls silent, and everyone turns to look at Benny, sensing the gravity of his words.

Johnny scratches the back of his head, a bit of apprehension creeping into his voice. “What about her?” he asks, glancing over with a knowing expression on his face.

“She won’t be coming around the club anymore,” Benny says, his voice firm.

Johnny nods slowly. “Good, good. You know, it’s different now. She really shouldn’t—this is a man’s world,” he says, prompting a round of chuckles from the bikers.

Benny knows Johnny won’t side with him on this. Even though the men touched you, Johnny dismissed it as a mistake, chalking it up to confusion with the prostitutes around. But the fact that they manhandled you so violently, despite knowing you screamed for your life, shows they have no shame. You were deliberately targeted.

Johnny senses the shift in Benny’s demeanor, hears the edge in his voice sees the fire in his eyes. He knows Benny’s planning something, and he’s determined to remind him tonight what happens when someone tries to leave on their own terms.

Benny doesn’t join Johnny’s table. Instead, he heads to the bar, sitting alone with his thoughts as he orders a drink.

As Benny downs his glass, his mind drifts to you, how you’ll spend your lives together, raising your child. He’s keeping this precious part of his life to himself, knowing it’s one less thing Johnny can use against him if it comes to that.

At nightfall, Johnny drives Benny to a quiet neighborhood on the lower east side near the tracks. With Benny as second in command, Johnny wants to enforce the new rule for leaving the club, using Cockroach as the example.

Johnny pops the trunk, and Benny’s eyes widen in surprise when he sees a shotgun inside. Johnny grabs the shotgun, slams the trunk shut, and gestures for Benny to follow.

Benny pulls his gun from his waistband as they creep through the neighborhood.

“Don’t do nothin’. Just follow me,” Johnny whispers.

They finally stop in front of a house on the back row.

Johnny cocks and aims the shotgun, blasting the door handle. The loud sound and flash take Benny aback.

They walk through the clearly abandoned house to the kitchen.

A solitary figure sits in the darkness on a chair. When he stands up and steps into the light, Benny recognizes Cockroach. He’s battered and bruised, looking up at Johnny with a glum expression. He knew this was coming; he got the call to stay put until Johnny arrived, allowing him the dishonor of leaving the Vandals.

“Give me your pistol,” Johnny says to Benny. Benny looks at Cockroach, then back to Johnny, and silently hands over his weapon.

Johnny takes Benny’s pistol and, without hesitation aims it at Cockroach’s knee, firing a shot. Cockroach wails in agony as Johnny wipes the blood around his wound

“You let it bleed,” Jonny says, locking eyes with Cockroach, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. His voice is low, unyielding

“Go now and stay gone.” Johnny says with menace. It’s the final, brutal declaration of excommunication from the Vandals, and there’s no mistaking the seriousness in Jonny’s tone.

This isn’t just a warning it’s a death sentence to any ties Cockroach had with the club. The message is unmistakable: the brotherhood is severed from him forever.

Johnny hands Benny his pistol, and Benny feels the heavy weight of it in his hand—the weight of what the club has become.

Benny takes one last look at Cockroach, thinking of all the years and rides they’d shared, only for him to be shot in the leg, perhaps never to ride again and tucks his pistol into the waistband at his back following Johnny out into the night.

The drive back to the Vandals’ bar is silent, not a word spoken between them, both retreating into their thoughts, the weight of the situation hanging heavily on their minds. When the car parks on the familiar street in front of the club, Johnny cuts off the engine

“What the fuck was that?” Benny finally asks stunned by the brutality.

Johnny sighs. “That was taking care of Cockroach,” he emphasizes.

“Like you took care of my wife?” Benny glares at him, his eyes full of rage, still unsettled over what happened to you.

Johnny looks Benny in the eyes, recognizing the accusation, and simply nods.

“Is that what this club is now?” Benny asks. “Is that who we are?” His voice presses, challenging the violent turn the club has taken.

Johnny takes his time, lighting a cigarette. “That’s it,” he answers flatly.

Disgusted, Benny immediately gets out of the car.

Johnny stubs out his cigarette and quickly hops out after him, “Benny, wait!” He shouts.

Benny turns around, his face a mix of anger and dismissal.

“These new guys… these young guys, they don’t listen,” Johnny tries to explain, his tone pleading.

Benny just stares at Johnny, his expression hardening

Johnny’s eyes are almost begging. “I can’t run this club no more,” he admits, his voice heavy with defeat.

Benny looks at Johnny, seeing the desperation in his eyes. For a moment hesitates, torn between his loyalty to Johnny and the overwhelming need to be with you.

Johnny’s eyes plead. “I need you,” he says.

After a moment of thought, Benny finally speaks, making his decision to leave the Vandals clear.

“I don’t ask anyone for anything, and I don’t want anything from nobody,” he says firmly, his eyes locked on Johnny.

“It’s not me, and it’s never gonna be me.” His voice is firm with the weight of his decision, the rejection of Johnny’s offer to lead the Vandals is final.

The two men stare at each other for a moment longer—Benny leaving the club, and Johnny left with a club he no longer wants to lead.

Without another word, Benny turns, hops on his bike, and with a swift kick, roars the engine to life. The sound echoes through the night as he speeds off into the darkness, leaving the Vandals, and Johnny, behind for good.

Out Good

When Benny arrives home, he parks his bike in the driveway, feeling a huge weight lifted from his shoulders he’s finally done with the Vandals. As he dismounts, his hand lingers on the handlebar, his heart heavy with memories of the guys—their adventures, the campfires, the meetings, and the endless rides with the club. Without his pack, he feels like a lone wolf, but now he knows he is creating a new wolf pack of his own with you. One that will last forever.

After Benny showers downstairs, he quietly enters the master bedroom, trying not to disturb you, but you’re already awake, having heard his bike. “Benny?” you call out softly, sitting up in the dark.

“Yeah baby,” he replies, sitting on the bed and climbing in close, pressing himself against you.

his presence soothes you instantly “Benny, I was so worried,” you say softly and he kisses your cheek, his lips lingering warmly against your skin. “You don’t have to worry baby,” he whispers gently.

He kisses you slowly, laying you down on your back, his heart filled with desire. You are the center of his world, the one who kept him from letting the club consume him entirely.

He pauses the kiss to look down at you, hesitating for a moment, almost reverent before he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with emotion as he gazes into your eyes. “For everything I put you through…you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“Benny…” you begin, reaching up to affectionately touch his jaw, and he leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand.

“I’m sorry too,” you say softly, and he looks at you, confused. “For what, baby?” he asks, placing your hand on his chest, holding it there.

“I actually thought of leaving you, Benny,” you admit, your voice heavy with emotion. His expression softens as he cups your face gently. “I know, baby…but after everything I put you through,” he says, his hand trailing down your arm in a comforting gesture. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice full of regret, knowing deep down that you are far better than he ever thought he deserved.

“You deserve more than you think,” you say with a soft smile, guiding his hand to your navel. His eyes follow, looking down at your hands together over your stomach, and he feels a wave of relief wash over him.

“I’ll never leave you Benny,” you promise as he presses his hand over yours, feeling the strength of your commitment, and for the first time he believes you.

“I know, baby,” he whispers, his hand gently trailing up to your jaw, holding it tenderly as he leans down to kiss you softly.

His lips move slowly over yours, full of love and longing, his emotions overflowing because he’s yours, completely. You reach up, threading your fingers through his hair, knowing that you’re both bonded together permanently, with a future full of endless possibilities to create the life you both want.

Bennys Decision

As the weeks turn into months, your belly grows bigger and rounder. The cute summer dresses you once wore have been replaced by long, flouncy dresses that comfortably fit your growing bump. Benny, fueled by his enthusiasm for repairing motorcycles, has enrolled in trade school, leaving you every day to work toward his degree and provide fulfilling purpose for your new lives.

You’ve both decided that once he graduates, he will open a shop in the heart of Chicago, where he can repair cars and motorcycles alike. It was always a dream of yours to open a business, inspired by the guidance of your father, and you are overjoyed that it will now be for Benny.

At trade school, Benny quickly makes friends with like minded enthusiasts, bonding over discussions of engine tuning, and custom builds. The friendship among them eases the transition from Benny old life to this new, more hopeful one.

Benny hasn’t seen the Vandals for months, and though he’s not out bad, all the members know to steer clear of him. The distance is both a relief and a lingering shadow in his heart.

One afternoon, as you water the plants in the kitchen, the faint sound of a motorcycle catches your ear. Smiling, you assume Benny is home and put on your housecoat to greet him. The fabric wraps around your bump, and you take a moment to button it up before stepping outside.

As you step into the crisp, cool air, you’re surprised to see Johnny instead of Benny at the curb. “ Hi Johnny” you greet him as the autumn breeze tugs at the hem of your coat, and you pull it tighter around yourself.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Johnny responds, though there’s a lingering sadness in his eyes for who he really wanted to see. “Benny around?” he asks, stepping forward but keeping a respectful distance.

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling the cool breeze nip at your skin. The weight of your pregnancy makes standing in the cold tiring, so you ease yourself into the rocking chair on the front porch.

“You know Benny,” you say with a warm smile as you settle into the chair.

Johnny nods, his gaze drifting to the quiet street before returning to you. He hesitates, studying your demeanor, the wind rustling through the trees the only sound breaking the silence between you.

“You look good,” he finally says with a reluctant grin. “Cold weather’s got you glowing with the whole rosy cheeks thing,” he adds, pointing.

You smile, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes as you begin rocking in your chair. Johnny’s clueless comment makes you smirk to yourself. The warmth of the secret you’re carrying adds an extra layer of satisfaction as you bask in the quiet moment.

“What is it, Johnny?” you ask, noticing his eyes narrow as he studies you, a flicker of recognition in his glance.

He shifts his weight and gives you a small, almost knowing grin. “Yeah, do me a favor,” he says, the grin not quite reaching his eyes.

“Sure,” you respond, curious.

“Don’t tell Benny I stopped by,” Johnny says and the words carry a weight that’s hard to miss.

You smile with a bit of resignation, remembering the times you had your own doubts about Benny, when you weren’t sure he’d ever change for you. But he did, and now you both stand on the other side of that decision.

Johnny takes one last glance back at you, something unreadable in his expression, before turning and getting on his new, expensive bike. The engine roars to life, and with a final look your way, he rides off down the street, disappearing into the distance.

As you watch him go, you feel the bittersweetness of the moment. Benny chose you over Johnny, and that choice brought you here, to this new chapter. The bond between them may have been strong, but Benny’s love for you was stronger.

You pull your coat a little tighter around yourself, feeling the weight of the moment, and then slowly rise from the chair, ready to step back into the warmth of your home and the life you’ve built together with Benny.

Some Kid

Benny wakes up early with the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. He has a final at trade school in the afternoon, so he decides to take advantage of the quiet hours of the morning to complete some tasks around the house.

Lying beside you, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead before his hand slides down to rest on your swollen belly. With only a few more weeks to go, the anticipation fills the air in the quiet house. You stir slightly, rolling over a sleepy smile spreading across your face. “Mmmm,” you murmur as you stretch, and Benny’s arms wrap around you, pulling you close.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispers, his voice soft and full of warmth as your eyes flutter open.

“Good morning, handsome,” you reply, your smile widening as he strokes your hair lovingly.

“You want me to make you something to eat?” he asks, his tone gentle. You shake your head, stifling a yawn with your hand.

“Just rest then,” he says, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. You nod in agreement, your eyes closing again as he carefully slips out of bed.

After a quick shower, Benny gets dressed for the day and heads down the hall to the nursery.

As he pushes the door open, he can’t help but smile. Everything inside has been handmade and painted by him in preparation for the impending arrival. He’s painted the walls, built a bookshelf, and constructed a changing table. Now, he sits down to put the finishing touches on the cribs, his heart swelling with pride and love. Unlike him his kin will want for nothing.

By the time Benny finishes, you’ve joined him in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair he made. You’re engrossed in a book on business operations for opening a mechanic shop, your hand resting protectively on your belly. Benny comes over, leaning down to plant a loving kiss on your lips.

“I gotta go,” he says, knowing it’s time to head out.

You pull him back, kissing him in return and he rubs his hand along your belly kneeling down, pressing his lips to your bump. “Stay put until I get back,” he says softly to your womb, making you giggle.

“I’ll see you all later,” he says affectionately his hand lingering on yours before leaving.

Just before noon, Benny sets off for trade school. The class is routine and after finishing his exam, he shoots the breeze with his friends before everyone departs and he begins the ride home.

As Benny rides, a tug of sadness pulls at his heart. The familiar feel of the wind and the rumble of his bike brings back memories of riding in a pack, of belonging. Now, he’s solo, and the loneliness seeps in. At a red light, instead of turning toward home, he finds himself heading into a rougher neighborhood. He stops a few blocks short of the Vandals club and strides into a nearby bar with a practiced ease, sitting down and ordering a whiskey.

The bar is loud and rowdy filled with bikers murmuring about a recent shooting. “Yea some kid challenged him and instead of fighting like a man the kid shot the guy point blank in the chest. Guy died right on the spot in the parking lot, well known biker too.”

“Yeah, he ran the Vandals club,” one of the older bikers chimes in, then notices Benny at the bar . “Hey, didn’t you ride with that guy?”

Benny’s face goes ashen as the realization hits him. It’s Johnny who’s been shot. He swallows hard, the lump in his throat nearly choking him. “His name was Johnny, right?” the biker asks, and without looking over, Benny nods. He slowly downs his shot with haunted sadness in his eyes, the turmoil inside him undeniable. After a moment, he pays his tab and exits the bar into the cold evening air.

Outside, the weight of the news crashes over him like a tidal wave and Benny feels the wind sucked out of him as memories of Johnny flood his mind—Johnny’s laughter, his words of encouragement, the way he never took anything too seriously. Johnny, his best man, his mentor in every way that mattered.

Benny’s heart shatters right there in the parking lot. He grits his teeth, trying to hold back the emotion, but it’s too much. Quickly, he mounts his bike and drives home, the wind lashing at his face as he pushes the speed, the adrenaline barely masking the agony gnawing at his insides.

When he pulls up to the house, you’re already on the porch, hearing the loud roar of his motorcycle as he sped down the street.

Benny dismounts, and the sight of him breaks your heart. His eyes are red rimmed, his face a mask of anguish, as if he’s on the verge of tears but trying desperately to hold it together.

He walks toward you with slow, heavy steps, his breath catching as he struggles to keep his emotions in check. You can see it in his eyes, something terrible has happened.

As he reaches you, Benny collapses onto the porch steps, the weight of his emotions pulling him down. When you sit with him and he buries his head against your chest, and that’s when the dam finally breaks. He sobs uncontrollably, his cries raw and desperate, his breath hitching as he gasps for air. His handsome face is twisted in torment, his body shaking with the force of his grief.

“…Johnnys …dead…” he finally gasps out his voice trembling and you hold him close. You wrap your arms around him tightly as if you could shield him from the pain. Your fingers gently stroke his hair, your other hand rubbing soothing circles on his back as you press soft kisses to his head, though you know nothing can ease the ache in his heart.

Benny clings to you, his sobs unrelenting, the loss of Johnny cutting deep into his soul. He’s inconsolable, the grief overwhelming him, as if the very foundation of his world has been ripped away. The weight of Johnny’s death has broken him, and all you can do is hold him, letting him release the torrent of pain he’s been holding inside.

Time seems to stand still as you sit together on the porch, the evening air cool around you. Benny’s cries slowly begin to subside, his body exhausted from the intensity of his emotions. You continue to hold him, your presence a steady anchor in the storm of his grief, your love the only thing keeping him from being completely lost to the darkness.

When the Bow Breaks

When Benny prepares you dinner a few weeks later, he’s starting to return to some semblance of himself. His movements are still weighed down by grief, but he pushes through, focusing on taking the best care of you. The lingering sadness in his eyes is evident, but he channels all his energy into caring for you.

“C’mon, baby, you need to eat for us,” he urges gently, noticing you toying with the food on your plate again. “You haven’t eaten a thing today” he says noticing your expression unsettled.

“I cant…Benny, I don’t feel well,” you reply softly, a touch of sadness in your voice.

Concerned, he comes to your side, placing the back of his hand to your forehead to check for a fever. “You’re burning up, baby,” he says, worry creeping into his voice as he feels your clammy skin scorching his hand.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he insists, his concern growing.

As you stand, a sharp pain grips your lower abdomen, and you wince, instinctively reaching holding his hand steadying yourself. The sensation intensifies, spreading through your body like a wave, and suddenly, you both realize what’s happening—your labor has begun.

Benny’s eyes light up, despite the terror flashing in them, as the reality of the moment sinks in. “Baby! It’s happening!” he exclaims, his breath catching in a mix of excitement and fear.

In that instant, all thoughts of the loss that has haunted him are pushed aside. His focus is entirely on you, the woman he loves more than anything and he’s prepared to welcome his offspring into the world.

He sets you gently on the couch, his every movement tender, though the pain intensifies with each passing second. “It hurts, baby?” he asks, his voice laced with worry seeing your face flushed as you breath sharply with your eyes closed.

“Yeah, Benny really bad,” you gasp, gripping the edge of the cushion as another wave of pain hits you.

“Wait right here,” he says, darting upstairs. He returns in a flash with his rucksack, packed with everything you’ll need for the hospital. Carefully, he helps you into the car, his hands steady but his heart racing with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

Every bump, every turn of the car has you moaning in pain, and Benny does his best to drive softer, his heart pounding as he tries to keep you as comfortable as possible.

The tension is undeniable, the anticipation almost overwhelming as he finally parks the car under the hospital awning.

“Wait right here, don’t move,” he says, dashing inside. Moments later, he’s back with the medical staff, who quickly load you into a wheelchair. By now, the pain is agonizing, your body covered in a light sheen of sweat, your face flushed. Benny walks alongside you, his emotions a chaotic mix of panic and thrill as you’re wheeled into the hospital room where you will give birth.

An hour passes, filled with the struggle and strain of labor. Dozens of pushes later, Benny is right by your side, your hand clinging tightly to his, your body spent. “I can’t do it,” you relent, tears of exhaustion brimming in your eyes.

“C’mon, baby,” he says, his voice firm yet gentle. “Just keep your eyes on me. you’re almost there. just one more push.”

His words give you the strength you didn’t know you had, and with one final, determined push, the sound of a baby’s cries fills the air. You look at Benny, your eyes shaking with disbelief and joy. Then, to your astonishment, another cry follows, and together, the sound of new life fills the room, echoing around you both.

The medical staff moves quickly, cleaning and wrapping the babies in soft blankets. They place a tiny, wriggling boy in Benny’s arms, and a precious little girl in yours. You both are ecstatic, your hearts swelling with a love so profound it brings tears to your eyes.

Benny is overcome with emotion, his eyes welling up as he gazes down at his son. He’s so filled with joy he can barely speak. “This is the happiest day of my life,” he chokes out, his voice thick with tears.

You’re exhausted, your body aching from the ordeal, but as you look down at the tiny bundles in your arms, your heart fills with a love you’ve never known before. Benny coos softly at his son, then reaches out to touch his daughter’s bundled up form, his hand trembling with joy.

He carefully places your son into your arms, so you’re holding both of your newborns together. Overwhelmed with happiness, Benny leans in and kisses all three of you, his lips lingering on your forehead, then brushing against each baby’s head. His body trembles with pure, unfiltered joy, and you can’t help but get wrapped up in his excitement.

As you cradle your babies, Benny’s eyes meet yours, and in that moment, you know that this is what you both have been waiting for this is the life you’ve fought for. He kisses you again, a deep, lingering kiss full of love and gratitude, and as you hold your family close, you realize that nothing else matters. This is your world, and it’s perfect.

Florida

After several years together Benny is now a full fledged mechanic and business owner, with his shops so renowned in Chicago, he’s even expanded to Florida where the two of you purchased a beautiful vacation home to escape the harsh winters.

Your Florida home is a stunning two story, three bedroom house that radiates warmth and comfort. The exterior is a blend of sandy beige and soft white, with large windows that allow the bright Florida sun to flood the interior with light. The front yard is warm and inviting, with a swing set for the twins surrounded by lush greenery and vibrant flowers.

On the second floor, the spacious bedrooms each have their own balcony, offering breathtaking views of the surrounding area. The master bedroom’s balcony is your personal oasis, where you watch the sunrise over the ocean with Benny in the mornings.

Inside, the décor is a mix of modern elegance and cozy touches of plush furniture, hardwood floors, and soft, muted tones that create a sense of peace and relaxation.

The first floor is Bennys garage haven filled with his impressive collection of cars and motorcycles. Though he doesn’t ride as often anymore, you still see the flicker of excitement in his eyes when he hears the loud roar of a bike nearby.

Today is no different as you glance out from the second story large pane glass window of the kitchen. You catch Benny’s expression as he listens intently to the sound of a motorcycle that fills the air in the distance, a look of nostalgia and joy lighting up his face.

He’s sitting with his friends by the back yard pool beer in hand. The barbecue is going strong nearby with one of your neighbors tending to the hot dogs on the grill.

“Daddy’s looking at you,” Bella says, her voice full of innocent mischief. You turn away from your task of putting the finishing whisk on the potato salad, crouching down to your daughters level.

“Is he now?” you ask playfully, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she waves at her daddy.

You look up to see Benny gazing at you with that warm, affectionate smile that never fails to make your heart flutter. His hair is longer and a bit sandier blonde from the Florida sun, gently swept back. A handsome mustache now adorns his face, framing his full lips in a way that makes him even more striking.

Suddenly Benny’s eyes light up even more, and he begins to laugh. You follow his line of sight and see your son, Johnny, pressing his face against the glass window, licking it with all the enthusiasm a six year old can muster.

“Johnny!” you call out, half-chiding, half-laughing. He bursts into a fit of giggles, pulling back from the window with a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, you two let’s go see Daddy,” you say, picking up the bowl of potato salad. Bella slips her small hand into yours, and little Johnny follows closely behind, his toy motorcycle clutched in his hand. He drives it along the wall as he walks, making the familiar “brrrrn brrrrr” sound with his little voice, lost in his imagination.

As you reach the landing and turn toward the pool, your neighbors over for the barbecue-b-que wave and smile, the sound of jazz floating through the air from the large outdoor speakers. The neighbors kids are all squealing and running around, their laughter blending with the music. Benny stands up to greet you all, his smile broadening as he kneels to hold Bella, hugging her tight. He ruffles little Johnnys hair before they both run off to join the other children at the party.

You place the potato salad with the rest of the dishes on the long table, looking over the array of delicious food with a satisfied grin. Benny makes his way over to you, his eyes never leaving you. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“I can’t keep my eyes off you in this little dress,” he whispers against your ear, his breath warm and his tone full of affection.

You grin, a playful twinkle in your eye. “You’re insatiable, Benny Cross,” you tease, your voice soft and loving.

“You bring it out of me,” he murmurs back, his words filled with warmth and adoration. He turns you in his arms, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, feeling the strength and comfort of him as he holds you close. Benny leans in, his lips capturing yours in a long, loving kiss. It’s a kiss full of passion and tenderness, a kiss that speaks of the deep love and connection you share.

As his lips move against yours, you feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. His hand slides up your back, holding you gently yet securely, as if you’re the most precious thing in his world. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and he gazes into your eyes with a look of pure, unfiltered love.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice low and full of emotion.

“I love you too, Benny,” you reply, your heart swelling with happiness as you lean in to kiss him again, savoring the taste of his lips and the feel of his arms around you.

🏍️ THE END 🏍️

Special thanks: purejasmine, burnthheparaphilia & butdaddyilovehim99 I couldn’t have done it without you.

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List 🏍️

@finley-08 @ashleybutler-26 @ifuckindontknow @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @autumnleaves1991-blog @presley1992 @rose-deathman @sillylittlethrowaway @lillypink @faephoria @nostalgichoya @ausssbutlershortstories @fallout-girl219

🏷️ Always Tags Me List 💌 @faegoddessog @lindszeppelin @abswifey @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @unicoreads @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @jkdaddy01 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @gravesdiggergirl

[crystallilytarot]

Choose an item! Some random messages about your future life.

Pile 1

The struggles are over dear. Your life is more balanced now. You can rest a little, and have a little fun now too. Don't forget about your inner child, you deserve a little playfulness. You are more confident and not afraid to stand up for yourself, as you should. You are so smart, you are more capable than you think. You will have some people of your soul family, people who are similar as you. Probably you will meet someone soon too, you are a very good match. They can be your soulmate.

Pile 2

You were finally able to move away some toxic things, some of you will move to somewhere else too. If you have a dream destination, you will be able to travel to there. Change is always scary a little, but it will be so much better after. You will be brave, confident and optimistic. You find something you are passionate about. There can be an old friend you reconnect with. You are proud of yourself and you have so much things to celebrate. Your relationship will move to the next level or you can start a connection if you are single now.

Pile 3

Keep going, you are so close to your goals! Your hard work will pay off, you will be so succesful. You have faith and hope again. You will start a new chapter in your life in a lot of ways. You socialize more, you can go to some party, celebration or a festival. You can have plans because you have the resources now. You believe in yourself and love yourself more. There can be a job elsewhere or you start a long term relationship. You can travel a lot, but some of you will prepare to relocate too. Your life is more harmonious now.