#benjamin slack

[neovenatorgirlteeth]

ASUDFYUFDYAVUF&UWEYFDAGDDIUAHADGIGUISFFSFFSFSF I'M GOING TO FUCKING EXPLODE

[ejlovesvi]

note: i didn’t proofread this so i apologize if there are any spelling errors or mistakes. enjoy!

THERE’S ANOTHER ONE?

pairing: taylor swift x fem!reader

warnings: fluffy, kissing, alcohol intake, tay being upset that her fur babies love you more than her

masterlist

the night had been amazing so far. you and taylor had gone on your first date and everything went perfect. you two went to a nice restaurant and sat in the far back table where you giggled like school girls and gushed about shared interests.

so now as taylor giggles drunkenly, fiddling with her key to open her door, you can’t help but hope this isn’t a one time thing. she finally opens the door and swings it open, sighing in sweet relief. she kicks her shoes off and turns to face you when you close the door behind yourself as you take in the environment.

your eyes lock back on her and you smile girlishly at her soft gaze. you begin to take your shoes off all while maintaining the eye contact, “what?” you simply ask with a small laugh.

taylor bites her lip to contain her smile and shakes her head, “tonight’s been so amazing. i feel invincible right now.”

you grin at her, walking forward until you wrap your arms around the back of her neck, staring up at her with loving eyes. this is rare, for you to feel this in love on the first date. but you can tell taylor feels the same with the way she smiles down and wraps her arms around your waist. it makes you feel less stupid and shameful.

taylor gazes down at you in silence, her eyes heavy with alcohol and exhaustion of the eventful night. nonetheless, she conserves her energy for you, as she doesn’t want this night to end.

“can i kiss you, please?” she asks softly, a bit of her worried she may have misread your pace and signs of the night.

you give her a reassuring nod, “of course.”

she closes the space and just like that sparks fly in the air around you two. her soft lips move against yours slowly and gently, her movements a bit sloppy due to the bottle of wine you two split at the restaurant.

before you have the chance to deepen the kiss you feel something soft and furry move against your leg. you pull away from taylor’s lips and look down, a smile taking over your tingling lips at the sight.

a cat looks up at you with wide eyes, then a small meow escapes it’s mouth. you unhook your grip on taylor’s neck and crouch down to the cat’s level, letting it sniff your hand. taylor watches the interaction with love filled eyes.

“hi baby.” you coo, petting the cat from its neck to it’s tail. you continue the movement and eventually end up sitting criss cross on the floor in front of the door.

the cat climbs onto your lap and you smile in glee as you scratch it with your nails, feeling successful when the cat begins to knead it’s paws into your thighs.

taylor sits in front of you, criss cross as well with a small playful frown. “lucky, meredith never does that with me.”

you glance up at her with raised eyebrows before looking back down to the cat that purrs loudly, nudging her head against your slack hand. “hi meredith.” you whisper and scratch under her chin.

another cat enters the room and freezes once it’s next to taylor. she picks the cat up and places it into her lap, stroking it softly. “this is benjamin button, he’s my baby boy.”

you lean forward slightly and hold your hand out for benjamin to sniff. after a few seconds the cat jumps out of taylor’s lap and climbs onto your other available thigh. you scratch and pet both cats with a smile on your face.

taylor watches with endearment. the urge gets too strong that she impulsively pulls out her phone, snapping a quick photo. you look up with a grin, shaking your head. she shrugs, “had to save the moment. so the kids can see the first time they met you in the future.” she jokes.

it’s a small joke but it makes your stomach flutter. the thought of becoming official with her to be able to call her cat’s yours as well. you blush heavily and lean forward, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

she grins at you with loving eyes before they widen, “oh wait, you still have to meet olivia.”

your eyes widen more than hers as you gasp, “there’s another one?!”

[annwrites]

what happened to you?

— pairing: soldier boy x fem!reader

— type: one-shot

— summary: wishing to make amends, ben ends up on your front porch, only to discover he's too late.

— word count: 3,073

— a/n: i have never watched the boys, so i apologize if any of this is inaccurate, or if i've mischaracterized soldier boy. i gathered what i know/implemented in this fic from tribute vids on yt & reading his fandom wiki.

You were his greatest regret.

But not for the reasons you might think. Or, rather, might’ve thought.

As he stands in front of a familiar porch that he hasn’t seen since the mid-forties, listening to wind-chimes softly tinkling in the breeze, and birds chirping in the apple tree out front, he doesn’t feel the sense of calm he’d expected—hoped for. Instead… He’s sure if a Geiger meter were nearby, it’d be playing a symphony.

He takes one measured step up, onto the front porch, and then another, and another, until he’s standing before the front door—his shoes resting over a mat which welcomes him—with a raised fist that wavers.

Perhaps he’s not welcome here.

He shouldn’t be. Not after how he’d left before.

How could he have left like that?

How could he have expected you to react any differently?

You’d been right. He was, and will forever now be, ‘just an empty suit’.

Finally, he knocks, heart hammering away in his chest, knowing he needs to get himself under control. And quickly.

Slowly, the door opens, the storm screen being pushed outward by an elderly man—fine lines crease his tan, weathered face, his silver hair carefully combed to the side, and he dons a light blue button-up, with beige slacks.

His brows furrow. “Can I help you?”

“I… I’m looking for someone. She lived here a long time ago. Do you happen to know a woman by the name of Y/N?”

The man studies him for a moment. “You mean to say you knew my mother, young man?”

Young man… If only.

“You’re…her son.”

He nods. “I am.”

“Is she here, then? Or, do you have her address so I can—”

“She died. Thirteen years ago.”

His world stops spinning.

He had known that there would be a likely chance. A more than likely chance that this was how it would turn out. But he’d needed to come. Had needed to try.

And he was too late.

He swallows thickly. “I—I don’t know if you know who I am—”

The man looks him over once more, then nods. “I know who you are. I used to watch you on our television set. Well, when I could sneak a peak in, that is.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Thinking of it—thought they said you died yourself? Over in Africa or something, wasn’t it?”

Ben shakes his head. “It’s a long story.”

Chris turns his body sideways then, making a beckoning motion with his hand. “Would you like to come inside, Benjamin?”

His heart stutters, and he just stares.

This had been your home. He doesn’t know that he should…

“Would she have wanted that?” He asks doubtfully.

The man sighs. “To tell you the truth, I think she’d have let you in, just the same as me. You came back after all this time, didn’t you? Must count for something. To make amends, maybe. Never did tell us the full story. Either way, it’s my house now, and I say you’re allowed.”

He steps over the threshold.

Ben sits at the dining table that’s next to the kitchen, just on the other side of a high marble counter, flipping through pages of an old photo album—full of memories.

Of you. Your family. Your life.

Meanwhile, Christopher, your eldest son, makes himself busy in the kitchen preparing a fresh pot of coffee.

“I always wanted one of those action figures of you, you know,” he says.

He rummages around in a cabinet for a moment. “Begged and pleaded for one one Christmas. Momma always told me no. Finally, daddy took and sat me down one night and told me if I asked anymore it’d end with a whoopin’. That he and momma had made it clear you were not welcome in our home in any form. So, I knew it was pretty serious, because he never raised a hand to any of us.”

He waves his hand. “I just thought I’d be able to win her over with puppy-dog eyes like always, but she held firm. After that, I stopped asking. Got a different one instead. Forget what it was now.”

He shrugs, pouring a cup of coffee, and then another, returning to the table.

He sets one down before Ben, who’s seated at the head of the table. He takes the chair to his right, groaning as he sits.

“No fun in getting old,” he says with a wink, but Ben doesn’t smile.

He takes a sip of his coffee. “Guess you wouldn’t know much about it, though. Must be strange sometimes, I reckon.”

Ben flips another page of the album, not bothering with touching his mug. “You have no idea.”

He nods. “Oh, I do. The things these kids get up to nowadays…”

He shakes his head. “No sense anymore. I’m just glad momma passed before it got to the point it’s at now. Not knowing who or what they are—men dressin’ as women and vice versa. Would’ve broken her heart to see.”

He sets his mug down. “She and daddy loved this country. To see it in shambles the way it is—after he fought for it on that beach—”

Ben looks at him. “He was at Normandy?”

Chris nods. “Says you never were. That true?”

Ben is quiet for a moment and then he nods. “It is. I got there two weeks later. It was just propaganda. Just like everything else I ever did.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “A lie.”

Chris shakes his head softly, but doesn’t reply.

Ben smiles at a photo of you sitting on the front porch, smiling softly as you hold your swollen belly between your hands.

Chris glances to it. “That was her and me. Eight children… You believe that? I don’t know how they do it.”

“She always wanted a big family,” Ben replies, turning the page.

“By golly if dad didn’t help give her one. Those two were in love as two people can be. They met in Europe, you know? During the war.”

Ben’s head shoots up. “They did?”

Chris nods. “They’d eventually both been put on the same base. She was a nurse, as you know. And the first time he saw her, he said his heart stopped. Said he turned to the guy next to him, pointed to momma and said ‘that woman is going to be my wife’.”

Ben recalls how he had the exact same reaction when he first met you himself. Being left speechless by the kind look in your beautiful eyes.

No one had ever looked at him like that before. He’d wanted so desperately for them to—for his father to—but they hadn’t. Not until you walked into his life, that is.

Chris grins, shrugging. “Said the fella laughed at him. Said she hardly talked to anyone, so she wasn’t going to be talking to him, neither.”

He looks at Ben. “It was after you disappeared, turns out. But he started comin’ in every day to see her. Flowers in-hand. When he could get a hold of some, that is. When he couldn’t, he’d walk miles off-base when he had a weekend pass and would pick bushels of them so he’d have enough before he got another chance to go out. The guys ribbed him for it, but he didn’t care a lick.”

He takes another sip of his coffee. “Just used to say that after he sets eyes on her, she’d never be lonely again.”

“Sounds like he was telling the truth,” Ben replies quietly.

He clear his throat then. “Did she ever…talk about me?”

Christopher grows serious. “Not if she could help it. If you so much as came on the television set or the radio, she’d just quietly tell us: ‘turn it off’. We asked her why, but she’d just shake her head. It was daddy that took me out in the garage one day—they always had us up to somethin’; momma would have the girls in the house cooking, cleaning, sewing, while daddy would have the boys outside with him—while he worked on our old Coupe, and he told me that you were no hero to them. That the men who fought and died on those beaches and battlefields were. And you weren’t that. Said you were just…how’d he say that, again? Empty suit?”

Ben swallows thickly. “I hope you listened to ‘em. Found better idols.”

“Oh, me and my brothers worshiped the ground our old man walked on. Just thought he was the best thing since sliced bread. Thought he knew and could do every and anything. He was a good man. But he’s gone now, too. Was about a year after momma.”

He stares out the window. “He never was the same after she passed. Used to talk about her like she was still here. Would tell us all the time ‘she’ll be back real soon, just had to run to the store’. I think he just couldn’t accept her being gone. Still gives me chills when I think about his last night with us. He looked right at me—we were just sitting on the porch out there enjoying the evening—and tells me ‘I’m going to see your mother tonight’. We found him the next morning in bed, clutching her robe to his chest.”

He sniffles, clearing his throat. “So we put him next to her. He had two plots picked out before they ever even left us. Headstone was ready to go, other than adding in their dates of death.”

Ben looks at him.

“Me and my siblings take turns visiting on the weekends, bringing flowers and telling them about how boring our lives have gotten, while our grandkids are off to college, and getting married, and having babies of their own.”

He smiles wistfully. “My sister, Elizabeth, her granddaughter is named after momma, actually. She’s twenty now. Going to school to become a doctor.”

He shakes his head with a wistful smile. “A doctor.”

He grins, looking at Ben. “Maybe I’ll get my checkups done for free, huh? Medicare only does so much for an old man with a body that’s falling apart.”

Ben wishes he had that problem. But, instead, he’s practically fucking invincible. The Russians had proved that more times than he could count. If an AK-47 being shoved in his mouth as they held down the trigger hadn’t been enough…what would be?

When Ben turns the next page, he stares down at a photo of you hanging laundry on the line.

You’d just been bringing it inside the last time he saw you.

He’d stepped up proudly onto that porch in full regalia—his new suit—a broad smile on his face, and he’d knocked confidently.

You’d called from inside ‘just a moment!’ and he’d breathed in the scent of warm peach cobbler cooling on the windowsill on the other side of the house.

And then you’d opened the door.

And instead of you throwing yourself into his arms and kissing him, smiling at him, or taking his hand in yours as you tugged him inside and into your bedroom, you’d stepped out with furrowed brows.

“You’re here.”

He’d nodded. “Know I’ve been MIA for awhile, but you’ve probably seen on television, or in magazines—”

“What happened to you?”

He had thought, mistakenly, you’d meant after he disappeared from the Army base. When you woke one morning in bed alone, and when you went looking for him, all you found was a broken heart.

“Long story short, sweetheart,” your stomach had turned at that term of endearment rolling off his tongue. “I volunteered for some government testing and now I’m new and improved. The damn hero of the war!”

You’d wrapped your arms around yourself—he hadn’t seen your engagement ring—as you stared up at him.

That previous look of love that you’d had when you gazed up at him at night while he was inside of you was long gone.

“This isn’t you.”

You’d taken a step forward, reaching a hand up, cupping his cheek. “This isn’t the man I fell in love with.”

He’d soured toward you in an instant. First his father and now…

“What, I’m too much for you now?” He’d sneered. “Too much man for you to handle? Well, that’s fine. Because when it comes to women, I have no shortage of them.”

Your eyes had filled with tears.

“It’s like you’re a completely different person,” you’d whispered.

“And for the better,” he’d snapped back. “But that works out just fine. Me being too much, because now? You wouldn’t be nearly enough for a guy like me.”

You’d choked back a sob, cupping a hand over your mouth, the other remaining wrapped around your middle.

He’d wanted to shove a gun in his mouth.

Because the truth was? The ticker-tape parades, the money, and women, and notoriety meant nothing to him.

After receiving further rejection from his father, he’d gone to you. Wanting you to fix it. To make it all better. Just like you had before.

How could he have ever been delusional enough to think a woman like you would ever accept the parody of himself that he’d become?

“Please leave,” you’d choked out. “And don’t come back. I can’t take seeing you wearing that empty suit again.”

He’d flinched. “Believe me, only time you’ll ever see me again will be in the headlines, honey.”

And then he’d walked away, and as he put one foot in front of the other, all he could hear was your heartbroken sobs behind him.

Finally, Ben shuts the photo album, turning to Christopher. “Were her favorite flowers in the end still tulips?”

Chris’ brows had furrowed. “They were.”

Ben had stood. “Can you tell me what cemetery I can find them at?”

After carefully placing a bouquet of white and pink tulips in the vase mounted atop your side of the headstone, Ben kneels down, gripping the top of it while he looks it over.

On your husband’s side is his name—preceded by his Army rank: corporal—and dates of birth and death, as well as those things he’d been, which had meant the most: beloved son, brother, father, grandfather, and husband. And on yours: beloved daughter, mother, grandmother, and wife.

In the middle are two rings, bound together in stone.

He presses a kiss to the top of your headstone, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry it took me so long to find my way back to you. But I’m here now.”

He sniffles. “Maybe you don’t want me to be.”

He glances to your husband. “Maybe neither of you do. And I’d understand that. I just… I have a lot of things I’d like to say. And I’d like for you both to hear them.”

He sits back, looking at your headstone, his arms wrapped loosely around his bent knees—his hand holding his other wrist. “I went to see your son, Chris. He’s a hell of a kid. Told me stories about the two of you. Told me…”

He shakes his head, glancing away. “I know I broke your heart. I knew it that day. I’d just…hoped maybe you’d forget about me. I wasn’t worth remembering. But I’m sure I was around every goddamn corner you turned. On TV, in the paper, on the news, on store shelves.”

He fucking hates himself for it.

“I never deserved any of it. The only thing I ever really wanted was you. And I threw that chance away. For nothing.”

He laughs without humor. “You want to know what happened to me? In the eighties, the woman I thought I loved…” He shakes his head. “I should’ve known even then it was only ever going to be you.”

He sighs. “She betrayed me. My team did. Handed me off to the Russians. And for three decades they…”

He trails off, then starts again. “The things they did…”

He swallows, shaking his head. “At first I tried to hold onto some misguided hope that she’d come for me. And when I finally resigned myself to the fate of knowing that was never going to happen, I lost myself, instead, in you. You were the only thing I had left to hold onto. I had a whole life with you inside my head…”

He’s quiet for a moment, a small, sad smile playing on his lips as he thinks back on it. “A good life,” he says, nodding.

He runs his hand down his face, wiping away tears. “We had a family. A good marriage. I came back to you and I gave it all up just to have you. And it was the best thing I ever did.”

His shoulders begin to shake. “And then they came and woke me up and tore me away from you. And I realized it had never been real. Not for one goddamn second. I can’t…begin to tell you what that did—has done—to me.”

He looks at your headstone with a watery smile. “But to find out that you got everything you ever wanted? Deserved to have?”

He looks to your husband’s headstone. “Thank you for that. For taking care of our girl. For being the man I never was. I’m just glad she found someone worthy of her. Who deserved her. Because we both know I never did. Thank you for fixing what I broke.”

He looks back to you. “I hope to God you never felt guilty for the things you said to me that day. Because you were the only one willing to. I needed to hear them, even if I didn’t want to. That was your last gift to me: a hard truth. So, thank you.”

He stands, kissing your headstone one last time, his hand fingering a picture in his pocket which Christopher had given him before he’d left—he’d said he’d nearly forgotten he’d had it.

Apparently, the kids had found it in your things after you passed—they’d never told your husband: a photo of you sitting on his lap while he smiled softly at you, you smiling meanwhile at the camera, holding a small American flag in your hand, still in your nurse’s uniform.

At least he’ll have some shred of his humanity to hold onto, with that, in what’s to come. The fact you’d held onto it for all those decades… It’d meant a great deal to him.

“I love you,” he whispers, walking away.

For the final time.

[tarjapearce]

Unfit

Warning: Just fluffin' and mild angst.

Summary: Mama isn't feeling well. Comfort ensues.

A/N: Was under the seasonal blues and wrote this. ~ Hugs if you're not doing that good as well. ❤️

Rain had been waning through the day only to return full force on bed time. Sometimes you wished to have Rosie's or Benjamin's deep sleep. Even Gabriella's. But all you could muster was to sit on the bed's edge and let the heavy emotional toll that had crept like a crawler in your head, to hang. Just like your head and your slumping shoulders.

Be it the weather or your recurrent thoughts about the many things that had transpired in your life to sit before you, in half a circle. Ready to throw their worst at your mind. You felt like being the object of their judging and scrutinizing gaze.

Family, followed by fears, next to it anxiety, and in the last seat, insecurities. Their presence alone had made you grip the bed's edge with such force you could feel the sturdy springs.

A shaky breath gave a green flag to your tears, allowing them to slid down your flushed cheeks. The past few days had been rough on your head, if not the whole week. But motherhood had grope you by the neck so tightly and kept you as busy as ever, you had forgotten on how to process your emotions correctly.

Ironic as it was you were always encouraging your own children and even Miguel to do so. And sometimes, like right now, your emotional needs were too loud to be neglected any further.

The rain's tempo increased, letting a rumble tear through the sky and light it up with a lightning. Miguel entered the room, slipping into a red flannel, his favorite, but stopped in his tracks upon seeing you.

Wobbly shoulders, silent sobs and sniffs and the sheets crumpled underneath your fisted hands on the mattress.

"Mi amor?"

His voice forced to wipe the tears instantly, allowing the cushioned surface to breath for a moment, and still you were unable to face him. The bed dipped behind you under his weight, his hand reached for your defeated shoulders, maneuvering you with such care and gentleness that had you at the brink of breaking again.

It was only when you were embraced by him, smothered in his arms and chest that you broke. His muscles tensed for a second upon hearing you so distressed. Had he done something? No. It wasn't him. It was something more complex than that.

He shushed you while his hands ran through your hair, reassuring, comfortingly smooth. His lips kissed your forehead, making the silent affirmation of being there for you. His other hands rubbed small circles on your back, coaxing the calm that had hid behind your surfacing messy feelings.

"Wanna talk about it?"

His voice a soft murmur. You nodded.

A few more tears were shed before you tried to settle the shaky and brokenness in your own voice at bay. Your nose sniffled as your lip quivered.

"I... I feel overwhelmed. Afraid and tired."

His thumbs wiped away the fresh tears and looked at you, coaxing you to continue.

"I feel so unfit in so many levels it's ridiculous." You heaved, trying to ease the knot in your throat, "I feel like I'm not being a good mother, that... Im not a good person to be around sometimes, so unfit for you."

He frowned but listened. Bloodshot eyes turning glossy once more

"I know you love me to death but... sometimes my head play such dirty tricks on me is stupid how easy I let them win." Your lids dropped for a moment before let your eyes resume their stare on him.

"I feel so overwhelmed at little things, that shouldn't have that effect on me. Cause you're always there, reminding me  of how amazing I am, but my brain it's simply unable to grasp around it."

The lump in your throat engorged, making it difficult to breath.

" I feel unfit for being a mother cause it's hard. I love my babies to death, but I can't help but feel that I'm slacking at something and... and...-"

His arms squeezed you gently and held you closer, hiding for a second your trembling face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm so sorry to be just bawling over stupid thoughts and making you stay up later than usual."

"Mi reina." His tone was firm, yet soft, fingers reached for your chin making you to gaze at him once more, "You have nothing to apologize for."

He sighed and removed an unruly strand out of your face.

"I sometimes feel this exact way too. I feel a shitty husband, that I'm not properly taking my role as your friend, and so many other similar things. But"

He inhaled, making you mimick him.

"By the end of the day they are nothing but thoughts. I know it's hard to fight them. Hell, feel kinda hypocritical right now by saying this but-" He smooched you.

"You are not your thoughts, cariño."

His words were the balm your broken spirit craved. And it craved it badly.

"I can't help but feel like every day is a bad day. Gabi has grown so fast I'm... starting to dread her teenage phase."

"We all have bad days. Today is one of them too, nothing wrong in that. And she'll be good. We've raised her well."

Your head was shaken with a weak nod.

"As for being a bad mother, cómo es que dicen los jovenes?" (How do youngsters say it?)

His bushy eyebrows squinted as he tried to remember to then lit up at getting it, "You... Uh... You tripping?"

That earned him a little giggle from you, his eyes softened at the gesture.

"Dios mío, don't say that again." You couldn't hold back an ugly snort.

"No Cap. Just fax."

You cringed and giggled in between little hiccups.

"Fax? What are you even talking about?"

He spoke in between titters and silent laughs, but the idiocy of it all had made you laugh and curl up closer.

"You gotta slay my queen."

"Stop, oh my god"

"Pero ya, hablando en serio." (But hey, talking in all seriousness) He cleared his throat and cupped your cheeks.

"You're the best mom, wife, woman and best friend I could ever have. And I'm a blessed man to have you and my little spiders."

"Even if they are so..."

"Annoying at times? yeah. They are. No judgement here. Parenting is hard."

You nodded a bit too enthusiastically.

"Nothing wrong with admitting we get tired from time to time."

"I wished we could have vacations from it."

Your tears had been long dry, but your face remained on his chest.

"We will, once Rosie is a bit more grown. How about that?"

"I'd love to, yeah."

"Go to a girl's night with Jessica and MJ in the meantime. I'll handle the kids."

"Really?"

"Claro. Can't have my wife feeling shitty and do nothing about it."

Miguel kissed your forehead once more and squeezed you in his arms.

"You're always taking care of us that you often tend to forget about yourself."

"Learned that from you" You half chuckled and he swatted your head gently.

"No aprendas mañas." (Don't learn the bad things)

You giggled and he caressed your cheek gently. Eyes softening at you

"Feeling better?"

"Kinda. Gimme a kiss"

He did and smothered you closer.

"Anything else you wanna talk about?"

"Not really."

"Segura?" (You sure)

"Yeah"

"C'mere." He hooked his leg on yours, trapping your body underneath it and part of his torso. You didn't squeal like other times, rather relished in his warmth.

"Te amo, Miguel."

"También te amo."

[serverusslaype]

Shameless, pt. 11

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

guys im running out of gifs to use ffs

despite that, HELLO!! i am more than 100% certain that you adorable feral little cretins are going to love this chapter holy fk. like i'm actually so excited to see your reactions/comments LOLL

i apologise for the long, long wait, however i wanted to perfect this part, it was really important that i did, otherwise it would be a waste, and kind of cringe. i won't keep you any longer <3

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy this!! and again, thank you soooo much for all your replies and reblogs and likes they just make me smile all the time, i really cannot believe that people like this, i'm still flabbergasted.

warnings: 18+ further down, minors DNI after the big red *'s. i also put a sign to say where it ends if you're not comfortable reading such things!

if i was any good at coding i'd cover it up, you know how people do on discord, like that spoiler thing. but alas, i am but a technophobe.

(this song is very important during that certain scene so if you will, please listen to it as you read <;3)

onwards and upwards...

Severus stood beside Dumbledore, his hands hanging at his sides, fingers fidgeting thoughtfully at the seams of his his black slacks. Before he was able to speak a reply to the Headmaster, a voice he had hoped he'd never hear again pierced the blanketed silence in the Great Hall. For a moment, both his heart and stomach dropped as he turned his head toward the irritating voice, jaw clenching almost immediately.

"Y/N!" None other than Benjamin Bluewater had called out, his ridiculously well-groomed hair bouncing as he jogged towards you. Severus felt a burning blaze of rage prickle his skin as his eyes observed how Bluewater embraced your rigid form, clearly in shock at his sudden appearance. What the hell was he doing here?

"Ben-" Severus heard you gasp as Bluewater pulled away from you, his hands flying up to cradle your cheeks intimately. Something Severus had done less than an hour ago. The jealousy that was raging inside of Snape was lethal, and he was desperately fighting the urge to rip you from Bluewater's slimy grasp and tuck you within the safe haven of his arms.

Your fearful eyes met Snape's icy ones, setting a kaleidoscope of butterflies free in his stomach. He could tell you were quietly begging him for help, however, he refused to get involved. The last thing he wanted to do was seem suspicious and perhaps trigger an unnecessary reaction from Bluewater. Snape remembered how volatile the boy could be, he served enough detentions with him. In fact, that was one thing that Severus was worried about. He wasn't sure if you knew about his bad temper.

"Are you alright? I came at once when I heard about Black getting into Hogwarts." Bluewater said, his overly-concerned voice dripping with worry. Something didn't sit right with Severus as he watched the two of you. Why didn't Bluewater visit when you had been attacked by a dementor? How does that not warrant a visit but this does? A deep, frustrated sigh left Snape's nose as Ben's thumbs brushed against the apples of your cheeks. Your hands reluctantly rose to sit atop of his forearms, silently soothing his worries.

"Wha-what are you... how...?" You stuttered, cheeks ablaze. You had to take a moment to compose yourself, and it didn't help that Severus's fiery eyes were burning holes into you. Inhaling slowly, you spoke again. "What are you doing here? How did you even get in?"

"Well, it helps when you work at the Ministry of Magic," Bluewater shrugged, a proud, smug smirk teasing his lips. His hands fell from your cheeks and settled on your waist, squeezing you a tad. You tensed up again as you glanced at Severus, your heart going a million miles an hour. Bluewater frowned as he followed your eyes, a flash of surprise crossing his features as he finally noticed the two of you weren't alone. "Erm... Headmaster, Professor... Snape." He greeted awkwardly, offering a nod. Snape wasn't keen on acknowledging him, however, Dumbledore kept it polite, smiling at the boy.

"A lovely surprise, Mr Bluewater." Dumbledore said. It had sounded sarcastic, but that was unintentional.

Severus stared at Bluewater with cold eyes, his gaze slowly falling to where his hands sat comfortably on your waist, taunting him. His mouth twitched bitterly. "How you've grown, Mr Bluewater," Snape commented slyly, his sharp eyes flicking back up to meet Bluewater's. "It feels like only yesterday you were causing chaos here at Hogwarts. More specifically in my classroom." He drawled, eyes narrowing in contempt.

An incredulous huff slipped from Bluewater's nose and a sarcastic grin broke out on his face; his grip on your waist tightening. The jealous fire in Severus exploded. Clearly, there was unresolved conflict between these two.

"I see you've remained the same, Snape." He quipped sharply, tongue like a sword. Severus turned his back to you and Bluewater, his shoulders stiffening as he muttered something to Dumbledore.

There was an awkward silence that fell upon the four of you.

You turned to Ben, keeping your voice low. "Look, I think it's best if you leave." You muttered, an uncomfortable expression slipping onto your face. You nibbled on your bottom lip.

"I'm not leaving until I know where Black is, I need to keep you safe." Ben laughed dryly, his eyes narrowing at you in disbelief. Oh no, no-no-no. He had to leave, there was no way he could stay.

"I'm perfectly safe here," you attempted to reassure him, "I'm surrounded by some of the most talented witches and wizards to ever exist, Ben." An incredulous chuckle fell from your lips as you spoke, a little surprised that he deemed Hogwarts unsafe. How could it be unsafe when Dumbledore was here? Despite that, you couldn't risk him noticing the tension between you and Snape, it wouldn't look good on either of you.

He looked at you with a stiff expression, his gaze flicking to where Snape and Dumbledore stood, eyes hardening as he stared. You glanced away awkwardly.

"I'll stay here until I deem it so, Y/N." Ben said rather sternly, making your brows shoot up in shock. Since when was he like this? This was not the Ben you knew.

"Sorry?" You choked.

"The Ministry gets the final say, irregardless of what you or Hogwarts thinks." Ben tilted his head at you as he stared down at you. "I'm staying." His serious tone of voice made you back down and nod, your lips pursed. There was nothing you could say or do to change his mind.

Shit.

Shit, indeed.

Two knocks sounded at Snape's door, and he audibly sighed, a little vexed that someone had chosen to come and bother him when he'd just settled down - his raging jealousy had finally subdided after two hours of brooding in his office.

"Come in." Snape grunted from his desk, piles of parchment and books surrounding him messily. Usually he was neat, organised - but tonight was rather exasperating. He just about managed to watch another man with his hands all over you.

"Severus," Minerva McGonagall's voice made Snape's head snap up, a startled look adopting his features. He definitely was not expecting the Head of Gryffindor House to be knocking at his door. "I'm sorry to impede, however, I wanted to chat with you. Regarding Y/N." She sighed, her wrinkled lips pouting. His body suddenly felt heavier.

"What about Professor L/N?" Severus asked curtly, looking back down at the pile of assignments in front of him like he had no interest in the subject.

"I wasn't born yesterday, Severus," Minerva said, a stern look taking hold of her face. Snape's jaw ticked, his fingers stiffening in irritation. He sighed and glanced back up at the older witch, waiting for her to continue her lecture. "You need to be careful. She's just a girl." She said softly and stepped forwards a tad, linking her fingers together in front. Why was he getting lectured when he's been the one trying to push you away? Well, he was. Now, all he wanted to do was pull you close to him.

"This is no concern of yours,  Minerva." Severus's brows furrowed harshly, his voice clipped and cold. Minerva's eyes narrowed; his tone rubbing her the wrong way.

"It concerns me when it starts to affect my colleagues." Minerva retorted, her patience wearing thin. She knew this was going to be a hard conversation, especially with someone like Severus. "I just want you to consider things before you cross that line, Severus. This isn't... wise."

It isn't wise? Well, who would've thought that? Not me, apparently, Severus growled in his mind, sighing heavily through his nostrils as he stared at Minerva.

"You think I don't know that?" Severus groaned, shutting his eyes as he reached up to massage his temples. He felt a headache coming on; all this stress wasn't good for him.

There was several seconds of quiet before Minerva spoke again, voice soft. "Do you care for her?"

He kept silent once again.

Minerva felt for Severus, she knew what it was like to care for someone and to have to push them away. In fact, it felt horribly and hauntingly familiar. This was like a walk down memory lane for her. Her head tilted slightly, her eyes softening as she stared at the Potions Master who had his eyes glued to his desk, palms splayed out atop of it as he intensely read through an essay. "I do not want your pity, Minerva," Severus hissed, his head snapping up, a face full of anger, "I have walked down this road before, and I know how it ends. So please, save your sorry for someone else."

Minerva was so used to Snape's flick-of-a-switch emotions that she hardly flinched at his sudden outburst. "Alright." A soft sigh left her as she glanced away from him, her fingers flexing. There was nothing left to say, she knew that Severus knew the risks with you. And you knew the risks with him. For now, she could only let things play out, she wasn't going to play God. If the two of you wanted to do it, who was she to stop it?

"I have a lot of work to complete." Severus grunted, his shoulders hunching up as he sat closer to his desk, burying his nose further into the parchment. Minerva exhaled softly through her nostrils and her lips pouted together again. She blinked, turning around to leave.

As her fingers grasped the rickety door handle, she looked over her shoulder at Snape. "Should you and Y/N choose to take such a risk, Severus," she began, earning another exhausted sigh from him, "don't break her heart. She doesn't deserve to go through that pain. Not at such a young age."

Severus's eyes faltered a tad as he glazed over the messy handwriting laced upon the parchment sat in front of him, as if it were goading him. His breath hitched slightly at her words. Minerva had a point. A very, irritatingly valid point. Severus cared for you - a lot. However, now he found himself questioning whether it was enough - whether he was enough for you. He couldn't pour his whole self into a relationship with you if it wasn't that - his whole self. Were you better off with Bluewater? He could probably treat you better than Severus ever could. Bluewater was young, handsome, somewhat smart... he also had a very good job at the Ministry... Severus was but a teacher, and he was old. Why would you ever settle for someone like him when a boy like Bluewater existed?

The click of his door told him that Minerva had left. Severus buried his face in his hands, his heart twisting and knotting itself as it yearned for you.

Rolling over in your bed, your unwearied eyes skimmed your darkened room, landing on the clock that was hung on the wall. Almost eleven o'clock at night. Ben stirred beside you, the bed creaking and groaning as he shuffled to right, away from you, burying his cheek in the pillow. You glanced at him and sighed, your mind wandering to the thought of Severus. You wondered what he was doing right now. Was he awake or asleep? No, he was definitely awake, that man never slept.

Severus.

Gods, you adored that man. You weren't exactly sure what it was that drew you to him, but perhaps it was just his aura; it was so dark, mysterious. The way the two of you bantered so easily, the conversation flowed like a river and it felt natural, whereas, with Ben... it was... well, it just felt artificial - forced, almost. It wasn't a secret that the chemistry and tension between you and Severus was incredibly palpable - even Minerva had noticed, and suddenly that made you panic - what if Ben notices? Other teachers? The students had even noticed last year when Severus had helped you up the steps when duelling Lockhart. He won't notice, will he? No, he won't be here long enough to.

Hopefully.

You rolled over in your bed again and noticed that Ben had turned back towards you, so the two of you were face to face now. You tucked your hands up and underneath your chin, allowing yourself to stare at his features in the dark. As you laid there, staring, breathing soft and slow, your heart skipped a beat as he shifted slightly; the shadow that was cast against his face suddenly transforming him intosomeone else. Suddenly, he'd grown long, obisidian black hair that framed his face perfectly, his basic nose had become hooked and prominent, his cheekbones turned more defined.

You sucked in a sharp, yet soft breath - careful to keep quiet so you didn't wake Ben - your skin prickling with goosebumps. Was this how hung up you were on Severus? So much so that if you stared too long at someone, they'd turn into him?

Your hand slowly rose to drag itself against your face. Glancing at the clock again, you knew you weren't falling asleep any time soon. You'd been laid there for at least two or so hours, tossing and turning, begging for your brain to shut off so you could perhaps get some sort of shut-eye. So, you chose to get out of bed. Flipping open the duvet, the biting cold of your room enveloped you; a chill shooting down your figure. You shivered slightly as you sat up and twisted yourself on your bum so your legs hung down over the side of the bed. It creaked slightly as you leant forwards to put your slippers on, prompting you to quickly glance behind you to check if it woke Ben - thankfully, it didn't. With a quick exhale of relief, you spun stepped out of bed and padded quietly over to your sofa where your favourite comfy, deep green cardigan was resting over the arm of it.

You picked it up and slipped it on, wrapping the warm, soft and cosy garment around yourself. Headed towards your door, you threw once last look at Ben and clicked open your door, shutting it calmly, making your way down to the one place you only wanted to go at this time of night.

The mossy, damp smell of the dungeons invaded your nostrils angrily, almost making you cough. You forgot how bad the smell could get down here during the autumn and winter months. The cool chill seeped through your wool cardigan, making you pull it tighter against your frame, hurriedly trying to keep every bit of warmth around you before it escaped.

As you neared that certain door, you lingered by it, raising your knuckles hesitantly.

With a stern sigh, you knocked, and awaited his usual grunt of acknowledgement.

"Come in." Came an annoyed tone from the inside just as you expected. You bit the inside of your cheek as you creaked open the door and slipped inside.

"Erm, hi," You squeaked out, closing the door shut behind you and pressing your back against it, staring awkwardly at Severus, who was still sat behind his desk, head down. "What are you doing up so late?" The sound of your voice made him look up, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I could ask you the same thing, Miss L/N," Severus mused. You couldn't help but smile coyly at him, padding forwards to move closer, your skin tingling with anticipation. "So, what brings you here?" Severus asked, his voice curious, yet there was also a hint of coldness to it. You assumed it was because he was tired - or at least hoped it was that.

"I couldn't sleep." You hummed, folding your arms against your body, the silk skirt of your yellow nightdress shimmering in the low, amber light. Severus found himself glimpsing down at your garment; the sheen of the smooth, rich fabric catching his attention. Your cheeks suddenly simmered from the way his eyes glazed over you.

He looked back up at you. "So, you chose to bother me instead?" Severus quirked a brow.

"Precisely." You smiled bashfully, a quiet laugh slipping from your mouth as you rocked back and forth on your heels, your eyes leaving his to glance nervously around his gloomy classroom.

"How lucky I am." He said sarcastically, leaning back in his chair. Your smile stayed on your face as you rolled your eyes, stomach flipping at his voice.

"It feels weird that almost a year ago, we were in here, brewing that Mandrake potion together." You commented as your eyes fell on the exact desk the two of you had stood at.

Severus's eyes followed yours. "Indeed," he spoke, gazing back at you as you were distracted, taking a moment to admire you. His heart skipped a beat as the corners of your lips quirked upwards into another sheepish smile. Though, he soon felt indifferent to it as the thought of Bluewater slipped into his mind. "That was also the time we spoke about... your friend." Severus added, tutting at the end as if he had to force himself to spit that word out.

"Oh, right, yeah," you said awkwardly, clearing your throat, "you two still seem to absolutely despise each other." You looked at Severus, a rush of butterflies surging through you as you found his inquisitive eyes already glued to you.

Severus only grunted in response, clearly unwilling to talk about Ben. His body stiffened and his eyes had hardened. "Who would have thought that he'd come back to haunt me later on." He huffed, voice soaked in sarcasm. You had to force yourself to keep a straight face, unsure of how he'd react if a smile broke out on your face. You didn't exactly want to get into an argument right now. "I was foolish to think that he'd had enough causing me grief every single period that we shared."

"He was just a boy back then." An amused hum left your lips, though Severus didn't share the same outlook. His face had become stony again, unfeeling.

"He is still a boy now." Severus spat, like the idea of Ben was poison in his mouth. "He's young, barely twenty-three. He has a lot to learn."

"Am I just a girl to you, then?" You tilted your head at Severus, a tiny smile picking at the corner of your lips. You were twenty-two, almost twenty-three - a whole lot younger than Severus.

He stayed silent for a moment, staring at you, studying your gleeful little face. You suddenly felt a little vulnerable and so you averted your eyes to the ground, your face hot and embarrassed.

"Far from it." He sighed, eyes still glued on you. No, you were so much more to him than you could imagine. He couldn't tell you that though. Not when you had a chance at true happiness with someone that suited you better than an old, ugly git such as himself. "You're a grown woman, you've proven that." His reply had you shocked. You were not expecting such a response, in fact, you were actually expecting a dig, or even a petty insult. Your stomach felt a little heavier as you frowned at him, your eyes gently and slowly dissecting his worn features.

"Oh?" Your voice slipped up an octave as you were caught a little off-guard. "What, err, makes you say that?"

"I don't think I need to explain my reasoning. You're an intelligent woman, no need to spoon-feed you." Severus said simply with a slow blink, his glittering black eyes staring into yours, prompting your cheeks to burn even hotter. You forgot how beautifully hypnotising those two pools of inky-black were as you stared into them, almost losing yourself again.

"It feels weird to hear you compliment me." A gentle laugh left your lips. Severus's own lips tugged upwards slightly, the smallest hint of a smile appearing on his usually-cold face. A comfortable, yet partially awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. You stepped forwards once more, shuffling closer to Severus's desk, almost a foot away from him now. You looked down at the piles of assignments in front of him, curious. "May I?" You asked quietly, gesturing to them. He nodded.

You picked one up and began to read.

'Amortentia is the strongest known love potion in the world. Amor is a Latin word meaning ''Love'', it is also the name of the Roman goddess of love. ''Tentia'' is the Latin for ''held''. It makes the drinker become infatuated and obsessed.'

"I remember this," you smiled, eyes still glued to the parchment, "fourth years, correct?" You looked back to Severus, who was currently staring at you with such soft eyes that you almost melted right on the spot. You had to clear your throat to attempt to compose yourself, though it was truly in vain. It hadn't helped.

"Correct." He muttered, still staring at you, inducing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Your breath hitched slightly as you gripped the parchment tighter, never breaking contact with his eyes. A sharp pain suddenly shot through your finger.

"Ouch," You gasped, the essay falling to the ground as you let go of it, rushing to grab your injured finger. Severus's brows furrowed at you.

"Are you alright?" He cast a glimpse at your finger that you were now squeezing tight, a tiny spot of blood beginning to dribble down it.

"Mhm, just a cut, I think I accidentally cut myself on something that was stuck to the paper." You laughed awkwardly, a little embarrassed as you flipped it over to see a shard of glass stuck to it in a sticky substance. You placed the parchment back onto his desk and looked down at your finger. A scarlet liquid was beginning to ooze out, and fast. You exhaled, feeling a little woozy. Blood was never your strong suit - as a matter of fact, you hated it. The sight of it always made you feel so lightheaded.

Severus noticed your unusual behaviour and quickly rose from his seat, rushing to your side. "Let me," He sighed softly, his hands taking ahold of yours, an electric jolt shooting through you. Your breath hitched once more as you glanced up at him, your wide, doe-like eyes meeting his sparkling obsidian ones. Severus felt like he couldn't breathe for a moment. He was trapped in your eyes, the buzz filling his body up like a drug. You drew him in so easily, and it didn't help that you were excruiatingly even more beautiful up close. The moonlight did you no justice in that greenhouse.

Forcing himself to tear his eyes from yours, he reluctantly looked back down to your injured finger, retrieving his wand from his sleeve. The moment he'd taken your hand in his, his mind went insane. There was no other feeling like it. Merlin, he wished he could experience that moment all over again.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, voice quiet, aiming the tip of his wand over the cut. You hadn't looked away from him once.

"No." You whispered. Severus's head shot up, his worried eyes meeting yours instantly. A warmth spread throughout his body, engulfing him. The two of you were so close, sheer milimetres apart. So close that if one of you leaned forwards even the tiniest amount, the tips of your noses could touch. He needed to stop getting himself into these situations with you, he wasn't going to get over you if you kept ending up inches apart.

His hot breath was on familiar territory again, tickling your pink cheeks, caressing your jaw. Like you were pulled forwards, you found yourself gradually leaning toward him with parted lips, testing the water as you brushed the tip of your nose against his larger one; soft eyes flicking between his lips and his two pools of black. You hesitated, waiting for Severus to respond, your heart thundering against your ribs like a starved lion locked within a cage.

His wand-holding hand faltered slightly, the tip tickling your palm as it grazed your skin; your creeping presence sending his own heart racing. A soft gasp left you as it touched your hand. Severus's mind was fighting desperately for him to pull away, to save you and him the heartache. Perhaps months ago, he'd listen. However, having you so close to him, so vulnerable and soft-looking, he couldn't help himself. Against the wishes of his mind, he tipped his head forwards with half-lidded eyes, nudging the side of your nose with his. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to pull away, to push you away to spare his heart. He knew he wouldn't be able to deal with the aftermath if you suddenly decided one day that he wasn't enough for you anymore. However, he decided that you were entirely worth the risk in this current moment.

You swallowed and allowed a hand to slip up onto his chest, your fingers splaying out slightly across the broad area. With a slow, controlled inhale, your eyes fluttered open to look up at his through your lashes. His tongue poked out sheepishly, wetting his lips as the two of you stared at one another, waiting for the other to make the first move.

He shuffled forwards once more, your lids fluttering shut as Severus pressed a soft and slow kiss against your lips. It was gentle, sweet and reserved. Tender, tickling you like butterfly wings. A warmth bloomed in your chest and your body leaned in instinctively towards his, silently begging him for more. As Severus pulled away, your eyes were still shut.

"Kiss me again," you whispered, "please."

The last word was all the encouragement he needed from you.

Severus leaned in once more, pressing another gentle kiss against your lips, another buzz of electrifying warmth sweeping through the two of you. It suddenly felt as if the world had stopped turning, like you'd been shot into another dimension as Severus held you close, his cool skin a great contrast against your burning skin. Your shallow breaths hitched once more as he sheathed his wand back up his sleeve, a hand coming to rest tenderly against your cheek; cradling your face like it was the most precious thing in the world as he kissed you. A part of you was melting at how gentle and soft he was being with you, and the other, wilder part was begging him to deepen the kiss; to just take control of you and show you how much you truly meant to him.

Your cardigan had slipped off of your shoulder as you leaned into his tender touch, exposing your skin to the chilly, damp air of his classroom sending a shivering chill through your body. Your other hand quickly snaked up his strong chest to meet your opposing one. After a moment, they found themselves nestled around his neck, a speck of blood staining his white collar from your finger as you grazed past it. Severus's other hand swiftly made its way to your waist and pulled you close, his body desperate to become drunk in your warmth once more. A soft moan bubbled in your throat as Severus peppered gentle kisses against you, pleading him to go further.

Almost immediately, he caved at the sound of you, his fingers digging into your clothed-flesh, any feeling of guilt fleeing from your body. Gods, you were so wrong, Ben was nothing compared to Severus. Ben never made you feel an ounce of the way that he did - you couldn't remember a time where Ben had touched your body the way he did, nor a time where Ben had kissed your lips as he did.

The two of you had become lost within each other as you made out sloppily in his classroom, his hands gripping you so deeply that the worries of Severus leaving bruises upon your supple skin had vanished from your mind. In fact, deep down, you were hoping he did. The way his hands held your body was heavenly, other-worldly.

You were a little embarrassed at how easily you folded with this man.

Severus's current state of mind was the total opposite of yours. In his head, all he heard was the constant chant of something telling him to stop. He pushed past it, drowning the voices out with harsher kisses, forcefully grabbing you tighter, pulling another moan from your lips. His conversation with Minerva from earlier began to rear its head within his own, torturing him. His stomach twisted awfully, and suddenly there was a bad taste in his mouth.

What the hell was he doing? You were seeing someone.

You were seeing someone.

Is this how pathetic and utterly sad he was? That he immediately latched onto you because he finally felt appreciated, wanted? For once, he didn't feel like a burden to the world. He felt validated, desired, perhaps even loved - everything he had ever wanted when he was younger. Your soft touches sent him spiralling, and he couldn't escape this maze of uncertainty. Did you truly feel something for him or was this some sort of sick, twisted fantasy you had? Were you just taking advantage of him? Was he so easy to be manipulated? He hoped not, he'd worked incredibly hard to get ahold of his emotions; imprisoning them. And you were breaking those thick walls down like dominoes.

"Severus, you're hurting me," Your voice suddenly whined, tearing him from his thoughts as your fingers touched his shaking hand that was gripping your hipbone like a merciless vice. Almost immediately, he released you from his grasp and stepped away, turning his back to you ashamedly. Several seconds of silence passed through the pair of you, your fingers lingering on the sore area, gently rubbing it in an attempt to soothe the ache. "Are you okay?" You kept your voice quiet and soft, careful not to startle him. He clearly wasn't in a good state of mind.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his head drooping, "I shouldn't have kissed you." Severus slowly turned around, his body parallel to yours, a solemn look upon his features. "It was wrong of me, and I was selfish." Severus added, his lips molding into that familiar, emotionless flat line as he stared at you. You frowned and reached your hand out to him, however, he shied away from it. Your chest tightened as you quickly pulled your hand back, hurt by his rejection. All this emotional warfare was wearing you down.

He's running away again, you thought, a shock of fear bolting through you.

"Why are you sorry?" Your brows furrowed deeply as you wrapped your arms around your body, the chill of the dungeon devouring you once more. You instantly missed his warmth against you.

"You're with Bluewater, are you not?" Severus's eyes hardened as he spoke that wretched name. Suddenly, your throat felt incredibly tight. Shit, Ben- he'd totally slipped your mind the moment Severus had kissed you. You'd undoubtedly made a bad habit of forgetting him when in the presence of Severus...

"Erm, yes." You said quietly. The tone of your voice had him confused. You sounded regretful.

Severus stood straighter as his hands slinked away behind his back. You shrunk underneath his towering height.

The next thing you wanted to say could ruin it all. You had no idea whether Severus felt the same. Did he feel something for you, or was it just lust for him? Perhaps some sort of fantasy of fooling around with a younger professor? Everything you'd built could come crashing down like a burning plane within seconds. Your hands suddenly felt clammy as you fought to find the right words, your mouth quivering.

"I..." you breathed out as your eyes fell to the ground for a moment, staring hard. "He's not you." You glanced back up at Severus, his scrutinising eyes sending your lungs into a breathless spasm. You felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for his reply.

"Don't be a fool, Y/N." Severus's voice was cold. It made your stomach drop. Was this his way of rejecting your affections?

"I'm serious." You chewed on the inside of your cheek, eyes studying his unwavering stony face.

"You can do far better than me. I will only hurt you, Y/N," he spoke, his voice deep and languid, "I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible, I will make it impossible to live a life without pain and regret. People do not linger around me for certain reasons."

"Yet I'm still here." You huffed quietly, your fingers squeezing your arms out of frustration.

"For now." Severus mused sarcastically, wallowing in his self-hatred. It hurt you to see his true opinion of himself, and it made your mind race with reasons as to why he despised himself so much.

"Why can't you see yourself the way I do?" You sighed softly, almost defeatedly, gazing at the man in front of you. Severus hated how your eyes were laden with sorrow.

"You look at the world with rose-coloured glasses. I do not." He replied. Those deep, black eyes had suddenly lost the flicker in them, and it pained you. He began to move, sweeping back to his desk, taking a seat behind it - still disorderly and untidy.

You were quiet, quite obviously hurt. Severus's jaw clenched, an ache spreading across his chest as a deep sigh fell through his nostrils. 

"Why do you always shut me out, Severus?" A shaky exhale left you as your eyes burned. The emotional rollercoaster that this man was sending you on was truly heartwrenching.

He was silent in response to your question, eyes stuck to his messy desk, an indelicate representation of his current state of mind.

"Severus, answer me," you demanded, attempting to sound as stern as possible, though it was a pathetic failure as your voice broke; breathy sobs fighting to escape your throat. "Why are you so scared of this?"

"I will only hurt you, Y/N." He said, too afraid to look at you. Severus couldn't bear to see you so upset, especially because of him.

"You don't know that." You replied, voice soft.

"And you do?" Severus's head snapped up at you, frustrated, his eyes cold and ruthless; back to their usual appearance. A quiet gasp shot out of your quivering mouth. "Bluewater is better for you." He admitted. How could he say that when he'd said you'd deserved better than him?

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" You cried out, the building frustration within you finally crumbling and spilling out through your tears. Severus looked away from you, physically unable to watch you cry. Gods, he wanted to rush to you and hold you, tell you that everything was going to be alright, but he couldn't. He had no idea if things were going to be okay. And they definitely wouldn't be if he had the honour of callilng you his. "Y/N-" His eyes were still avoiding you, too ashamed to even look at you.

"No, Severus, what gives... what gives you the right to kiss me, to pull me so close to you and then suddenly shove me away like I'm nothing but a piece of dirt on your shoe?" You rambled, your hands flying outwards frantically as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. It was embarrassing how unravelled you'd become, but you couldn't stop yourself. He'd finally broken you. "You can't keep doing this to me, I can't- it's..." Your lungs and throat burned. You'd exhausted yourself. "To kiss you? Did you not initiate it?" He scowled at you. "You were the one pushing your face into mine!"

"Okay, sure, I admit to that- but you didn't have to kiss me! You could have walked away!" You cried, walking up to his desk and pointing a finger at his face. Immediately, his lip curled upwards, his features twisting into a disdainful scowl.

"Is that not what you wanted?! For me to kiss you?!" Severus bellowed, rising from his desk chair, his hands slamming down onto the desk furiously. This time you didn't flinch, too distracted by the flaming hot anger searing through your veins.

"Did you?!" You exclaimed back at him, leaning forwards over his desk. One more time, the two of you were impossibly close - so close that you were sure you could feel the angry heat radiating from each other's bodies.

The room was suddenly dead silent, and yet, the only things the two of you could hear were the ragged, desperate breaths that seeping out of your heaving chests.

"Go to hell, Snape." You whispered with a red face. You felt humiliated, angry, upset- actually, you were certain every single emotion was surging through you right now; the way your body was trembling uncontrollably made you sure of it.

Severus's lack of an answer more than enough for you. With a frustrated, teary-eyed huff, you spun around, storming straight for his door.

Jesus, how could you have fallen for such a cruel man? Were you so blind? He had an abysmal reputation for a reason, yet you still selfishly thought that you could change him, that you could fix him and make him a better person. And you were wrong, Gods, were you so. Fucking. Wrong. 

You were only three steps away, when a strong hand suddenly gripped your arm, spinning you around with force. You whirled around, taken by surprise as Severus crashed his lips against yours, his touch-hungry hands rushing carelessly to grasp at your waist, drawing your body into his. He was like a devouring flame, hungry and starving for its fuel of life. You gasped against his lips, your body soon falling victim to his alluring aura, melting shamelessly into him. Your mind clouded with lust and desire as your hands swiftly settled around his neck once again, desperately tugging him as close to you as possible as a few stray tears fell from your closed eyes, wetting both of your cheeks. You were unabashedly needy for his touch - for his lips, for his whole self in general - your body and heart was begging for him, and Severus noticed.

*

Severus pushed you backwards towards the very desk that the two of you had brewed the Mandrake potion a year ago, his hands slipping underneath your thighs to lift you up effortlessly. Your bum grazed against the surface as he placed you down, a rogue piece of wood tearing the hem of your nightdress slightly. You spread your legs, inviting him in, his hips pressed against the edge of the desk as he kissed you hungrily. Severus's hands slipped up from your thighs and felt their way up to your waist again, squeezing you tenderly, shooting a delicious shiver up your spine. He pulled a delicate moan from your lips as he let one of his hands snake up to your neck, his thumb grazing against the side of your breast on its travels. A groan bubbled in his throat at the sultry noise, a thrilling jolt trembling through him as his hand gently grasped the back of your neck, his cold fingers tickling the nape of it.

You mindlessly wrapped your legs around his hips, tugging him closer with each lingering kiss like he could be ripped away from you any second. Severus's hips rutted against yours and you gasped, prompting an animalistic groan from his mouth. 

Your hands fell from his neck, sliding agonisingly slow down his torso and halting themselves at his hips, toying with the buckle and buttons of his trousers. Instantaneously, with his wet and swollen lips still glued to yours, his hand abandoned your waist to help you with his clothing, unbuckling them one-handedly. You were impressed to say the least.

As you fumbled with his zipper, Severus returned his hands to your body. His slender and skilled fingers found your cardigan and slipped it off of your shoulders and arms, discarding it to the ground. You whined slightly at the sudden bitter air, though it was soon silenced as Severus delved his wet tongue wildly into your mouth, licking and caressing it against your own. You moaned as he moved his mouth down to your jaw, nipping at it sweetly, his tongue leaving a hot trail as he made his way down toward your neck; his fingers having a mind of their own as they flew to your shoulders, tugging at the straps of your nightdress. Another breathless moan tumbled freely from your mouth as Severus sucked sweetly on your neck, pushing you backwards onto the surface of the table. You let yourself be guided by him as you laid back on the desk, arching yourself as your hands flew from his hips to the back of his neck, diving your fingers into his thick, mop of black hair, urging him to continue.

Your lids are lazy and heavy as you let him ravage your neck with sinful lips. "Severus," You whispered, breathless, sending a shockwave through him. "Need you-" A lewd whine left you as your body rocked hungrily against his.

"Patience," He whispered back against your hot skin, panting. You whined once more, evidently unhappy with his response. Severus chuckled, pulling away from your slender neck, your hands sliding down from the mess of his hair to his clothed biceps. He leaned down toward your face once more, a pool of warmth flourishing in his torso as he gazed down at you. He lifted a large hand and placed it tenderly against your cheek, his thumb brushing against the pinkened apples of your cheeks. Instinctively, you leaned into his sweet touch, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red, inducing a rare smile upon Severus's lips. You allowed your fingers to shift from his tensed arms to the hem of his cloak on his chest.

"What?" You asked quietly, a coy smile gracing your full, swollen lips as you beckoned him closer with a tug at his cloak that lingered between the pads of your fingers.

"Nothing." He rumbled in his deep voice, still staring at you. You sucked in a cheek and bit down on the inside of it, the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability eating you up. His thumb brushed against your cheek again, sending a shiver throughout your body.

"Then kiss me again, will you?" You laughed softly, slightly embarrassed at the dishevelled state you were currently in. You gave another tug at his cloak again. Severus's lips quirked upwards again at your demand, caving at your sweet voice. He leant down slowly, large nose brushing against yours in an intimate fashion as he pressed a soft, chaste kiss against your reddened lips.

In this tender and soft moment that you shared with Severus, all you wanted to do was remain here forever. Seeing him act so warm and soft with you felt like a fever dream. From the callous way he spoke to you in the first year, you never expected a man like him to have such a gentle and delicate side. It was momentous - he'd finally succumbed to you, allowing you into his world; a side of him you never thought you'd ever see. And you were eternally grateful for it.

You felt yourself becoming lost in his addicting touch again as his hands travelled down your body, gently caressing your flaming hot skin. They reached your thighs, squeezing them, and your back arched into him; the fire from before burning hotter.

Kissing you, Severus trailed the tips of his fingers down your legs, toying with the hem of your nightdress, slowly and teasingly guiding it up towards your thighs. The sensation sent a chill down your spine as the crisp air nipped at your bare legs, excited goosebumps erupting all over you. With a delicious, muffled hum, he hooked a finger underneath the string of your underwear, pulling at it.

"You want this?" He muttered against your lips, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment.

"Yes," you panted, "please, yes."

At the sound of your pleas, Severus slipped your lacy panties off of you, discarding them on the ground with your cardigan. Instantly, he grazed his hand up the inner side of your calf, and up your thigh, coming to a teasingly close stop at where you needed him most. You whined, rocking your hips into him, begging, pleading him to touch you. A throaty growl rumbled out of him, and he mashed his lips harsher against yours, diving his tongue into your wet mouth, engaging in a heated quarrel with your own. You gasped as his hand finally settled on your burning core, a single cool finger delving itself between your wet folds, circling around your sensitive bud.

A strangled moan left your mouth as he added another finger, tracing the outline of you agonisingly slow, a coil tightening within the confines of your belly. You were panting helplessly now as he teased you, losing all control as Severus slipped his fingers inside of you, extracting a high-pitched whine from your throat. You grit your teeth as he curled them inside of you, clutching at any last bit of strength within you to stop yourself from screaming out. Your body was trembling now, hopelessly, as Severus had you wrapped around his fingers quite literally.

You exhaled, "Severus," with a whiny moan, he pulled away from your mouth and removed his fingers from you and brought them up to your lips. Without hesitation, you parted them, prompting Severus to dip them into your mouth, your tongue curling around them sinfully. A groan bubbled in the back of his throat as you tightened your legs around his hips, begging for him to continue.

A smug smirk picked at the corners of his lips as he stared at you. Your lips were wrapped around his two fingers, saliva dripping messily from them, your eyes blown and dark, hungry for more of him.

"Such a good girl," Severus uttered, tilting his chin upwards. You almost combusted right then and there. "You always were." He hummed. Instantly, your hands flew to his trousers, tugging at them with wild determination. You couldn't wait any longer, you needed him now.

He pulled his fingers out of your pretty mouth and helped you, lowering his trousers; the growing tent in his boxers driving you insane. Your fingers hook at the hem of them as his own did with your panties, pulling them down urgently. A fierce flicker of lust and desire flashed in your eyes as his cock bounced free, your legs tugging him closer to you once more, a whimper leaving your lips in an attempt to persuade him to finally take you.

"Sev, please," The way you shortened his name in your soft, enticing and whiny voice almost sent him tumbling over the edge. He drew a sharp breath as he placed a hand against your cheek, and his other underneath your nightdress upon your waist, his fingers finally touching and squeezing your naked flesh. He groaned as you rutted your hips against him again. Without a delay, he slipped himself inside of you, the pair of you moaning together at the intense flash of pleasure washing over you like a tsunami.

Severus's mind was jaded as he fucked you, his mouth parting and lips quivering as he allowed himself to become lost in the ripples of unwavering bliss that rattled through his body. Your hands snaked up to his face and cradled it sweetly, pulling him back down to meet your lips again. The kisses were short and sweet, nothing like the hungry and harsh ones before.

Your head fell back slightly, your bottom lip caught between his teeth as Severus's full length sheathed itself inside of your warm, hot core; the delicious slapping of yours and his flesh echoing in his classroom. All those years ago, studying in here, never did you think that you'd find yourself right here in this sensual moment.

Severus's hand that was sat on your waist slipped downwards and settled itself on your hip, fingers digging harshly into your skin as he felt himself teetering closer to the edge. His breaths were becoming ragged, laboured and heavy, and so he brought his other hand down to your womanhood, slipping his fingers between your folds once more to thumb your clit. As he circled it skillfully, your body quaked with every rub, strings of moans and gasps falling freely and shamelessly from your busied mouth. The coil within you tightened, and your fingers sunk themselves into his mop of black hair once more, gripping it with force as your body shook uncontrollably.

Severus's thrusts became sloppy and uncalculated as he pulled his face back from you, watching as you came undone beneath him; your face twisting in a dangerously beautiful manner as the coil snapped. He moved his hands from you and placed them beside your hips as your walls clenched frantically around him, and Severus himself was sent tumbling over the edge, a broken and throaty animalistic moan slipping out of his mouth as his body gave out, collapsing over you. Catching himself with his hands, he transferred his weight to his elbows and forearms, leaning up slightly to gaze at you. His black eyes twinkled beautifully in the amber glow of his classroom, a flush of warmth blossoming over your spent, sweaty body. A gentle giggle came from you, and he found himself smiling. Usually, it felt odd for such an expression to take hold of his features, however, with you, it felt natural. Like it was meant to be there.

*

(end of 18+)

He allowed himself a moment to recuperate as your fingers softened their grasp in his hair, gradually glazing to his cup his red cheeks, thumbs brushing sweetly against his burning skin. He pulled himself out of you and pulled up his trousers, buckling them up. He pulled your nightdress back down over your legs, his hand lingering over your thigh.

"Don't you look happy with yourself," you giggled again, and Severus hushed you with a gentle kiss on your lips. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"What do you mean?" He frowned softly, thumb brushing against the silk material that covered your thigh. A warmth pooled in your belly at his touch.

"You're smiling, and it's not forced... or sarcastic." You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip playfully.

"I can't help myself," Severus muttered, his face mere centimetres away from yours, "You just seem to pull them out of me." The warmth within your burned a little hotter.

"Don't stroke my ego, you'll regret it, Sev." You joked, a toothy grin replacing the sweet smile. He chuckled at you.

"I hate to bring this up, however, it's niggling at my mind," Severus suddenly sighed, the tiny flicker of a smile that was on his face disappearing. "What about Bluewater now?"

You scrunched your nose up at the sound of his name, the guilt that once vanished making a very hasty return to your body, sinking into your aching shoulders. "Um," you winced, "I don't know. I can't exactly... end things with him whilst he's staying here, erm, I'm not sure how he'll react." You finished, allowing your fingers to brush through Severus's dishevelled black hair.

"Hm," he hummed, pondering. "what does that mean... for us?"

"We will just have to grin and bear it until he 'deems it safe to leave'." You made a face, mocking Ben's words from that moment in the Great Hall. A faint amused smile spread across Severus's face, your chest tingling at the sight of it. "And I'm not sure I can tell him about us, he might just lose it, you know how he... you know- hates you."

"That would truly be a sight to behold," Severus smirked, the arrogance in him slithering out. You rolled your eyes at him. "However, we must be wise in our decisions, I do not want you getting hurt." His other hand held your cheek, fingers brushing a stray strand of messy hair behind your reddening ears.

"Do you think you can handle acting like you hate me for a few more days?" You asked, a bashful grin gracing your blushing face. Your hand settled atop of his large one as he caressed your cheek. Severus couldn't believe how lucky he was. What on Earth did he do to deserve this? To deserve such a beautiful, kind creature like you?

"I did it for the past year, another few days is nothing." He quipped quickly, a playful tone in his voice. You scoffed at him.

"Wow," you breathed out, grinning, your hands flying to his chest to push him off of you. He obliged and leaned up, stepping out of the trap of your legs. You slipped off of the table and picked up your underwear and cardigan, putting them both back on. An embarrassed red blush fluttered across your cheeks as fresh memories of Severus rolling up your nightdress flooded your mind, almost drowning you.

"Oh, that's too far?" He laughed softly. You head flew to look at him, your heart skipping a beat from the sound of his beautiful laugh. You'd never heard it before, and it was... gorgeous, to say the least.

"That's the first time I've heard you laugh - genuinely." You gasped, an uncontrollable smile spreading across your face like a wildfire. Almost immediately, Severus's face dropped and he rolled his eyes, clearly opposed to your positive reaction. He wasn't exactly fond of being fawned over, it made him feel weak.

"And it'll be the last." He groaned, turning away from you as another sweet laugh bubbled in the back of your throat.

"I should get back, Ben is probably wondering where I am, or... he's still asleep, oblivious to the world." You sighed heavily, padding towards Severus's tall, cloaked form. He slowly turned around, his black eyes sparkling in the orange torchlight.

"Yes," He said softly, fingers coming up to hold your chin. All sense and feeling suddenly drained from your legs. "Though I'm not sure I can promise to stay away from you, let alone keep my hands off of you." Severus muttered, his deep, languid voice sending a shock through your smaller body.

Your breath hitched, "Well, you're going to have to try," you exhaled softly, eyes flicking between his. He brought your chin up, cool fingers grasping it sweetly, and pressed a tender kiss upon your lips. Naturally, your hands flew up to sit against his strong chest, a guttural groan emitting from his throat as he kissed you. You had to swallow the moan that threatened to slip from you, feeling yourself become aroused all over again. "Alright, I really have to go." You whispered against his mouth, though your body was showing the complete opposite of what you said.

You kissed him back, a little harder, tracing your tongue against the surface of his bottom lip. "Go, then." He murmured back, hands slipping from your face and down to your waist, gripping you teasingly slow. You arched into him, breaths becoming shallow and wanting.

"I'm trying," you whimpered, "you're making this very hard."

"Let me make it easy for you then." Before you could protest, Severus tore himself from you, a needy, desperate whine falling from your lips.

"Gods, you're such a tease." You groaned, folding your arms against your chest, a clear show of disappointment. Severus couldn't help but smile at you. You looked so incredibly cute with that unhappy frown on your little face.

"My apologies." Severus mused sarcastically. "Now, go, I will see you tomorrow."

You sighed, "Alright, fine..." eyes looking at his form dangerously, rousing him.

"Stop it, Y/N."

"What?"

"You know exactly what you're doing."

"Do I?" You blinked, an innocent look crossing your features.

"Leave. Now." Severus said sternly, gesturing to the door as he swept behind his desk, seating himself.

"Alright, I'm going." You couldn't help but smile cheekily as you moved towards the door, fingers clicking it open reluctantly. "Same time tomorrow?"

"We'll see. Now, go."

And so you did, slipping out of his classroom sneakily, making sure to shut his door as quietly as possible with the brightest smile on your blushing face.

What the hell just happened?

Part 12!

oh LORDT. i do hope i wrote that scene well, it was tough i won't lie. however, credit to the weeknd, bro really helped me.

let me know your thoughts, i'm always curious to see what you think :)

i love you guys!! thank you again!! make sure to drink enough water, it's getting super hot again ffs! >:(

taglist:

@a-laufeyson

@emilynissangtr

@livillain00

@meowskii

@nooneeveryonenoone

@vesperbatty

@biggest-simp-eversposts

@881127fara

@freshmoneyalmondathlete

@sonoluvr22

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@sayonara30

@novas-dreamworld

@ms-snape

@captainrogers-19

@once-upon-an-imagine

@cj-ghostemoji-destielpie

@renirat

@0chemicalwaste0

[fallstaticexit]

Benji has always been a bit different from the other Briars. There's no doubt he loves his family but money talks and his phone is always ringing.

prev / next

Benji: Go for Ben.

Ami: Guess who had a very amazing 6 month check up.

Benji: Obviously it’s our best girl-

Finn: Hi papa! S’ Finn!

Benji: Hey, buddy. Had a good day in school?

Finn: Uhhhh huh!

Ami: He was the line leader a 4th day in a row.

Benji: Line leader today, global powerhouse tomorrow, you know.

Ami: Are you sitting down?

Benji: Yess...?

Ami: So...don’t make a big fuss but, Mama and Baba invited us over for dinner.

Benji: Ami...

Finn: Yay!!!

Ami: You have to come this time, Ben. Baba is starting to get antsy.

Benji: Well Baba thinks Papa is a big stinky poopy head.

Finn: [giggles]

Ami: He does not. You know Baba. He’s...traditional. He doesn’t understand the vast complexity and nuances of the corporate world. He values family.

Benji: I value family! Our technology advances the modern family dynamic. Servos pick up the slack so parents can spend more time with their kids-

Ami: I know that, Ben but Baba is old school. He thinks you can work and play and you do too much work. It’s just dinner.

Ami: Tell papa, Finny.

Finn: Yeah, papa. S’dinner!

Ami: Your mother and father will be there. So no excuses.

Benji: [grumbles] ...yes, dear.

Ami: We love you. Dress casual. That means wear jeans. Bye-Bye.

Benji: [groans]

Secretary: Sir? You have a representative from the Landgraab Foundation on line 2 about the merger.

Benji: Take a message, please. I have dinner with my in laws.

Finn: Hellloo! Yooohooo!

Mama Ito: Oh, I am so glad you all were able to come for dinner. You all look like you’re hungry!

Elliot: Thank you for having us.

Benji: Oh yeah. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Baba Ito: Mhm. No big hot shot meeting to tend to, Mr. Hot Shot?

Ami: I thought you said you’d behave?

Baba Ito: What! I only make small talk. They don’t small talk in those big shiny offices?

Baba Ito: How was your trip back home, Willow?

Willow: Oh, it was lovely! I’ll take any chance I can get to see our family.

Baba Ito: So your mother makes time to visit family in the states, eh? When is the last time you seen your family, Benjamin?

Ami: Baba...

Benji: I mean...it’s been...some time...

Willow: I was just telling Benji that we’re invited to his Uncle Silas wedding this fall. Perfect time for the kids to meet the rest of the family.

Benji: And that does sound lovely, but the quarter ends at the beginning of fall. My schedule will only allow one trip, and that’s for Winterfest.

Baba Ito: Tuh! You think you have it so good, business man. Next thing you know, you’re an old man and time has passed you by. What then!

Elliot: Mr. Ito is right, beta. He has alot of wisdom we can all learn from.

Baba Ito: Heh. Yeah. Yeah! I am right, aren’t I?

Benji: My company can’t run itself, you know!

Finn’s Inner Monologue: I sure don’t know what the heck is going on here and I’m not sticking around to find out. See ya next episode!

[oizysian]

| INTRO |

All Eyes on Me masterlist

Word Count: 500

•

"I'll take care of you."

"It's rotten work."

"Not to me. Not if it's you. "

- Euripides

•

Nine thousand nine hundred ninety-seven, nine thousand nine hundred ninety-eight, nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine ...

I held my breath as I watched the counter go up. The chat was going wild, the comments pouring in about how close I was to ten thousand followers. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as the number finally hit ten thousand, my heart pounding in my chest as the number went to ten thousand and one.

"We did it!" I cried, trying my hardest to keep up with the chat. "Thank you all so much!"

I had promised my viewers that once I hit ten thousand followers I would host a charity stream to raise money for The Trevor Project, an organization that helps LGBTQ+ youth. I couldn't even express how excited I was.

"Thanks to all of you, I can give back to my community by hosting this charity stream!" I clapped excitedly, returning my attention to the game I was currently playing. "And with every $100 raised, I'll put up $50 of my own money."

I looked from my game to the chat, smiling at their excitement. I had built this community from the ground up, creating a safe space for people like me; a place where everyone could be themselves and make friends while playing video games together. That's all I had ever wanted, and now, things could only go up from here.

"None of this would be possible without you guys." I sniffled, wiping the tears off my cheek with the back of my hand. "Now you're all making me cry." I laughed, overwhelmed by emotion.

This was one of the best days of my life. All the hard work had finally paid off and now I could finally give back to the people who helped me get to where I was today.

Y/N CHECK TWITTER

y/n twit rn

TWEETER

you've been twote

I noticed a lot of comments about Twitter and decided to check it out. I paused my game again and switched the screen to my browser. I brought up Twitter and noticed that I had some new mentions, likes, follows and comments. I clicked my notifications and nearly dropped dead at the sight.

@brielarson: hey @y/n_gaymergod I want in on that charity stream. hmu

Oh my god. My jaw went slack as I stared at the message. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Brie Larson, an actual celebrity, wanted to join in on my charity stream? If I could get her on board with my idea, I'd be able to raise so much money for The Trevor Project!

Without giving it a second thought, I replied:

@y/n_gaymergod: @brielarson HI! I would absolutely love it if you joined the stream! I'll DM you with the details! :D

This was the best day of my life so far.

•

【Ｐｌａｙｌｉｓｔ】

Boyfriend - Dove Cameron

Let Me Down Slowly - Alec Benjamin

blind - ROLE MODEL

Astronomy - Conan Gray

I Hear a Symphony - Cody Fry

Flaming Hot Cheetos - Clairo

Friends - Chase Atlantic

this is what falling in love feels like - JVKE

Infinity - James Young

Arcade - Duncan Laurence & FLETCHER

[sailor-aviator]

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Prologue

Don’t Hang'em Til Noon: Prologue

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader

Summary: Jake “Hangman” Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Mentions of parent deaths, swearing, no Dagger members yet, but they’re mentioned, use of y/n. I think that might be it?

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated! Let me know what you all think! Should I continue? 18+ ONLY!! This work is also being published on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator.

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

The carriage did very little to quell the seemingly never ending heat of the western territories. In fact, you were fairly sure it was making it worse. You had long given up on attempting to read the many books you had packed - the heat coupled with the constant jostling from the dirt path causing you to nearly lose the contents of your stomach on multiple occasions. Why your brother thought he would try his hand at settling the expansive west, you’d never understand.

Your brother, Benjamin, wasn’t an impulsive, reckless man. No, quite the opposite actually. He had done well for himself back home in Maryland at your father’s law firm. One of the best law firms in the state, perhaps even the entire eastern seaboard. Your great-grandfather had founded the firm, and it was your brother who inherited the family’s legacy when your father had passed only a year prior.

You let out a long sigh, still trying in vain to cool yourself down with your prized folded fan. It had been a gift from your mother on your sixteenth birthday, and it was one of the few things you had left of her now. Your father had been thrown into the depths of despair when she died - the doctor’s had said it was consumption. It was a miracle, really, that none of you had contracted it. Your father had withdrawn after her death, and your brother had been left to pick up the slack as a result. Thankfully, he had already been regarded as a respectable lawyer at the time. So it had thrown you for a loop when he announced one night at dinner that he was moving his practice out west.

You had had been completely against the idea, of course. Why wouldn’t you be? Your whole life was spent amongst polite society in Baltimore. Your friends were there. You had interests there. Your parents were buried there.

“We’ll make happier memories, y/n,” Benjamin had said with a soft smile. “We’ll have a fresh start there. What do you say, Scout?”

Of course, when he called you by your childhood nickname, it was hard to ignore the pull on your heart. You had earned that nickname before you had even hit double digits. Your father was an avid hunter, and despite the constant protesting from your mother, he insisted on bringing you along.

“It’s not proper for a young lady,” she had scowled at him, earning a mischievous smile from your father.

“And so is scowling, my darling. Yet, here we are.”

You chuckled at the memory. Your mother had grown red in the face and practically stomped her way out of the parlor. She had refused to speak to your father until he came home the next afternoon with a small bouquet of wildflowers. They had sat proudly on the table by the front door until they withered weeks later. And you had, indeed, gone on the hunting trip, picking up the art of tracking fairly quickly much to your father’s approval.

“She’s a natural! A regular scout, she is!” he had exclaimed excitedly to your mother when you had returned from the trip. Despite herself, your mother had smiled warmly at his enthusiasm.

Your heart clenched again at the happy memories from long ago. Your mother had died nearly five years ago now, and with your father’s death still so fresh, it was hard to allow yourself to dwell too long on those memories. Perhaps Benjamin was right. What you both needed was a fresh start.

The carriage lurched to a halt on the side of the road, and you heard the driver climb down from his perch. Gathering your skirts, you opened the door and stepped out into the blazing sun. No, the sun was much worse than the stifling heat of the carriage. Shielding your eyes from the dazzling light, you looked over to where the driver tended to the horses.

“Why have we stopped, sir?” you asked, moving to the front of the carriage. The older man looked up at you with a friendly smile, but you could see the tension that laced his shoulders.

“Just giving the horses a quick break, miss. We’ll be movin’ on shortly. I reckoned you’d want to stretch your legs for a bit, anyway.”

“Yes, thank you,” you smiled, looking around at the seemingly endless wasteland before you. Oh, how you longed for the gardens of Baltimore.

“How much farther until we reach Maverick?” you inquired. The newly founded town of Maverick was named after it’s founder - Peter “Maverick” Mitchell. A prominent businessman who had decided to try his luck at helping settle the west, much like your brother.

“Only a couple more miles now, miss,” the driver answered politely, eyes darting around the terrain.

“Are you quite alright?” you asked, nerves starting to eat their way up your spine.

“Just making sure we aren’t ambushed while we ain’t paying attention, is all.”

“Ambushed?” Your eyebrows shot up in alarm. The driver nodded.

“Yes’m. These parts are the Dagger Gang’s territory.”

“The Dagger Gang?” you murmured, inching closer to the carriage.

The driver scratched the back of his head and let out a sigh. “Some o’ the meanest sons of bitches in the west. Gang is led by Hangman and Rooster, and no one wants to get on their bad side.”

You didn’t respond. Of course you had heard rumors of outlaws here in the west, but you didn’t even think to entertain the possibility of them being anywhere near you. A mistake you now regretted. The driver must have seen your thoughts on your face because he offered you a reassuring smile.

“I reckon we’ll be fine, miss. Don’t you worry now.”

“Yes, thank you,” you answered politely, turning to make your way back towards the carriage. It was only a few moments later when you heard the driver climb back up onto his perch. The carriage lurched again as it began to move once again down the empty road.

Oh, what had you gotten yourself into?

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

Undrunk [hangman PT. 7/12]

PART OF MY “WHATEVER THIS IS” SERIES WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE

PAIRING: JAKE ‘HANGMAN’ SERESIN x Female Plus Size Bartender!Reader

NICKNAME: Sunshine

Warning: 18+ Smut ahead!

It goes without saying but I do not give permission for anyone to use my work or copy it somewhere else.

Want to be added to the tag list for this character, all stories or another character? let me know here :)

PLOT: Penny Benjamin's niece works at The Hard Deck, saving the money she earns to get out of the west coast and put herself through Graduate School. What happens when a pretty boy pilot ends up as her fake boyfriend?

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / PART TEN / PART ELEVEN / FINAL PART

A growl rasps through the man in front of you and the delicious pinch of the flesh on your hips tightens. Jake punctuates his words with nips along your jaw, his perfect teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “I won’t be able to stop myself. I won’t be able to come back from this,” he admits heavily, his voice dripping with desire in your ear.

“Fuck me,” you breath, rutting against his hips under the glow of the streetlamp. And just like that, the crumbling dam breaks. Jake’s hands are gone from your waist, now a vice grip on your wrists as he all but drags you down the streets of North Island until you can see his truck parked in front of your home. As you slide through the gate with a rapid haste, you can’t help but yank the broad man against your front. Your back slams against the metal of the truck door, handle digging into your shoulder blade as you kiss passionately.

Making out for a moment, Jake’s fingertips slip passed the lacy material of your skirt until he’s skimming along your warmth. A loud, high pitched whine bubbles out of your glossy, swollen lips as he begins rubbing slow circles over your clothed bundle of nerves. Your skin is on fire, thighs cramping as you try to spread further to allow his touch. You moan against his mouth, oblivious to the notion that here you are – being nearly finger fucked in your driveway for your neighbors’ viewing.

The thought finally breaks your dazed mind, shattering your reality as you pull back from him. Your chest is rising hazardously as you press against him for some distance. His motions stop immediately, blazing green eyes searching your face for signs of mistrust or horror. “Inside,” you breath out, “We need to go.” You swallow down a shaky breath when the crease between his brows dissipates.

Jake follows you up the path, up the stairs to your porch and you can feel his heat against your back as he waits as patiently as possible for you to key the door open. It takes seconds but feels like forever until you finally turn the doorknob and shove the door open. You spin quickly, wrapping yourself around the pilot as he pushes you against the door. The weight of your bodies slamming it shut as you again kiss each other with a fervor, mouths moving rapidly as your fingertips begin to unbutton his shirt.

The material is ripped from his waistline and dragged off his perfect body as he shoves the pure white from your hips to expose your supple thighs. His nails scrap gently along the skin as he rubs up and down, mouth devouring yours as you shove the cotton down his bulging arms. His torso is toned, his abs marbled perfection as you begin to press your lips along each section of his skin in admiration.

“Lift your arms,” he groans against your collarbone, and you follow Jake’s command, raising your arms to allow for him to tug your dress from your body. When he gets the material over your hair, he can’t help but let his jaw go slack. You’d forgone a bra tonight, the tight sculpting of the dress you wore enough of a support to not need a dreaded extra piece of material.

His eyes are trailing along the exposed skin of your breasts and the world stands still. “You’re fuckin’ perfect,” Jake murmurs before he goes to work, suckling one plush nipple between his lips. Your fingertips comb through his short and fluffy blond locks, nails scratching along his scalp aggressively as pleasure washes over you.

You press your knee forward, connecting between his legs to graze his growing length trapped beneath his black jeans. Against your naked thigh, you can feel the stretch and tightening fabric against his bulge as you begin to press further and further into him until he can’t take it. His mouth pops as he pulls away from your swollen bud, hand coming up to twist and tug your other nipple.

At his straightened height, you can pop the button on his jeans and snake your hand beneath the fabric to graze along his thick length. Another groan escapes his mouth as his forehead nuzzles into the column of your neck. Jake begins sucking on the skin there, distracting himself as your hand squeezes him and begins to nudge his tight jeans down passed his ass.

“Fuck Sunshine,” his voice is deeper than you’d ever heard it and you feel the wetness between your thighs, beneath the silky fabric of your panties. You shove against his chest again and he cups the back of your neck, heaving you along with him until the back of his knees touch the soft fabric of the couch. He falls back, quickly tugging his jeans and briefs down to his ankles to reveal the entirety of him.

Your mouth runs dry, the length of him delectable and throbbing. His head is a swollen red, begging to be touched; to be relieved as he is wound too tight. “See something you like?” his teasing tone pulls you from your daze and you lean down to take him in your mouth. “Uh uh,” Jake’s voice stops you, fingers twining in your curly locks as you climb on his lap.

“Not interested in head?” you crack, a wide grin washing over you as you settle onto his thighs. His length is at the perfect angle against your clothed core, and you can feel the dripping of your wetness. “Didn’t take you as the type.”

“There’s nothing more I’d love to do than fuck your pretty little mouth,” Jake seethes against your bottom lip, tongue grazing. “But I need to feel your wet cunt before I nut like a teenager on their first date.”

“I’m honored I can bring you to your knees so easily,” you kiss him fiercely, hips grinding against him for more friction. He bucks up against you without control, grunting at the contact. He kisses you back with an aggression that caused shivers to run up your spine. His strong hands clench the sides of your flimsy underwear, giving it one strong pull as the ripping sound fills your living room.

You didn’t think that the feeling of him rubbing against your bare cunt could cause stars to appear in your eyes, but you’d never fucked Jake Seresin before. You whimper at the feeling, rising up slightly so that Jake can pump himself a few times, his cock sliding between your soaked lips with ease. “Who goes easily on their knees?” he taunts, as his head swirls along your entrance.

“Please,” you beg, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you gaze down into his eyes. He looks so soft and yet so devious in the same breath, and you’ve never been more turned on in your life. It’s like all your nerves are on fire as you beg again. “Please fuck me, Jake.” And it’s the vulnerability in your voice, the quiver of your lip that should’ve pulled Jake away. Should’ve been the indication that he should stop this, that he shouldn’t take this step and ruin all you both had worked toward.

This eating guilt rang one final alarm in the back of his mind before taking out the batteries and laying silent. The eating guilt that told him he wasn’t enough for you, that he wasn’t the man you deserved.

But Jake Seresin was weak. And so, he pushed his cock up into your entrance with the ease of greeting an old lover, up against your g spot as you meet his hips. You sink down on him with a light moan, your mouth opening as he stretched you out. You pause momentarily as you hit hilt, letting the feeling of fullness wash over you as your hot breath mixes together with his. It feels like heaven.

“You alright,” he peppers kisses along your collarbone as you adjust to the feeling of him, the sweet pressure between your legs soothing as you begin to rock slowly.

“Uh huh,” the noise the only thing falling off your lips as you begin to move against each other deeply, chasing a blooming pleasure within your stomach. You ride him with intention, hands gripping the back of the couch to set a rapid pace.

“God, you feel like heaven,” Jake grunts, pushing up to meet your intensifying movements as waves of pleasure continue to roll straight to your core. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He cups your cheek as he stares up at you, the goddess you are. His green eyes are sparkling, hooded as he nears completion too early in the night as his thumb pulls at your bottom lip.

You don’t think about it, sucking his digit into your mouth slowly and swirling your tongue around it while you fuck him. When he feels satisfied with your work, he pulls away and his hand comes between your legs to rub along your clit to help you finish. Loud moans and slapping skin fill the space as the coil in your tummy finally snaps and you’re falling over the edge.

He picks up the pace for you, rolling you both so that his left foot grazes along the floor. Jake begins to drill into you with tension, his hips whispering a magic unknown as he works you through your orgasm and driving deeper into your cunt. “Fuck, you feel so good Sunshine,” he grunts as he pulls on of your legs over his shoulder, pumping himself in and out of your wetness as your eyes fall shut in an afterglow of pleasure.

You look beautiful, taking him so well and it doesn’t take long for him to finish, pulling out just in time to finish on your thigh as his hand takes over. His forearm is flexing when you open your eyes, and your fingertips wrap around his cock to drain him. A stream of cum paints your skin as he moans and grunts, until your hand slows and his fingertips cease your movements.

Jake’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he calms his heartrate. You take a few deep breaths too, sweaty body shivering from the AC air blowing on your sweaty skin. “Well, that was hot,” you say slowly, leaning up on your elbows to stare up at him. Jake grins, a naughty gaze still present as he pumps himself, leaning down to tug off his briefs and wiping his seed from your skin.

He tosses the material across the room slightly and wraps his hand around the base of his cock, squeezing a few times. He’s already half hard again and his other hand is beginning to tickle up your thigh. You jump when his fingertips slide through your soaking wet folds, nerves ablaze as he lays himself between your thighs. “Think you could cum again Sunshine?” he laps at your juices, humming against you. “Want to watch you fall apart on my tongue.”

You eventually make your way to your bedroom and between the sheets, wrapped up in one another so deeply that you were unsure you were on Earth anymore. You fall asleep in a naked heap, glowing and sweaty in the early hours of the morning.

When you wake up, hours later to the blinding sun seeping in through the curtains, you moan in delight. Stretching slightly, your hand skims across the mattress looking for the warmth of your lover but your fingertips come up empty. “Morning,” you groan, eyes peeling open to see an empty spot beside you. A pang of pain runs through your chest but you hold it down, wrapping the sheet along your torso as you sit up in the quiet of your bedroom.

Jake must be in the bathroom, you think to yourself, calming your nerves as you groggily rise from the bed and make your way down the hall. Only to notice the bathroom door open, empty. The same with the kitchen. It isn’t until you peer out your window that a sob racks through your body, your empty driveway staring back at you.

You wheeze, your breath leaving your body as insecurity rolls in waves down on top of you. He’d left. Jake had done the deed and ditched, not even bothering to leave a note – something you would spend all day looking for. He wouldn’t send a text, wouldn’t give you a call. He’d taken all you had and left you broken in his wake, sobbing against your front door in the quick aftermath of the Halloween night.

A/N: My deepest apologies for the trauma of this ending! We needed to ruffle some feathers and cause some pain...Jake's not the best partner yet!

Taglist: 

@luckyladycreator2

@ceilingfann

@rosiahills22

@child-of-sunshine

@callsign-scully

@hopefulinlove

@cevans-winchester

@double-j

@blue-aconite

@callsign-hummingbird

@romanoff13-blog-BLOG

@rosiahills22

@kajjaka

@sylviaes99

@chaoticassidy

@child-of-of-the-sunshine

@memoriesat30

@seresinsweetie

@genius2050

@mayhemmanaged

[rippedstitch-s]

( @intxication )

Benjamin Andropolis. Asa finds as he shoves a bloodied jumper into the kitchen sink to soak it that he likes at least knowing the person's name. Something about it adds to the catharsis, lessens the depravity.

Maybe not really. A man is still dead. Body already dropped off to be cut up and disposed of. And Asa's a little dirtier than he'd expected. He can see it under his fingernails and that's the part he dislikes the most. A shower's probably best.

He's in a stained undershirt and dark slacks in his eclectic little flat where cats sleep and traipse about when he hears a knock. Shit. Shit. Asa wipes his hands quickly on a hand towel, brushes messy and wild hair back - can't help that his eyes are just as wild, untamed in their adrenaline. There's a few jars sitting on the countertop... anyone would know what the dark scarlet liquid is.

Asa checks the peephole and lets out a heavy breath of relief, tugging the door open. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, love. Come in, please. Hurry." He mumbles, pink-tinged fingers grabbing the other's arm to tug him inside.

[gumballavocadoharry]

Unjust Corporate; Jack Chambers:

*This is the 50s, so corporal punishment was around and that meant teachers were allowed to administer swats with paddles or canes then. It's unethical, but I have to be historically correct to set the scene. I do not agree with this, and it's a trigger containing: mentions of abuse, abusive childhood, student abuse, hitting, beating, some racisms, bad parenting and bad educational system. *

Mr. Driscoll. Hated by every student (and teacher) in the building. Possibly the district. 

A very strict and callous type who would punish for even the simplest infringements. Assignment was a day late- an F. One word misspelled on a paper- F. Whispering in class- a hard paddle against your backside. None of the teachers in the school used the paddle or the cane. But Mr. Driscoll did. He expected perfection from every student, despite even if their best attempts couldn't come to par. A painly thin older man with white hair, a thin pasty mustache and liver spots all over his hands. A slight slouch in his posture, but still managed to stand a solid six foot in a half.

Then he met Roger Chambers. The boy swore he hated him from day one. His name was spoken stringent against his lips. Sharp and stern looks into Roger's mischievous but innocuous green eyes where filled with this utter disgust like the way you spot maggots in rotted fruit. "ROGER! STOP TALKING!" Roger wouldn't say a word. 

"ROGER STOP DAYDREAMING AND PAY ATTENTION!" Roger would force himself out of his gaze through the classroom window and snap back to the teacher's lesson. It was during class that Roger realized he could use both hands when writing. Left and right.

Finishing the last piece of his Benjamin Franklin- using his left hand- a harsh burning sting was slapped to his wrist. "Ow!" grabbing his wrist and looking up to Mr. Driscoll. "Use your right hand, Mr. Chambers!" Tapping the ruler against his palm, Mr. Driscoll gave Roger a acrimonious glare. Tears brimming his eyes, Roger slowly picked up his pencil with his right hand; ignoring the mordant pain that was shooting through his wrist. 

The walk home from school was quiet. "Hey Roger, what did you get on that Algebra test?" Roger shrugged. "Maybe, a 56- I don't know." Susan glanced to Roger with a slight furrow. "Did Matthew Malkin give you wedgie?"

"I don't know, probably." "Did Mom and Dad jump across the moon and into a pile of turnips that shoot out raisins?"

"Yeah, probably." A laugh escaped from Susan. "Did you even hear what I just said?" Roger turned sharply to Susan, almost ringing himself out of his world. "Uh... what?" Susan crooked her head to the side. "Roger, what's wrong?" Roger scratched the side of his head. "Oh, nothing. It's just.... I have a lot of homework." Susan bit the edge of her lip and kept quiet. Letting the sound of the swishing spring wind bellow her skirt, Susan would occasionally look to Roger and then back to the sidewalk. "Hi sweeties," Alice wiped the last path of suds off the tables from the cleaner. "I'll make you a snack in just a minute."

"Thanks." Susan said, taking a seat on the couch. Roger smiled before charging toward his bedroom. His wrist brushed against his slacks, twinging the boy with pain. Roger scanned his left wrist again. A thick red welt formed in the center of a purplish-pink bruise. Roger stared at the sore. Watching it ooze from his skin like an ugly patch. Changing into a droopy maroon sweater that hovered over his legs, making them look little under the cloak of garment. Roger trollied down the stairs, ignoring the stares from his sister and mother. "Roger, you changed your shirt." Roger smiled and took a seat at the bar, reaching for the fresh baked cookies on the platter in front of him. Alice let a slight furrow arch through her eyebrows. "I got cold, so I changed my shirt." As if Roger could sense Alice's buried question. Alice raised an eyebrow. "Okay...." Roger kept his gaze on the counter. A fear slithered through him- wafting in this musky glower of already having blown his cover.

Roger perked himself up with a smile. "Sorry, if I'm coming off mysterious.... it's been a long day." Alice gave Roger a small smile. She leaned in closer, pouting her lip a bit. "Are you alright honey? Feeling okay?" Alice put her hand on Roger's left wrist and rubbed- pressuring the fore of it against the brim of the counter. Roger bit the inside of his bottom lip. "I'm fine- it's just that- my new history teacher had us doing a lot of work in class today." Alice smiled wider. Rubbing her hand against Roger's cheek, she leaned back and went back to the stove. Roger kept his stare on her a bit longer- wondering if her mind was already made up. And.... it was.

Jack came home and hour later. Roger was already at his grainy oak desk, finishing the last of his assingment. Signing the last cursive word on the paper, Roger's heartbeat sped up. A warm patch heated against the nath of his neck. A burning heat flashed through his skin. Mr. Driscoll taught history. Mr. Driscoll would fail him for one mistake. Or maybe not one at all. He hated Roger after all. He would cane his wrist again. Or berate him in front of the entire class. Roger didn't tell anyone of how Mr. Driscoll seperated his desk to the outside of the classroom for laughing too much. The memory burned deep into his brain- sauntering the grimness of how he couldn't even cry because of the passing students and teachers. Embarrassed and angry, Roger was banished to the outskirts of the class until lunch, where his desk was brought back inside, but with his crayons sprawled out over the hallway. They were swept up and thrown into the garbage when asked about them.

Roger scratched the itch by his eye. His finger became wet, letting the realization of brimming tears that trickled down his face sink in. He swallowed hard- letting the hollow of his woe slide down into his gut to loll there.

A knock on the door sounded. "Rogie?" Jack's soft voice was both a reassurance, and a parcel. Roger couldn't afford to carry a burden. His mind was weighted with Mr. Driscoll's rasping jarring voice. Jack invited himself in. He always did that when he thought the problem was big. It annoyed the children, but it would disperse with realization of Jack's love and concern. He took a seat on the bed, letting his eyes- filled with worry- bore into Roger's. "Hey bud.... you've been quiet today... everything okay?" 

"Yeah. Why, why wouldn't it be?" He frowned. "Because, you came home and didn't say anything-"

"I was tired. Mr. Driscoll piled on a lot of homework." Jack raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Driscoll?" Roger nodded. Jack rememberd Mr. Driscoll. He hated him too.

He never taught Jack's grade as a child, but when he moved to California as an adult, he found Mr. Driscoll to be the biggest prick of an educator he met. Uttering several words about him behind his back, the old man was embittered, in Jack's mind. He hated how he demanded unquestioned respect, despite never showing it back to anyone. Sometimes, even to his own superiors. Jack never forgot how in the line at a supermarket, Mr. Driscoll glared at the young ebony man, a bagger, who was extraordinarily polite and kind. His name tag read, Dan, and Jack didn't think twice about him. He just thought good business was good business. 

"I bet he steals from the registers." Mr. Driscoll snarled. Jack puncated his frown to the elderly man, who was in his early sixties at the time. "He probably has kids all over with different woman." Mr. Driscoll didn't say this to anyone but himself. But Jack heard him. He heard everything the man said. "I think he's doing a good job." Jack wished he hadn't opened his mouth. But was still glad he did. Mr. Driscoll turned around, but Jack stared straight ahead. "Respect your elders." He said before turning back towards the line. Jack towered over the man slightly. He stared deep into the back of his head like he wanted to burn holes through it. He did want to.

Mr. Driscoll turned around with a scowl over his face. "Maybe you could learn something from us elders, hm?" Jack smirked. "I think society's already beat me to it, hm?" 

"I can help the next customer!" A lady clerk yelled. Jack happily took his cart to the next line. Ringing up faster, Jack pulled an extra five from his wallet. Handing it to Dan, he smiled. "Thank you very much sir, have a nice day." Dan smiled. "You too!" Mr. Driscoll watched as Jack walked out of the store with the biggest smile across his face, before turning around to share one last smart alec smile toward the old man. 

The name sent this ping of anger through Jack. "Mr. Driscoll." He repeated. "He's your new history teacher?" Roger's eyebrows furrowed as he gave another nod. "Racist bastard." Roger gasped. "Oh! I'm sorry Roger! Don't repeat that, okay?"

"Mr. Driscoll's racist?" Jack nodded. "I know him. Don't worry it'll be okay." Roger felt reassured. A warm glow had illumentated through him like a candle in the dark night. Jack's face was set serious. Serious into this deep rigid frown. Jack turned back to Roger after staring at the specks of carpet for too long. "What did he do in class?" A cool fanned through Roger's chest. He didn't want to tell him what happened today. But he knew Jack would find out. He would come to the classroom and surveillance Mr. Driscoll like a prison guard. And he would deserve it. But it wouldn't help Roger forever. It wouldn't etch the pain from his mind, or the fear in his gut... or the twinge of heat from his bruised wrist.

"Roger?" Jack's voice softened and warm. "He.... was strict. Very strict- he always is with everyone. Even some of the teachers." Jack narrowed his eyes. "But what did he do to you?" Roger swallowed. 

"I was talking too much in class. So....." Roger looked down. Jack wanted Roger to come closer to him, but couldn't choke out the words to say so. "What did he do Roger?" His voice laced more thickly in concern. 

"He yelled at me." Roger held in his tears. But Jack could sense them. He could sense the pain snaking through Roger, while his head was held down and his voice as frail as parchment paper. "What else?" Jack knew. Roger didn't know how, but he did.

"He put my desk....." Roger choked. Tears- not even having time to brim- begin dripping onto the carpet. He looked back up with tears and a wobbly mouth. "He made me sit out in the hall because I was laughing too much!" He brokedown. "Today in class, I decided I could use my left hand to write. And I did pretty good. Mr. Driscoll- ow!" Jack perked up. Roger had brushed a particular sensitive part of his wrist against his pants. "Ow.. ow...ow." He cried. Jack hurled himself up from the bed and grabbed Roger's wrist without question.

A big welt on his wrist. Bruising and burning with pain. The sight shattered Jack's heart to a million pieces. David would whip Jack's legs with a thick belt, till welts would sprout over his little calves. Sometimes, he whip his bare back or strike a paddle against his bare bottom. Coupled with slaps across the face and a throng of curses thrown at him, the sight of Roger's wrist nearly made Jack sick. He never bragged about his disciplines- there was nothing to brag about. Who could take pleasure in being beaten senseless for pratically nothing? Some boys at his school would laugh or brag about how many beatings they took from their fathers. Jack never joined in and in fact, would judge the boys. 

"What's so great about that?" he said once. Steward Hollister looked around before piping up. "Well, hasn't your dad ever beat ya?" 

"Yeah. I just don't laugh about it. It's ridiculous and abusive..... I'd much rather take pleasure in striking him back." He said, before walking back to his locker. "Sensitive little pussy." Steward laughed along with his friends. Jack slammed the books into locker and continued to the bleachers for the rally.

Looking at Roger's little wrist- his soft little wrist that was hurting, causing his little boy to welp in pain- sent an angry shiver through his spine. A muderous desire to wrap his bulky hands around Driscoll's neck and choke the life out of him until his face was as blue and purple as the bruise forming around the welt. 

"He... caned me." Roger's voice was so little. So innocent and fragile. Jack looked into Roger's eyes before cuffing his little lanky body into a bear hug. "Oh my little baby.... it'll be okay. Daddy's here. I'm so sorry.... I'm so sorry." Jack sounded regretful, despite not doing anything. "We'll take care of the boo boo." Roger didn't mind Jack's baby puns. In fact, he wanted it. He needed it. Clinging to Jack as he took him into the bathroom, Jack smoothed an ointment onto the welt before applying some kitchen ice. Placing a gentle hand on Roger's cheek, Jack looked into Roger's eyes with unfathomable sympathy and blazing fury. "Just hold it onto the welt and the bruising will go down in no time." Roger nodded, still sniffling. Jack placed a long big whistling smooch to Roger's cheek. Then another one, then another one. He didn't want to leave Roger's side for a second and would rather hold him in the hollow of his chest, placing candy kisses onto the ridge of his forehead.

Caned. It stuck out in Jack's brain all night. He would cane Mr. Driscoll. What he did to Roger, Jack would do to him thrice as hard. Jack kept his fists balled up all night, making the knuckles stiff in the morning. Jack finally hit it.

He would surprise Driscoll. He had no idea Roger was his son... but he would soon find out. Today... in the middle of history class.

Roger was sitting quietly at his desk. Mr. Driscoll spiting out nonsense facts about the british war of whatever. "ROGER! SIT UP STRAIGHT!" 

Jack could hear the harsh address from down the hall. Storming harder up to the classroom door- Jack dressed in his navy blue office suit, neat matching black dress shoes with a very stern look- peeked through the window of the classroom. 

"Roger come up here now!" Roger gulped, taking little steps up towards Mr. Driscoll. "It's funny. It's really funny how you think class is a joke? That all these students don't deserve to learn in peace!"

"But-"

"Hush up!" Grabbing a thick wooden paddle, Roger's eyes widened. "Turn around." Mr. Driscoll's voice venomed with hatered. Grabbing Roger's arm and snatching him around, Jack barged through the door- without thinking and yanked up Mr. Driscoll's arm- dragging him out of the classroom.

He practically slammed the old man against the walls of the corridor. "How dare you!" Jack hissed. "How dare you even lay a fingernail on my son like that!"

Mr. Driscoll straightend his suitjacket. "I didn't paddle him for your information- I was about to and he deserved it!" Jack came closer to the teacher's face. "I don't care what he did or didn't do. I saw you. I'll be the one to decide how and whether my child gets punished or not!"

"I am fully qualified to do my job, sir!" "To hell with your job- you ever touch my son again, it'll be the last time, you ever touch him... is that clear?"

Mr. Driscoll squinted his eyes. "Do I know you?" Jack didn't respond. His gruff breaths puffed out like steam out of the nostrils of a dragon. "That man.... you were in the supermarket- defending that colored boy-"

"He was a man. A grown man." Jack hissed. "How dare you." His voice trailed a little. "And yes! It's me! And that's my son."

Mr. Driscoll scoffed. "No wonder. The boy never knws when to keep his mouth shut- I'd pop him if I could." Even the burning glare from Mr. Driscoll, didn't save him from being lifted by the fringed of his collar.

"You're lucky I don't break your jaw into a million pieces! If you ever take that paddle out again- then you can shove it up your ass, because that's the first place I'm gonna come looking for it!" Dropping Mr. Driscoll back to earth, feet pinging so hard against the ground, that an ache begin to radiate. Jack's deadly glare riveted the man, before he whizzed past and into the classroom.

"Roger," Jack took Roger's hand and led him back outside. "How about you and me take the day off? Just the two of us?" A bright smile fell over Roger. "Oh boy! You mean it?!" Jack bent down and hugged Roger tightly. "Of course! I thought you could use some fun after that awful day you had." Jack cooed. Kissing the side of his temple, Jack took Roger's hand- both skipping down the hall with peps in their step. 

For Mr. Driscoll, this would surely be a day that would go down in history for him. He counted that as walked back into the classroom, wobbly and red faced.

The same way he left Roger yesterday, but with more vigour. Not able to look the class in the eye. He picked the paddle from the ground and set it on his desk.

"Class dismissed." He said shakily. As the classroom emptied out, Mr. Driscoll sat his desk and started his resignation letter. Somehow, he believed Jack. And he didn't want to take that risk.

[paeries]

a better teaser for domestic!harry

———

(note: soooOOOoooooo, i had to make a new google doc account because I ran out of room on the other. i lost some inspiration for sick of you, but like I said, i’ve been working on some other works for the time being, this being one of them. i went and reread the first teaser and thought immediately NO, so i redid it some, and here it is! ik nobody asked for it but i couldnt live with it any longer. kk ttyl 💋)

———

“Keep reading, I’m just going to rant a little bit. Try and drown me out.” She hummed, playing with her sock that was ruffled and scrunched up in some places at her ankles, “He was such a pig,” she started, “and Ben’s so lucky he looked like he actually liked the girl he was with, Harry, I swear to God, because otherwise I would’ve been home much, much earlier.” She gritted out through her clenched teeth, taking a calming breath and began playing with her hair. A habit of hers that always helped her relax. “Tell me why men think it’s totally okay to flat out say that they're a great lay- You know what, don’t answer that.. frankly, I’m in awe.” She huffed, shaking her head in disbelief and giggled as Harry peered over the top of his book, shaking his head and laughing while he lowered his book. “He didn’t… did he really?” He asked, chuckling as he leaned over to take his glasses off and set his book down. “He did! It was so embarrassing. I didn't know what to say.” Y/N whined, pouting as she looked at him, her head tilting to the side as she finally took in the relaxed state of him. Never before had a man so broad and long, managed to look so gentle. So homely. The sight had her biting her lip at the haunting tug of her heart as he rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

“Could’ve called me for an emergency excavation. Or at least told Benjamin. He’s a pal, would’ve understood.” He argued, raising a brow at her. She scoffed and scrunched her nose at him, “No, I couldn’t. Ben told me she was a very nervous girl. And I could tell she had relaxed and started enjoying herself once me and whatever-his-name-was started talking. So, naturally I, being the absolute angel that I am, took one for the team.” She shrugged, elbowing him in the side teasingly and reached over to his bowl of popcorn to fish one out. “They’re not stale, are they?” She asked, pausing just before popping one into her mouth, who knows when it was made. He widened his eyes at her and reached into the bowl to toss a few her way. “I made a bag about two hours ago thinking we were gonna try that movie out! Dickhead!” Y/N laughed and threw her handful at him as well. “I’m sorry, I forgot! At least I was miserable. Doesn’t that help console you in any way at all?” Doesn’t it help knowing I’d so much rather have been here curled up with you? “I suppose so.” He grumbled, grabbing the bowl and moving to stand. “C’mon,” He started, acting exasperated. “Let’s go make another.” And reached his hand out to help her up. “Grab that blanket too, will you? Just had it washed, I’d like to enjoy it, thanks.” He added, his eyes darting directly behind me to the blanket folded over his headboard. She laughed, her jaw falling slack at the newfound attitude. “Yes, sir.” She giggled, grabbing the blanket and stood, “Brought a pizza home too to share. Lost my appetite at the restaurant so I stopped ‘round Tonie’s on the way home.” She explained as she made her way to the kitchen again, Harry trailing behind. “Always so thoughtful, dove, thank you.” He hummed, striding to the furthest wall of the kitchen, poking his head through the cabinets as he rummaged around for another bag of popcorn. “Would you grab the parmesan and pepper flakes, while you’re in there please?” She asked, opening the box to plate up the pizzas for them and moved into the living room to set the plates down on the coffee table, hearing the microwave beep as he punched in a timer for the bag.

“S’really comin’ down out there, isn't it?” Harry said after some quiet, looking out the kitchen window as he waited for the popcorn to finish. She watched as he lost himself in thought, staring out the window, wondering what he was so distracted with. What’s worse was that she could feel her heartbeat in her ears, her throat, even her fingertips, as she set her hand over her chest to try and calm the throbbing that was bursting through her chest. “Yeah,” She responded quietly, not really sure if he was talking to himself. “Ominous, isn't it? Should’ve known it would be a shit night once the thunder started rumbling in.” And she swore she could just barely catch a hint of a smile from the tops of his cheeks, even with his head still turned mostly away. “Tried t’warn ya, did it?” He laughed, finally turning his head to her before retrieving the popcorn from the microwave and dumping it into a bowl. “Hey! Grab me a beer, would you?” She added quickly, before he could leave the kitchen. Harry turned on his heel, grabbing two beers, “That bad, huh? Y’never go f’beer.” He teased, turning the light off and taking a seat next to her on the couch. “Alright, y’settled? Better take a pee break now because m’not pausing for any reason this go around, got it?” He warned, laughing as she sheepishly got up to go to the bathroom ‘just in case’, he’d say. “The pizzas goin’ cold, Harry! Just start the movie.” She laughed, trying her best to get him to hear her through the door.

After she washed her hands, she sped through the hallway to sit back down, opening a beer and pulled her legs up onto the cushion. “Which one did you end up picking?” She murmured, taking a good swig before setting it back down to pick up a slice. “Interstellar. S’a big movie, lots of things to miss. Hence, why I made y’go to the bathroom beforehand.” He explained, pulling the throw blanket from his room over his lap, spreading it out to reach across hers as well. “Comfy?” He murmured, grabbing his own slice off his plate to take a bite. She nodded, watching his portion of a bite before getting back up, “M’bringing the whole damn box over.” She laughed out, hurrying into the kitchen to grab the entire box, as well as the rest of the six pack of beer in the fridge.

“Hurry back, it’s starting.” He hissed, playfully glaring as she sat them down on the coffee table. “Alright! Alright.” She giggled out, taking her place next to him to watch intently as the beginning scenes unfolded.

She risked a glance at Harry from the corner of her eye when she deemed it safe. He hardly moved if not for the slow rise and fall of his chest in order to breathe. His jaw tense, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes flickering quickly about the screen, he was focused. When he moved to grab a beer, she jumped and he laughed. “Y’can’t watch the movie, if you’re watchin’ me.” He mumbled, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I wasn’t watching you,” She huffed, swallowing thickly, “I was thinking about whether I locked the door behind me, and how I was going to tell you without bothering your focus.” “Y/N!” He huffed, shaking his head in mock disappointment while reaching for the remote to pause the movie. “Go and lock it.” He laughed, lifting both hands to rub his face. “Wha’ am I gonna do with you?” He laughed out, tugging the box of pizza closer to slide another slice out, kicking his socked feet up on the coffee table.

———

(aaaand there it is, for those that don’t know what i was complaining about, it was this. there isnt much difference but i feel better about it, ok??? this will also be on the masterlist from now on)

[laracrofted]

happy birthdayyyyy may I please I request “if you keep looking at me like that, i’m not responsible for what happens next.” for my love Bob? (love me a good man going feral)

i also love a good man going feral, and since i know my audience (aka you, dear), i had to throw in a little whiny bob 🫡

warnings: minors dni, explicit sexual content (oral, sex), swearing, bob floyd in powder blue (deserves a warning), alcohol, not proofread. bob x fem!reader.

Pete Mitchell and Penny Benjamin get married on a warm Saturday evening at the end of April.

It is a beautiful service — all whites and creams and pastel blues – and very well-attended.

Every important Naval Admiral is here, even Admiral Simpson, who supposedly doesn’t even like Captain Mitchell. He lurks near the champagne all night, making eyes at the woman who came with him, a pretty young thing in a backless periwinkle dress.

And not a dry eye in the house when Maverick mentions Goose and Carole Bradshaw in the speech at the reception.

Goose would’ve owed Carole $100 tonight. He never thought I’d settle down, but Carole always had a sixth sense about me. She always knew. And I know Goose is looking down on us and thinking, damn, Pete, Penny Benjamin?

It is a moving speech about friendship and fate and the love that comes back you for a second, even third time against all odds.

You barely hear a word.

You should probably be more ashamed than you are.

But Robbie is in a beautiful powder blue suit that brings out the deep shade in his eyes, crinkled with laughter from a joke that Maverick cracked. He looks so damn handsome in the golden glow of the pink and orange sunset.

You’re so in love with him. You can hardly breathe.

Damn damn damn.

Out of the corner of his eye, Robbie catches you watching him. A dimple carves out in his cheek as Robbie bites down on an adorable smile.

He finds your hand under the table. Leans over to brush his lips against the shell of your ear, breath warm with champagne.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that, and I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

Champagne fizzes in your bloodstream, making you bold. You reach across him for another canapé and accidentally brush your whole chest against his arm.

“And what happens next, Robbie?”

He swallows hard, eyelids fluttering closed.

Luckily, Pete Mitchell and Penny Benjamin wanted a destination wedding and wanted the reception to be in the ball room on the second level of the hotel.

You probably couldn’t have last a whole drive back home. You barely make it back to the room.

“You look so beautiful. This dress…”

Robbie guides the zipper down, leaving a kiss along your spine with every pull, and helps you step out of the dress. He drapes the fabric over his arm and carefully puts it on a hanger in the closet to prevent any wrinkles. Sweet man.

His gaze sweeps over the pale blue lingerie and the matching heels, and Robbie drinks you in, gripping your chin with gentle fingers and pulling you in for a kiss that leaves you wanting more, so much more.

“Get on the bed.”

You do.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. You sigh.

He has great forearms.

You reach down to unbuckle the heels, but Robbie stills your palm. He lifts your hand and kisses along your knuckles, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes.

“I like them. Leave them on.”

Fully clothed, Robbie kneels down in those nice slacks and pulls you to the edge of the mattress, lifting your legs over his shoulders and sighing against you.

His next kiss is pressed to the damp spot in the lace, now a dark blue under his attention. His tongue dips underneath the side of the fabric and licks at the seam of you, and Robbie moans.

"God... Taste so good."

You come three times on his eager tongue before Robbie turns you loose, mouth shining with you.

You sink down on him in one move, soaking wet now, and Robbie whines, unconsciously canting his hips into you, pushing even deeper. You'll never forget that beautiful sound.

He comes with a broken whine too.

[amberlynnmurdock]

The Good In You (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Reader

Chapter Summary: On his way to her office, Dex is interrupted by Beckett.

Genres/Warnings: fluff, angst, mild violence

Words: 2.6k

Ao3 Link

The translucent lights of the office never bothered Dex until recently—until he started to feel himself veer off the path of a person who had a routine and stayed out of trouble. Since that night at the bar, other agents have treated him only slightly differently. It was obvious who took whatever bait Beckett was feeding them and it was obvious who didn’t.

“Morning, Dex,” Nadeem greeted in the kitchen. Dex was stirring his cup of coffee with two thin straws. He looked at Nadeem and offered a smile. 

“Morning,” is all he says.

“You goin’ to the gala next weekend?” 

“I don’t think so,” Dex replied regretfully, thinking of her disappointed expression when he told her the same thing. The moment Dex hit the word “Going” on the invite, he immediately regretted it, letting his anxiety get the better of him. 

“You always miss it. You should come this year, Dex. Especially since __ is going,” Nadeem raised his eyebrows at the mention of her name. Dex ignored it, pretending not to see the implication. 

“It’s not like that,” Dex answered truthfully. She was just a coworker he spoke to more than others, a coworker who seemed to take a liking to him, a coworker he happened to look forward to seeing every day. 

“Just think about it,” Nadeem pats his hand on Dex’s shoulder. Dex nods, smile fading, as he watches the milk he poured turn his coffee a few shades lighter. 

The thought of having anything romantic with her was enough to send Dex to run immediately for the fences, the woods, to be by his lonesome. He didn’t have time for something like that; he didn’t think he had the strength to uphold such a responsibility—a responsibility he couldn’t bear the thought of failing to uphold. It wasn’t her he was afraid of, but the idea she had of him that he knew he could never live up to. It was easier for him to admire someone from afar—always in the shadows, looking up at a tall statue. He felt closer this way, the farther he was. There was less of a chance of him screwing it up. There was less of a chance of getting hurt and abandoned. 

Nadeem left the kitchen. Dex stared at his hot cup of coffee and half thought about making her a cup and bringing it to her office. How did she take it again? A dash of milk? There was still some coffee left in the pot, just enough for one more cup. Dex took a cup out of the drawer and poured the rest of the coffee into it. He grabbed the milk from the fridge and poured just enough that counts as a “dash.” He mixed it with two fresh straws and made his way to her office. 

Dex slowly approached her office to make sure she wasn’t busy with a patient. Luckily, her door was open, and Dex could see her from outside her windows: she was sitting at her desk, scrolling through her phone. He smiled a little before stepping into the doorway to reveal his presence. 

Dex cleared his throat.

“Oh, morning, Dex,” she said, slightly startled. She locked her phone and sat up straight in her chair. “You won’t tell anyone you caught me slacking, will you?”

Dex shook his head with a light laugh. “Never. I made you a cup of coffee—you like it with just a dash of milk, right?”

  “Yes,” her face lightened up when she saw Dex holding the second cup in his hand. The warmth from her expression radiated to his skin when she met him halfway and felt her take the cup from his hand. “Thanks for thinking of me. How are you? I haven’t had you in my office in a while. I guess that’s a good thing.”

Dex smiled and looked down. Truthfully, he’d been avoiding her, even though he didn’t want to. Plus, he hasn’t been sent on any challenging jobs lately that could get him hurt. 

“I guess I better start making more time for you then,” Dex said with a smile. “I’m doing fine. Things seem pretty calm right now. But that always means something crazy will happen soon.”

“Hopefully not,” she says. “I like the calm. I like how it is now.”

“How are you? Had to fix or heal anything crazy lately?” He tried for light conversation. Internally, Dex felt himself cringe. 

“No, thank God,” she laughed. “Just some small wounds. I’m good, though. Better now that I have coffee.”

“Good,” Dex replied. “I don’t want to hold you up if you’ve got work to do. I’ll come by later to say hello.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she smiled at him. Dex held her eye contact for a bit longer before he smiled himself. He left her office, closing the door gently. 

Dex was good at picking up on smaller details—seeing things other people may have missed. But when he walked out of her office, he missed the jealous eyes that were watching him carefully from across the room.

◎◎◎

A few hours had passed in the day, and she was still in her office, focused on the paperwork in front of her. From where Dex was sitting, he could see her at her desk. His eyes glazed over her and back to his screen, where he really should’ve been paying attention. 

Except, he hasn’t been able to focus on anything all day. Their conversation from this morning was stuck in his head like a song. Better now that I have coffee. I’ll be waiting. 

Debate was stuck in his mind too about the gala. He imagined himself wearing a tuxedo. What color dress would she wear? Dex imagined picking her up and protectively holding her in his arms the entire night. He knew what some of the other agents thought about the women in the office—if he made it clear that she was his, he’d dare them to say anything disrespectful about her. Would she want to dance?

Nadeem had encouraged him to go the gala, and the problem with encouraging Dex to do something out of his comfort zone was he’d sit on the thought for hours, days, however long it took for him to convince himself it was a bad idea. But this time, Dex really hoped for a different outcome. 

“You have to let someone in,” Dr. Mercer once said to him. “Develop a natural connection.”

Could she be that person?

All he had to do was go to the gala. And before Dex knew it, he was on his way to telling her himself. 

Until a large block of a person turns a corner and stands right in front of Dex, stopping him in his tracks. Beckett.

Dex takes a deep breath and straightens his back. 

“You’re in my way,” Dex says as casually as he can.

“In your way for what? So you can distract __ from work? Or you can fake an injury on your leg and she’ll take off—“

“What the hell is your problem?” Dex cuts him off, unaware of the other members in the office now looking at him and Beckett. Beckett takes a step forward as Dex takes a step back.

“You piss me off, Poindexter,” Beckett spits. He’s turned into such a giant bully with no hand-eye coordination. Threatened by Dex for whatever reason. 

“Step away,” Dex says in a controlled breath. It won’t look good if Dex is reactive to how aggressive Beckett is being right now. One of them is going to be suspended and it’s not going to be Dex. He has to play his cards right—and provoke Beckett. 

“Or what?” Beckett taunts, taking another step while Dex backs away slowly. “Why don’t you use some of that lethal force everyone complains about you and use it on me?”

“Stop it,” Dex remains in control with every labored breath he takes. “Step away, Beckett.”

“I saw you in her office this morning,” his voice is getting louder. “You’re not fooling anyone, pretending to be a nice guy.”

“Maybe this has nothing to do with her,” Dex stated, “and it all has to do with you not being able to stand the reality that maybe she just doesn’t care about you. At all. And you should stop bothering her.”

And like a bright flash of light, Dex’s right cheek is hit with Beckett’s fist, sending him to the floor. His side is met with the tip of his boot and Dex clutches himself in pain. 

Perfect.

“What the hell?! Someone grab him!” Hattley appears from behind as a few agents take Beckett by the shoulders and throw him on the ground. “Agent, what the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Me?” Beckett roars. “What the hell is wrong with him—“

“The conference room” Hattley looks at the agents who are holding Beckett back. “And lock it behind you until I get there.”

Dex sits himself up on his elbows, breathless from the impact and quickness of it all. Nadeem kneels by his side and helps him.

“My goodness,” Nadeem says under his breath, helping Dex stand up. “Well if anything’s going to happen now, I can assure you Beckett won’t be a problem anymore and your name is cleared in the office.” 

◎◎◎

Well, her day certainly went from boring to occupied quickly. 

She didn’t hear much of the commotion from her desk, but she quickly noticed everyone’s attention from outside her office focusing on something that was happening a few feet from her door. When she heard Beckett’s voice from outside getting louder, she knew it had to be Dex he was talking to. And before she could leave her office to see, it was too late—Dex was already wounded on the floor. 

And now here he was, sitting in her office, like a rained-soaked puppy. He held an ice pack to his cheek and clutched his side. She was rattling through her drawers to find the proper tools. Stethoscope, light, healing gel and bandages.

She turned around and walked to Dex again, avoiding eye contact. For some reason, she felt embarrassed. Shy. Or maybe she was trying her best to hide how much she actually cared about this man who sat wounded on her exam table. 

“I’m sorry, Dex,” she said quietly as she took his hand that held the ice pack away from his face. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was she was sorry about. 

“Don’t be,” Dex said. “I’ve had worse.”

She held the light to his already large forming bruise. Luckily, no skin was split open, meaning no stitches were needed. She squeezed a little of the gel on her fingertips and began to dab at the bruise. Dex shut his eyes—the bruise stung when touched. He tried to hide how painful it actually was. 

“Well, I heard Beckett was officially suspended until further notice. You can’t attack another agent like that. It’s against policy, like one of the worst rules you can break.”

“That’s good,” Dex offered.

“And whatever he’s been saying about you, hopefully, this clears things up that it was him all along who was the problem. I never believed it was you, for the record. You're a good person,” she said. 

He averted his eyes when she said the word good. “I didn’t care about all that,” Dex replied. “I was on my way to your office. I knew he was just trying to get to me through—“

“What even was it he attacked you for?” She cuts him off accidentally. “I can’t understand why.”

Dex sighed. You, he wanted to say. 

“The same reason he was on Hattley’s radar after the bar that one night.”

“What, for saying things about the women here again? But what does that—“

Oh, she realized. 

Perhaps it wasn’t just about all the women in the office—maybe in particular for Dex’s case, it was her he was saying crude things about. She didn’t even want to know what specifically was said, but she had a good idea in her mind. 

“Yeah,” Dex nodded, noticing her realization. “When he said something about you at the bar… I didn’t like it. I grazed a dart by his head. He didn’t like that. That’s why we were all pulled in that one day. Add you turning him down for the gala, and… as he described it… me distracting you from work… guess it really pissed him off.”

“Huh,” she said, taking in his words, which may have been the most Dex had ever spoken to her. “Interesting.” 

“I’m sorry it had to do with you,” Dex said. “This whole thing.” 

“It’s okay,” she answered. “At least he’s gone for now. And your name is cleared.”

“Right.”

She held his dark eyes for a moment and then realized he was still clutching his side in pain. 

“Oh,” she said, “let me look at your ribs real quick. Do you mind if I…”

“No,” Dex shook his head, avoiding eye contact, a light blush on his face. “Do what you need to.”

She slowly, and slightly shakily, lifted his shirt just up to his chest. She tried her best to hide the blush on her face, and more so tried to avoid looking at his defined abs, to focus on his ribs. There was a bruise formed on his left side. She has to touch it to make sure nothing’s broken. 

“I have to touch you,” she says quietly. 

“Do what you need to,” he repeats in a low voice, avoiding her eyes. 

She gently traces his skin where the bruise formed lightly. Goosebumps form on his skin. 

“Does it hurt to breathe at all?”

“No,” he shakes his head. 

She puts more pressure on the bruise to feel his ribs, and Dex holds his breath. 

“Breathe, Dex,” she reminds him. He lets it out softly and finally looks at her. She’s unsure of what to make of his expression. It’s intense. And this suddenly feels more than just her making sure he’s not badly hurt. But he doesn’t mind it. Neither does she. The look he gives her makes her heart feel like it’s in his hands. 

She looks away, feeling his ribs more.

“Nothing’s broken,” she pulls his shirt down and avoids his eyes who follow her as she walks across the room. It suddenly felt hot. When she returned to his side, the intense look was still on his face. He averted his eyes from her gaze, jaw clenched. 

“I would take it easy. No crazy missions for two weeks. Keep icing your bruises and try to sleep on your back,” she said quickly. Dex nodded. He slowly slid off the exam table and stood in front of her. She looked up at him and then looked at her windows. The blinds were always shut when there was someone in her room. 

“Thank you for defending me,” she says after a moment of silence, locking eyes with him. Dex’s features softened. 

“No need to thank me,” he tells her. 

Dex looks in the direction of her windows too. Mirroring her movements. But what was it they needed to hide? 

Something compels Dex to move the strands of hair that fell over her eyes. He tucks them behind her ear and holds her face in his hands. She places her hand on top of his and holds him there for a moment. 

Nothing happens. Dex takes a long look at her features.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. He pulls his hand back and goes to the door. But before he can leave, she asks him a question. 

“What were you on your way to my office for, anyway?”

Dex pauses, hand on the doorknob. The gala. But something stops him from telling her the truth. 

“I wanted to say hello like I said I would earlier.” 

Turning the knob, he leaves her in her exam room alone, full of that same feeling of regret. 

Whatever it was they felt for each other, it was certainly undeniable for both of them now. 

[dameronscopilot]

dee wud it be too much to ask if u cud write a small drabble of benny doing unspeakable things to me with the gloves he had on in the movie? just,,, something about him wearing them,,,,

GOOD LORD IMAGINE BEING TIED UP AND BLINDFOLDED AND HE TEASES YOU WITH THEM

Keep the Gloves On

Benjamin "Benny" Miller x f!reader

Summary: You want to explore a new kink. Benny's happy to oblige.

Word Count: 750+

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, blindfond, bondage, glove kink, masturbation, fingering, anal play, squirting, choking kink, oral fixation

If there’s one thing Benny Miller will never say no to, it’s the opportunity to indulge when you tentatively mention wanting to explore a kink. 

It’s how you ended up here—shivering with anticipation, spread out naked atop your bed, your wrists tied snugly to the headboard, your vision obscured by the silk sleep mask covering your eyes.

You have half a mind to be slightly embarrassed by the amount of arousal that’s already gathered between your legs and wetly dripping onto the sheets. But it’s worth it to hear the subtle hitch in Benny’s breath when the mattress dips under his weight as he climbs toward you, gazing at your eager cunt.

And the moment he first makes contact with your skin, spreading your thighs further apart, you can’t help the way your back arches as excitement crawls up your spine at the feeling of what you’d asked him for—the gloves.

You’ve always had a certain fixation with Benny’s large, callused hands—the way they stretch your holes open, the way they press into your body, the way he wraps them around your throat. 

But recently, you found a pair of black leather gloves while sorting through his old tactical gear, and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about them.

Benny loved the idea, naturally. 

But as he slips his hands beneath you and grasps the globes of your ass, you arch your toes, firmly pressing your head back against the pillow as you wonder how the fuck you’re going to last. While the restraints and blindfold sounded like something sexy and fun to pair with this in theory, in reality, the combination has your senses so on edge, you’re already gasping with desperation. 

He slides his hands up your sides, and the foreign feeling of the cool material dragging across your skin drags a needy, shameless whine from your throat. 

Benny chuckles warmly, “You like this, honey?” 

And you try to respond, you really do, but all you can offer him is a wanton moan when he begins to palm at your breasts, your nipples stiff and sensitive as he rolls them between the pads of his gloved fingers. 

Benny brings one hand to your neck, caressing your throat and squeezing before running his thumb along the curve of your jaw. Instinctually, you turn your head into his touch, your jaw slack, and he presses two gloved fingers into your mouth. 

You gag a little at first, not yet used to the feeling of the excess material between your lips, but you soon find a rhythm sucking on his leather clad digits.

“Oh fuck,” Benny groans from above you, and you know he’s reaching into his own pants right now at sight of you moaning and writhing while he finger fucks your mouth, drool running down the side of the glove.

You could come like this, tied up and blindfolded, sloppily bobbing on Benny’s fingers, listening to his surprised grunt of pleasure as he wraps his other gloved hand around his cock, revelling in the feeling of the material stroking against his shaft. 

But he’s not done with you. Not yet.

First—

You’re not prepared for the shout that falls from your lips as Benny finally slides two spit-soaked, gloved fingers into your cunt. It feels so fucking good, damp tears begin to soak the silk material pressed against your eyes. 

“More,” is all you can get out between sobs of pleasure, and Benny quickly obliges, stretching you open with a third digit.

“Holy shit, baby,” Benny breathes out, voice hoarse as he watches you begin to fuck yourself on his fingers.

He hastily shoves off the mask covering your face, his eyes wide, lips slightly parted as he stares down at you in wonder before leaning down to kiss you hard.

When Benny pulls away, you watch as he places the forefinger of his free hand into his mouth, coating the leather with his own saliva. And when he reaches around to tease at the tight ring of muscle between your cheeks, the feeling of the tip of his gloved finger slipping into your ass while he arches his fingers inside of your aching pussy sends you hurtling over the edge. Clear liquid gushes from your cunt as you come, your vision going hazy with the force of your orgasm as it washes over your trembling limbs.

“Keep the gloves on,” you pant out to Benny as he climbs on top of you a moment later, his throbbing, leaking cock hanging heavily between his legs.

[pleasuretrade]

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

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

March x Healy

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

Rating: 18+ for the eventual porn

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

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

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

“March, did you write that down?”

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

“Benjamin Larry Hooper. We called him Benny.”

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

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

 Holland wrote in big block letters: DOB 1953 TALL

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, puce carpet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What—what, you see something?”

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

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

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

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