#mr ben x ofc

[ladamedusoif]

Visiting - Chapter 12: If I Must Have A Future

(moodboard by @agentjackdaniels)

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Chapter summary: Spring break comes to Barrow, and with it a European trip with major consequences for Ben and Lydia.

Word count: ~18k words (I'm so sorry but HEY LOOK THEY'RE BACK!)

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Warnings (chapter specific): Smut; quite a lot of smut really; oral sex (M and F receiving); unprotected but safe PiV sex; fingering; praise kink; very mild submission kink if you squint; self-esteem and body/weight insecurity; anxiety; angst; family dynamics; strong language; alcohol consumption; references to past instances of emotional abuse; fluff

A/N: Oh, boy. This was a labour of love. An incredibly important part of their story, and one that took me ages to get ‘right’. This is not the end of Visiting - I’m planning about three more chapters, which will not be as long as this one. So there is still more to come from Ben and Lydia.

I wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who was so kind and excited about the little Christmas one-shots I wrote for this pair - sometimes I feel like my dorks are the last kind of characters people want in this fandom, and it was lovely to see that they have readers who actually care (and even miss them!). Thank you too to everyone who voted in the poll about the chapter length. You wanted the full-on 18,000 words - you’re getting it.

And a special word for @agentjackdaniels, who screamed with me when we got one of the most Benergetic red carpet looks I’ve ever seen at the Emmys, who made my gorgeous new header image, and who has helped me see more times than I’d care to admit over the last few months that I matter and make a difference, especially around here. I hope I have done the same, too.

See the Series Masterlist for an outline of Lydia’s story and background.

Chapter 11 - Chapter 13

Cross-posting to AO3 (and if you’re reading on there, too, and yelling along in the comments, love you!)

Further A/N at the end of the chapter.

The title of this chapter is a line from the Fontaines DC song “I Love You”, which is not terribly romantic, all told, but I heard it over the holidays and this lyric hit me hard: If I must have a future/I want it with you.

Taglist: FYI I’m retiring taglists as they are giving me so much trouble with people not getting notifications - follow me on @ladameecrit and turn on notifications. But just in case: @agentjackdaniels, @tessa-quayle , @vermillionwinter , @iamskyereads , @tieronecrush, @perennialdoll247 , @love-the-abyss, @javierisms, @fuckyeahdindjarin , @littlemisspascal , @khindahra , @pedrostories , @readingiskeepingmegoing , @rhoorl , @red-red-rogue , @princessanglophile , @katareyoudrilling @survivingandenduring , @trulybetty @fictionismyreality @sunnywithachanceofjavi , @joeldjarin , @lahoozaherr, @s-u-t, @its-nebuleuse

“We will shortly be beginning our descent. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”

You have never been one for sleeping on planes. Ben, on the other hand, has been snoozing away for the last two hours, the thin airline blanket comically small on his broad frame. 

You put a hand on his arm to gently rouse him. “Love? We’re almost there.” 

He blinks awake, eyes sleepy and hair askew, and stretches out his arms. “Mmmmfff. Hi, Lyd. You excited?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m really looking forward to seeing them.” 

You’d mentioned the trip shortly after Valentine’s, during a conversation after dinner about plans for the spring break. 

Your spring visit home had been booked since well before Christmas. A few days at home, visiting your family and catching up, and then to Paris for a week of tying up loose research ends and some vacation time. 

It sounded blissful at the time. Now, your anticipation was tempered with disappointment at the prospect of leaving him here. 

“So, uh, what are you doing for spring break, love? You going west, or…”

He shrugs. “Ordinarily I’d try to get a few days in San Francisco. But everyone’s got plans and is out of town on various trips, so there’s no point.” He looks a little resigned. “So it’s time catching up on work and my reading here, I guess. Maybe do some prep for directing the student play after the vacation. When are you back from your trip?”

There’s a nervous knot in your stomach. Just ask. Just do it. 

“Could you take your reading and directing prep on the road?”

He looks perplexed. You take a deep breath. 

“What if you came with me?” 

Ben’s eyes widen. “Come with you? To see your family?”

Oh, fuck. You’ve pushed your luck. This is too weird. 

“No, don’t worry about it.” You stand up from the table and pick up your plates. “I just knew I’d miss you but it’s probably too much. It’s fine. Forget I said it.”

He follows you into your tiny kitchen and leans against the doorframe. “What if I wanted to come?”

“Wanted? I mean, you seemed totally stunned that I’d even ask.”

He shakes his head and smiles gently. “Not stunned, as such. Surprised, maybe? But not in a bad way.”

“Why surprised, then?” You cross the small linoleum floor and wrap your arms around his waist. He blushes, tucking his chin against his chest bashfully. 

“I dunno. Just that you want to bring me home with you? It… it means a lot to me.”

“It means a lot to me just to ask you, love. But you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

He looks at you with those big dark eyes and you feel your heart swell. “But I think I’d like to. As long as that’s okay with your family, of course? I don’t want to be in the way.”

You laugh and raise your eyebrows. “In the way? I think they’d be more excited about seeing you than me.” You rest your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “You know they think you’re great, you’ve been on the video calls. My mother asks me more about you than she does about myself.”

He wraps an arm around you and kisses the top of your head. “It’s different in person, sometimes.”

You shake your head. “Mmmm, I don’t think so in this case. You haven’t been dealing with daily queries about the welfare and wellbeing of Ben Morales. And no, she doesn’t yet seem to realise she can just call you by your first name.”

He chuckles and holds you closer. “Guess I’d better go book some flights, huh?”

Ben pushes the luggage cart towards the sliding doors and out into the bright, bustling Arrivals area, where families wait excitedly at the barrier to greet their loved ones. 

“LYDIAAAAAAAA!” 

You immediately spot your parents, standing right in the centre of the barrier, aligned with the sliding doors. It’s still very early in the morning and you wonder how long they’ve been here, waiting at the perfect spot to see the two of you emerge. 

You give Ben’s arm a reassuring squeeze as the two of you walk towards your excited family. “You’re not a stranger, love. They already love you. Remember that.”

Ben has barely exited the arrivals area when he’s enveloped in a warm embrace by your mother, who seems to have forgotten you entirely. Your father puts an arm around you and smiles widely while your mother coos over Ben. “And Ben Morales! Welcome, welcome. We’re so delighted to have you.”

Your mother has had her hair done and is dressed in an outfit that feels somewhere between “weekday lunch at a nice restaurant” and “Sunday best”. She’s also using what you and Kate refer to as her “telephone voice” when she speaks to Ben, more clipped and flatter than her usual tones. 

“Mom, he knows what you sound like normally, you don’t need to put on the fancy accent.” You hug your father tightly and notice that his eyes are shining. He’s similarly neatly dressed, wearing a nice smart-casual pair of pants and a matching shirt and v-neck light sweater. 

“I am talking normally!” your mother fires back, followed by a tinkly laugh as she tilts her head and smiles at Ben. He smiles broadly, though you know he’s shattered, and your mother gives you a look that says “See? Ben likes me.”

Your father shakes Ben’s hand before embracing him. “The two of you must be exhausted,” he says, arm still wrapped around Ben’s shoulders. “Let’s head to the car.”

Ben and your dad lead the way, your mother reaching for your hand and giving it a warm squeeze as you walk companionably a few steps behind. 

“Welcome home, pet. I’m delighted he’s here too. We’re so happy for you.” She looks ahead and appraises Ben’s broad frame as he pushes the luggage cart and chats to your father. 

“Grand big man, isn’t he?”, she says approvingly. “Don’t look at me like that, Lydia!”

“There’s milk there and bread and tea and coffee and a few biscuits and butter and a couple of bags of crisps and -“

“Mom, we’re fine. We’ll take care of ourselves. Okay?”

Your mother throws up her hands in resignation. “Alright! Just wanted to make sure you didn’t starve.” 

Kate, Marc, and their little girls have taken over your parents’ house for the duration of renovation works on their own home, and in the interests of space (and your sanity) you’d booked a small holiday flat in your hometown for the visit. Now, with Ben in tow, the privacy of the flat was even more welcome. 

“Thank you. I mean it. Now, can we please go and get some rest?” You hug her tightly and she kisses your cheek, before looking in Ben’s direction. 

“Of course. We’ll see you later, though? For something to eat? Kate and Marc and the girls are that excited to see you, I think they might burst.”

You stand beside Ben, bringing your hand to the small of his back, and wave your parents off as they return to the car. They’re not even out of earshot when you hear your father saying “He wouldn’t let her lift a single bag! Not one! Helped her all the time. Lovely chap. Very nice. Far cry from the other fucker…”

Subtlety has never been their strong point. You just hope Ben is too jet-lagged to have heard what they said.

A relaxed family meal, she said. Nothing special, she said. Come over in the early afternoon. It’s just like a Sunday lunch, she said. 

Your mother is reading Ben a list of menu options that’s longer than in some restaurants. His eyebrows rise and fall as he takes it in and considers the possibilities.

“Honestly, Mrs -“

“MARIE. I told you.”

“Honestly, Marie, I’ll just have whatever everyone else is having. It all sounds great. Do you need any help in the kitchen?”

“I most certainly do not. You can have whatever you want. You are the guest.” 

“Seriously. Whatever’s easiest.” He looks nervously at you and speaks in a low voice. “What is easiest?” 

You shrug. “Probably the beef.”

He beams at your mother and tells her he’ll have some beef. She tilts her head, smiles delightedly at him, and does that tinkly laugh again before returning to the kitchen. 

The meal is delicious but, inevitably, chaotic. Your three-year-old niece Cora, who had insisted on sitting between you and Ben (Benjamoo, as she persisted in calling him), realises quickly that the family-style service meant she could help herself to her favourite sides as and when she wanted, chubby little hands rapidly making a mark on the mashed potato and carrots. Your mother keeps asking if the food is hot enough. Kate and Marc try to talk to Ben while corralling little Evie and making sure she gets fed. 

Your father, meanwhile, veers between talking delightedly to the little girls and engaging Ben in a rapidly-shifting conversation that covers San Francisco, transatlantic flights, whether Ben liked sports, and a detailed description of the plot of a film he’d watched the week before. You couldn’t work out which film it was, but you knew it had Kevin Costner in it. Mostly because your dad kept referring to him as “Kevin Costner”, rather than by the character’s name. 

You rest a hand on Ben’s knee, under the solid dining table your father had made for the family home when you were barely two. 

“You doing okay? I know we’re a bit much…”

His warm hand covers yours and he smiles softly. 

“I’m great, Lyd. And you haven’t been to a Morales family meal yet - now that’s a bit much. Just you wait and see.”

You grin and lean your head affectionately on his shoulder for a moment, winding your fingers through his, never noticing the conspiratorial, knowing look exchanged between Kate and your mother. 

You and Ben insist on clearing the dishes, making short work of loading the dishwasher before your parents can tell you off for letting the guest do the chores. Through the kitchen window you see Cora running towards her little plastic play house, on temporary loan to your parents’ back garden while Kate and Marc’s building work is being completed. Kate follows swiftly behind, waving a soft fleece jacket at her daughter.

After wrangling Cora into her jacket, she appears at the back door. “Cora wants to know if Ben can come and visit her tea shop. Not you, Lyd. She was very clear about that. Only Benjamoo.”

He smiles happily and puts down his dish towel, before making a sympathetic face at you and kissing your cheek. “Sorry, Lyddie. I guess I better take up my invitation.” 

It’s a hilarious and adorable sight: Ben, sitting cross-legged on the mat beside Cora’s house, hair a bit messy and eyes still a little tired behind his glasses, broad-shouldered in his grey Berkeley sweatshirt and decidedly out of proportion to the pink-and-white plastic cottage. You can hear him giving Cora his order and talking rapturously about the “tea” she serves him in a little pink cup, while she giggles and claps her hands. 

Marc and your father arrive in the kitchen, your brother-in-law carrying little Evie in his arms. “Evie thinks she’s missing out on the fun with Ben and Cora,” he announces, opening the back door. “And we want to make sure Cora doesn’t try to force-feed mud cakes to your boyfriend.”

You’d been so nervous about this - not because you thought your family wouldn’t like Ben, or vice versa, but because by definition the first visit to your partner’s family feels a little like an audition of some kind. It has the potential to go horribly wrong, no matter how well prepared you are, or how many video calls you’ve had over the last couple of months.

But here he is, now, integrated happily into your close-knit family of origin, getting on famously with your parents, sister, and brother-in-law, and making your beloved little niece laugh like a drain as he pretends to drink from her toy teapot. Like he was always here. Or always meant to be here.

There’s a surge of emotions in your chest: deep love and affection, above all, but with it a reminder that your future together is by no means assured. Assuming, of course, that he wants a future together. 

“He’s good with kids, isn’t he?” 

Kate’s voice startles you. “Where did you come out of?”

“I’m stealthy when I want, Lyd. Anyway, you haven’t answered my question.”

You throw a bombastic side eye in your younger sister’s direction. “I know what you’re getting at.”

Kate shrugs, the picture of innocence. “I’m just observing.”

“Ben is a wonderful uncle. Just as I am a wonderful aunt. We like that. And that’s one of the things I love about him.” You lean on the kitchen counter, voice quieter. “So…what do you think?”

Kate arches an eyebrow in your direction. Your mother arrives in the kitchen with impeccable timing, as ever. 

“What do I think of what?”

“You know what. Who. Him. Ben.”

Your mother laughs as she fills the kettle with water and puts it on to boil for some teas and coffees. She turns round to face her two daughters. “Well, Kate, I don’t know about you, but - he wouldn’t be for me.”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

Kate opens a cupboard and starts to take out some mugs. “I know what you mean, mom. Not really for me, either.”

“You know yourself, Kate,” your mother adds, finding a carton of milk in the fridge and filling a small milk jug, “Just not my thing at all.”

Anger spreads hot and warm across your face. “Good, because he’s not your fucking ‘thing’, he’s my thing and I can’t believe how two-faced you’re being. All sweetness and light and then saying he’s not really for you and -”

Your mother holds out a hand, expression deadpan. “Lydia, not everyone wants a man who’s kind and funny and genuine and clearly worships the ground his girlfriend walks on.”

“Exactly,” Kate chimes in. “Just because you love someone who’s really smart and nice and good with kids and is actually kind of cute in a dorky way doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”

For a moment, your confusion and anger doesn’t quite let you hear what they’re saying. “I’m not asking you to be in love with him, I’m just - oh. Oh.”

Marie and Kate burst out laughing. 

“Well, fuck the two of you. Forty-two years and you’re still winding me up.”

Your mother wraps you in a warm cuddle. “Ah, poor Lyd. We’re sorry. We just couldn’t resist.”

“He’s so lovely, Lyd,” Kate adds, embracing you from behind. “I mean it. Marc thinks so, too. I know I said at Christmas that he looked like he’d been engineered in a lab for you and it looks like I was right. And Ben’s even cuter in the flesh, not that I notice such things.” She coughs for dramatic effect. “What with being a married mother of two.”

“And he loves the bones of you, darling girl,” your mother whispers. “And sure, why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know about you, love, but I’m shattered.” 

Ben glances over at you and wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing you in to nuzzle against his chest. He holds up his copy of the script for Samuel Beckett’s Endgame, multicoloured tabs fluttering like tiny flags. 

“I’m just going to work through one more scene, is that okay?”

You hum contentedly. “Of course, love. How’s it going, anyway?”

He flicks through a few pages, scanning his notes and annotations. The comparative literature students put on a play every year, towards the end of the second semester, and Ben had to step in at short notice as director after a colleague in French fell ill. “It’s a relief we’re doing it in the English translation, put it that way. I just don’t know why Jen thought I could take this on, after Michèle went on sick leave.” 

You idly rub his tummy and kiss his side through his old shirt. “Because she knows you’re great and talented and the students love you, Mr Director.”

He huffs a laugh, marks up another section, adds a tab, and closes the book before taking off his glasses and shuffling down the bed and wrapping his free arm around you. He kisses the top of your head and holds you tight. 

“Thank you for bringing me home with you.”

You open your eyes and glance up at him. “Sure they haven’t put you off?”

“It would take a lot to put me off, Lyd. Anyway, they’re great. It - it meant a lot, to be welcomed like that, by the people you love.”

He looks down at you, and you place a light kiss on his jaw, smiling at the bristle of his beard against your lips. His gaze is solemn and intense as he reaches for your hand.

“I’m serious about this, Lyd. About us. You know?”

“I know. I’m serious about us, too. Deadly serious, in fact.”

He smiles, eyes shining, and kisses you, soft and slow, pulling you closer and working a path of kisses down the side of your neck as your body writhes against his. Tiredness is forgotten, for the moment, as you slip your hand inside the waistband of his loose boxers and tug them down, fingers wrapping around his cock. Ben sighs against your chest as you stroke him, his mouth finding your nipples as his long fingers trace the wetness building between your legs. With one leg hitched across his, you angle your hips just so and guide him inside you as he whispers your name against your ear. 

After you’ve made love, Ben falls asleep mid-cuddle, and you tuck yourself against him and close your eyes. But sleep doesn’t come easy. You should be delighted, after the beautiful day you’d had. But there’s an anxiety building in the back of your mind that you can’t quite shake. 

Serious this relationship may be, but spring will soon turn to summer, and with it the prospect of being separated indefinitely by an entire ocean and several time zones. Kate was wont to remind you that you “could just do distance for a while”, and she meant well. It was intended to reassure you. 

The problem was, the more you thought about what that option would actually mean, the less comfort it provided.

Over the next couple of days, you introduce Ben to the world of your hometown, to the places and people that shaped you. It is strange, at first, to see him, whole and present, in the spaces that defined your childhood. But it is a beautifully intimate thing, sharing memories with someone you love. You lay yourself even more bare before them, revealing the you that was before they knew you. 

The two of you have, of course, shared so much about yourselves and your pasts with each other in the time since you met. But this was different. Walking with him, pointing out your old schools, old haunts, swapping memories and stories, introducing him to random relations you meet in the streets: you are quietly knotting the strands of your past - with all its love, loss, joy and sorrow - with the man who, you hope, represents your future. 

Kate and Marc insist on bringing you to dinner one night. “It’d be wrong not to,” Marc had explained as you sat in your parents’ living room, Ben playing peek-a-boo with Evie while your mother looked on approvingly. “Sure we have built-in babysitting while we’re staying with Joe and Marie.” 

Your mother’s expression shifted instantaneously, shooting daggers at your brother-in-law. “Cheeky.”

Your hometown is not known for haute cuisine, but Kate booked a table at the nicest restaurant in town and it has been a perfect evening: good food, decent wine, and the pleasure of seeing how well Ben, Kate, and Marc are getting along. You and Kate go to the bathroom at one point, and she eyeballs you as you top up your lipstick, side by side, in the mirror. 

“Think he’s passed the audition, Lyd.” She pouts and blows a kiss at her reflection. “Oh, and guess what? We’ve got a special immersive cultural experience planned for the rest of the night.”

You swivel and glare at her. “And what does that involve, exactly?”

Kate picks up her handbag and does a little shimmy on the spot. “The Roxy, Lyd. The ultimate method of integrating your lovely Benjamin into your native place.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

The Roxy was once the town’s cinema, built in the 1940s and made redundant by the coming of the multiplex in the 1990s. Its owners had moved swiftly, though, and transformed the Roxy into a nightclub. It was a site of memorable nights out dancing with your friends, of crying in the bathrooms when you realised your crush was interested in someone else, of bad kissing, of telling random men to fuck off when they told you to smile, of screaming with glee when “Hey Ya” came on.

 If the Roxy was a taste, it would be peach schnapps and orange squash. Its smell, meanwhile, had lodged permanently in your memory: old cigarettes, sticky carpets, cheap aftershave, vanilla musk body spray. 

She was not kidding. You and Kate sit on some banquette seating in a corner of the Roxy’s lounge - which was just a separate floor with slightly better, more old-school music - and take in the completely incongruous sight of Ben, followed by Marc, weaving his way through the habitual crowd of locals with your drinks in hand. 

“Vodka tonic for Lyddie, gin and tonic for Kate.” Ben places the glasses on the table and nestles in beside you, giving your thigh a little squeeze. He reaches for his bottle of beer and raises it slightly. “Uh, cheers, I guess?”

Kate enthusiastically clinks her swimming pool-sized glass of gin and tonic off Ben’s drink. “Cheers! Now, you have to promise me you’ll dance. Otherwise it’s not full assimilation.”

You groan audibly and stir your drink with the straw as Ben chuckles. “C’mon, Lyd, you’ve got moves.” He raises an eyebrow at you mischievously. 

You manage to stave off the inevitable for a while, finishing your first vodka tonic and about to suggest you go to the bar when a familiar opening melody sends Kate leaping out of her seat, excitedly grabbing her husband and beckoning to you. 

“AS IT WAS?!? COME OOOONNNN LYYYYD!” Kate bellows back to you and Ben from the tiny dancefloor, where Marc is already showing off a move you can only describe as “rhythmic shuffling” while mouthing Harry Styles’ lyrics.

You look at Ben. He stands, removes his jacket, and offers you his hand, smiling expectantly. His hand rests gently on the small of your back as you join your sister and brother-in-law on the dancefloor, and he pulls you in to whisper in your ear. 

“We can do better than them, can’t we?”

You laugh, leaning in as he wraps an arm around your waist, takes your hand, and helps you exorcise all those demons of heartbreak long past on the dancefloor. 

As she clambers into a taxi in the early hours of the morning, Kate turns and yells “I’m telling mom you’re bringing a boy home with you from the Roxy!”, before collapsing in hysterics as Marc takes her hand and pulls her into the car. They grin and wave at you and Ben as it disappears up the street and back towards your parents’ house.

You lean against Ben as you walk back towards the little flat you’d rented for your stay at home, sighing contentedly as he drapes an arm around your shoulders. 

“She’s right, though,” you giggle, “I’m actually bringing the hot boy home with me from the Roxy. I’ve come a long way from endless rejection and the odd bit of bad kissing.”

Ben huffs a laugh as you open the main door of the building and climb the stairs to the apartment. “Well, fuckin’ good.” He adds a sassy little head movement for emphasis. 

“Excuse me?”

“Fuckin’ good. Because what would have happened to me if you’d been swept off your feet by one of those bad kissing boys back then?” He follows you into the little entrance hall and, for all his joking tone, there’s a vulnerability lurking in his beautiful eyes.

You cradle his face in your hands. “I’d have found you one way or another, Benjamin.” A coy smile crosses your lips as you take him in - danced out, hair mussed, and so stupidly sexy you still can’t quite believe he’s real. 

Your fingers hook inside his waistband as you pull him tight to you, leading him into the living room and pushing him against the wall as you bring a hand to his crotch. “And I’d like to make the most of bringing the hottest man home from the club for once in my life, if you don’t mind. Especially seeing as he was worth the wait.”

Ben’s eyes widen and he half gasps, half chuckles as you undo his jeans and slip a hand inside his boxers, stroking his cock as you pepper his throat with tiny kisses. He leans down slightly to bring a hand under the skirt of your dress, hitching up the fabric and slipping two fingers into your panties to play with your clit as he kisses you: hungry, urgent, wanting. 

But you’ve had something else on your mind all night. You break the kiss and begin to sink to your knees, hands around Ben’s waist for balance. 

Your eyes flit up to meet his. “Let me make you feel good, darling.”

His breath hitches as he takes you in: hair a little messy, eyes wide and wild, lips slightly parted, the soft flesh of your tits rising and falling with your breathing. 

“Fuck, Lyd, you’re amazing.”

“That a yes?”

He swallows hard and nods rapidly. “Fuck. Yes. Yes. Please.”

You lick your lips and smile as you carefully tug down the waistband of his boxer briefs. Your mouth presses into the softest, most sensitive parts of him: a kiss, a lick, a little nip to his belly; a course plotted down from his abdomen to the hardening cock you hold in your hand. You take him into your mouth, tongue swirling gently over the tip as you stroke him, revelling in the sensation and the moans of pleasure you’re pulling from the gorgeous man above you. Ben rests his hand on the back of your head and leans back against the wall, panting harder as you find your rhythm. 

The ache between your thighs builds with his every grunt and groan. Your fingertips find your clit, rubbing little circles over it in a fruitless bid to find some relief. You ease his cock out of your mouth with a pop and Ben helps you to your feet before you take his hand and guide him to the couch.

You slip off your panties and encourage him to lie back on the sofa as you gather the skirt of your dress around your waist and straddle him. “Need to fuck you, my love.” 

He grips the flesh of your hips and thighs, fingers pressing into your body as you take him inside you and begin to ride him, relishing the slow drag of his cock as you come undone. He looks beautiful underneath you, eyes wide and shining as he watches every move of your body.

“Fuck, Lyd,” he pants, smiling up at you. “You look incredible.” He reaches up and pulls down your neckline, groping your breasts and gazing at you like you’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen: head thrown back, eyes closed, and vocal. 

He begins to thrust up into you, finding a rhythm that complements yours, intensifying the sensation so much that you can’t help but cry out with pleasure. 

“Yes, baby…fuck, that’s so fucking good, Ben, that’s fucking it, fuck!”

“Take it, Lyddie.” His dark eyes stare into yours, hands still gripping you firmly. “Ride me, take what you need…fuck, good fucking girl. I’ll give you whatever you need, whatever you want.”

And he knows what you need, in that moment. His thick fingers slip between your thighs and find your clit, circling it over and over as you keep on fucking him. 

You come hard, the last flutters of your orgasm still working through you when Ben follows suit. He’s still inside as you bend forward to kiss him, trailing your hands over his beautiful face and through his damp hair. You rest on his chest and let the sound of his breathing start to steady you as he holds you close for a couple of moments.

“I love you so much, Lyddie,” he pants quietly, chuckling to himself. “You’re a hell of a woman.”

For your last day, Ben suggests that he might make dinner at the flat, as a gesture of thanks for your family’s hospitality. You suggest lasagne with some sides as a general crowdpleaser, borrow some dishes from your mother, and Ben gets to work while you lay the place settings. 

The lasagne is cooking away happily when your mother arrives with Kate, Marc, and the girls. You look puzzled. 

“Where’s Dad?”

Your mother rolls her eyes as Cora goes tearing off around the flat, Kate following swiftly behind. “He insisted he had to go to the football match tonight. Of course. Anyway, he said he’ll be here shortly.”

Ben emerges from the kitchen, clad in a navy and white striped apron you’d used back when you (briefly) did home economics at school. He kisses your mother and Kate on the cheek and hugs Marc, before bending down to give a delighted Cora a high five. 

“I made you a present,” she says quietly, suddenly shy. 

Ben brings himself down to her level. “A present? For me? That’s amazing.”

Kate rummages in her bag and produces a rolled-up piece of paper, handing it to Ben. “She did it all herself. Mostly.”

You stand beside him as he unfurls it and Cora looks down at her toes. The drawing features a large figure with a mop of dark wavy hair and a wide smile - “Benjamoo”, Cora points out helpfully - standing close beside a slightly smaller figure immediately recognisable as you. “Auntie Lyd,” she adds seriously, in case you weren’t aware. 

The figures’ stick arms are touching. “Holding hands,” Cora says. 

Ben looks at Cora, then up at you, and back to the little girl. “This is the best art anyone’s ever given me. I’m going to put it on my wall when I get home.” He stands, and reaches for your hand, noticing the tears threatening in your eyes. “Auntie Lyd will help. Won’t you?”

You nod and squeeze his hand. Cora starts to giggle and points at you and Ben. 

“See? Holding hands.”

Ben and Marc pop out to the nearest supermarket shortly afterwards, when you realise you had neglected to buy garlic bread. You sit in the open-plan kitchen and dining area with your mother while Kate plays with her daughters in the living room. 

“You alright, love?” Marie notices how you fiddle with the place settings and rub your fingers together, sure signs that something’s on your mind. 

“Mmm? Sorry, I was miles away. Yeah, I’m… I think so.” You exhale. “I don’t know.”

Your mother gives you a little breathing room, waiting to see if you’ll open up more. 

“It’s just… fuck. I don’t know. I - what the fuck are we going to do?”

She sighs softly and pats the back of your hand. “You and Ben?” 

“Me and Ben. It’s spring break. And there’s no clear pathway about what we’ll do when my year in Barrow ends and I have to come back to my job over this side of the ocean.”

“Well, I mean… I know you hate the thoughts of it, Lyd, but have you talked about it? Kate’s right, you could always do long-distance for a while, until you knew what you both really wanted.”

You put your head in your hands. “We’ve said that we’re very serious about the relationship.” 

“So then! There’s your answer. No?”

You look up at her mournfully. “Yes and no. Yes, we’re serious about each other. No, that doesn’t mean we have any idea how to manage the distance.”

Marie adjusts the salt and pepper cruets in the middle of the table. “People do it, Lyd. It’s a commitment but they make it work.”

You nod slowly. “I just don’t know if that’s what I want, at this stage in my life. We see each other every day. We’re practically living together.”

Your mother fans herself in mock horror. “And not a hint of a ring on the finger, goodness!”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Forty-two, mother dear. But yeah. I don’t know if I could go from that to not seeing Ben for weeks or a month or more at a time. Not now.”

“So what does that mean?”

You swallow hard. “I don’t know. One of us moves. He moves for me. I move for him. But that means trying to find a permanent academic job and in both places that’s like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“And if there’s no job? Distance as a temporary measure?”

You bite your lip. “But what if that’s still too hard?”

“So move.”

“But that means him giving up his life for me, or me uprooting for him, and being so far from all of you and from here and…” You look up at your mother, feeling like a scared little girl again.

“I love him so much, Mom. I never thought I’d love anyone like that. Never thought I’d even meet someone like that. And for him to love me in return…fuck.”

Marie shifts closer and wraps her arm around your shoulders. “I know, love. I know. You love the bones of each other. And it’s real love. Everyone can see it.”

“What do we do?”

“Lydia, I can’t tell you what to do one way or the other. Only you know what’s right for the two of you.”

You lean your head on your mother’s shoulder and she gives your hand a squeeze. “I know. It’s just - fuck, why does it have to be hard? Don’t I deserve things to work out, for once?”

“You do, pet. Of course you do. No one deserves it more.”

“Sometimes it feels crazy, y’know? This time last year I didn’t know Ben existed, and now -”

“Now it’s like you’ve known each other forever? Like you can’t imagine life without him?”

You turn to face her, and smile. “Exactly.”

“That’s love for you.” Marie purses her lips, thinking. “I’m only going to say one more thing. Your happiness.”

“Huh?”

“Lyd, for years you prioritised someone else’s happiness over your own. I know, I know, that fucker moved for you when you got the job away, I know that. But apart from that…it was all you. All you, trying to keep someone else happy and cracking under the strain.” She inhales and exhales, trying to curb the fury that still burns in her when she remembers how you were treated. 

“All I’m going to say is this: don’t worry about anyone else, Lyd. Not me, not Dad, not Kate, Marc, the girls, your job - nobody. Well, worry about Ben. But above all, prioritise your happiness. We have ours over here. It’s time for you to find yours.”

You hug her tightly. “One final question.”

She nods and waits. 

“What does Dad think of Ben? I know it wouldn’t change my feelings but given everything from the shitshow, I’d like to know he doesn’t absolutely loathe him.”

She looks at her phone and pushes away from the table, walking into the living room and opening the door of the flat. “Ask him yourself, Lyd. Here he is now.”

Your father comes into the kitchen, talking about something that happened at the local football match he’d attended that afternoon and eyes already locked on the kettle, his mind focused on making a cup of tea. 

“Joe? Lyd wants to ask you something.”

You roll your eyes at your mother. “It’s not a big deal.”

He turns around, tea caddy in hand. He’s been to this flat twice, you think, and he knows exactly where all the tea-making equipment is kept. 

 “Alright. Ask away, Lyd. Are you alright? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I just - Dad, what do you think?”

“What do I think of what?”

“Ben. Me and Ben, specifically. But also just Ben.”

Joe switches on the kettle and leans against the kitchen counter. “Sure, my opinion isn’t what matters. What matters is how you feel. Isn’t that right?” He looks to your mother for backup. 

“I said that to her, but she said she wanted to hear from you.”

He takes a mug out of the cupboard and drops a square teabag into it. “Lydia, is everything okay? Are you having any doubts about him, is that it?”

You laugh and shake your head. “Not a one.”

“And you don’t think he’s having any doubts about you? Because if he is I’ll fucking -“

“No, Dad. He… he’s very clear about how he feels.”

Your father nods in satisfaction. “Well, that’s reassuring. Would be strange if he wasn’t, given how he is with you. At least, what we’ve seen here.” He pours the freshly boiled water over the teabag and opens the fridge in search of milk. “But the point stands. You love each other, don’t you?”

You aren’t sure if your father has ever been so open or explicit with you in asking about a romantic relationship. Perhaps, you wonder, he regretted not being more honest about his concerns over the years of your longest one. 

“We do.” Your eyes fill with tears, unexpectedly. You swallow hard. “We love each other very, very much.”

“Okay then.” He stirs his tea vigorously, the metal of the teaspoon clinking off the stoneware mug. 

“But I still want to know what you think. It matters to me. Especially - especially after the last time.”

Joe pulls out a chair and settles at the table, your mother reaching automatically for a coaster and sliding it under the mug. “Lyd, you know what I’ve always said. There’s not one person walking this earth who deserves our lovely Lydia. Not one.”

Your heart sinks a little, and you nod. You’ve heard this a lot since your ex cheated and fucked off. You never really believe it. 

“But.” Your father pauses and sips his tea. 

“But?”

He looks at you and reaches out to touch your hand. “But - that lovely man you brought home definitely comes very close indeed.”

Right on cue, the front door opens and you can hear Ben and Marc chatting companionably and laughing together. Marc does a silly little dance into the kitchen, waving the garlic bread around like glow sticks.

“Now, please don’t destroy the garlic bread before it’s even gone into the oven, Marc!”

As your mother grabs the bread and sneaks a peek at the lasagne, now browned to perfection, Ben pulls you in for a quiet word.

“Lyddie, are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”

You lean against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. “I’m okay, darling. I just needed this. Needed you.” The oven timer pings and you look at him. “Time for Professor Morales to serve us his delicious lasagne. C’mon, we can plate up before my mother takes over.”

You thought goodbyes would get easier the longer you worked away from home, but the opposite turned out to be true. Your parents are doing their usual brave face routine at the airport: Joe clearly trying not to cry, Marie overdoing the levity to distract you and stave off her own sadness at seeing you go. 

“Paris in the springtime, Lyd! It’ll be gorgeous. She’s a great tour guide, Ben, she knows it all.” 

“She’s brilliant, Marie. But you knew that before the rest of us found out.” He reaches for your hand, holding it tightly as you start to feel the tears prickling. 

He only lets go as you both embrace your parents in turn, Ben thanking them repeatedly for their kindness. Then, his fingers curl around yours again, holding you strong and steady at the entrance to departures. 

“I love you both so much, you know? We’re so grateful.”

Your mother can’t hold back her tears any more, and her wet cheek presses against yours as she pulls you in for a final hug. “We love you so much. Both of you.” 

She pulls away and holds your gaze. “Both of you. Remember what I said to you, Lydia. Remember that.”

You nod and give Ben’s hand a little squeeze. “We should probably head on through. Safe home - message me when you get back, okay? We’ll see you soon.”

You keep waving back with every sharp turn you take in the queue for security, until eventually your parents’ faces are obscured by the crowd behind you, and you face forward into the security area, still holding Ben’s hand.

“Paris par train ou Paris par bus?”

Ben shrugs as he pushes the luggage trolley. “You’re the expert, Lyddie. What’s easiest?”

You summon up the mental map of Parisian transport options that is always ticking over at the back of your mind. “Train is quicker but involves a change at Châtelet Les Halles - ugh - and then again at Bastille. Bus gets us to Opéra which means we can get right on to line 8.”

“Bus?”

“Bus.”

Ben stacks your bags carefully in one of the Roissybus’s luggage areas and exhales as he takes a seat beside you. “You know it’s been almost thirty years since I was in Paris?”

“Excusez-moi?”

He chuckles. “Came up on a very poorly-thought-out visit with some friends while I was on exchange in Málaga. Overnight trains, hostels, no money, cheap wine. I barely saw the Eiffel Tower, let alone anything else.”

The bus pulls out of Charles de Gaulle Airport and onto the motorway. You squeeze Ben’s thigh affectionately. “Isn’t it a good thing that you’ve come to Paris with a ready-made guide, then?”

He smirks and arches an eyebrow suggestively. “Oh, I’m really looking forward to doing some, er, exploring with her.” 

“Is that so?” You move your hand ever so slightly up his thigh, smiling with satisfaction as Ben gasps a little and shifts in the seat. “I always like to try out new pleasures here, you know?”

A wiggle of your eyebrows has you both giggling, leaning against each other as the bus makes good progress towards the périphérique, the motorway that rings the city, and into Paris proper. You start to point out landmarks, locations, shifting into a stream of consciousness that spans history, personal memories, places to visit, and random observations. 

Ben smiles to himself as he watches and listens, delighting in your joy and excitement as you prepare to see your old friend - to walk her streets, listen to her voice, and write another chapter in your long love story.

The advantage of Parisian connections: your friend Sophie offered you her apartment in the 11th arrondissement for the duration of your stay, as she was away in the south of France. You meet her upstairs neighbour outside the narrow, early nineteenth-century building on a quiet street just off the rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine and collect Sophie’s key, taking note of the door codes. 

“Holy shit. Look at this place!”

Ben has carried the bags up the stairs - thankfully, Sophie’s flat is on the first floor - and followed you into the little apartment. You turn and grin when you notice how entranced he looks, staring up at the wooden beams in the tiny hallway, peeking out into the communal courtyard, tilting his head this way and that to check out the books on Sophie’s shelves. 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” You pick up your suitcase and lead the way into the bedroom, sitting on the end of the bed as you take off your shoes and wriggle your toes happily.

“It’s incredible. Exactly what you might imagine a Parisian apartment to be.” He drops his own bags in the corner and joins you on the bed, flopping back onto the mattress and yawning.

You lie back and turn to face him, resting a hand on his stomach. “Let’s do some exploring. I know we’re tired, but I want to show you around, get some dinner, buy some wine…”

The featherlight touch of his fingers, working their way under your denim blouse and stroking the soft skin of your waist, sends delicious shivers through you.

“We could do some exploring here, right now…?” he asks, eyes twinkling and a smile on his lips. 

“You know how tempting that offer is, Benjamin, but let’s restore our energy first, hmmm?”

Dinner is Vietnamese food from a tiny restaurant just around the corner, a staple favourite from your time living in the city, followed by a walk around the neighbourhood and a stop at a nearby supermarket, to stock up on some essentials and a bottle of wine. As you climb the stairs to the apartment, the fatigue from a day of travel and the underlying, gnawing anxiety about your future starts to hit you. 

You should just say it to him. Ask him outright what he wants to happen.

You push the thought down, down, as deep as it will go as you settle on Sophie’s tiny sofa and watch Ben uncork the wine in the coin cuisine, the little kitchenette tucked into a corner of the living room. You spot a portable speaker tucked on one of the bookshelves and connect it to your phone, scrolling through your playlists until you find what you want. 

“Never let it be said that you don’t cultivate an atmosphere, Lyd,” he says, handing you a glass of the purple-red wine and joining you on the couch. “Let me guess: this is a Paris-specific playlist?”

You hide your face behind one hand and peek at him through your fingers as he laughs, leaning in to kiss your cheek as Serge Gainsbourg’s ‘La chanson de Prévert’ starts to play.

He rests his head on your shoulder as you listen to the song together. It’s a favourite of yours regardless, but tonight, with the man you love so deeply but still fear losing nestled in beside you, Gainbourg’s plaintive melody and lyrics about lost love are like a punch to the gut.

“Lyddie?”

Ben is sitting up, looking at you with concern. “You look so sad, all of a sudden - you okay?”

“It’s just the song, it’s so –” You halt yourself. No. Time to say it.

“I guess I’m just really feeling how close I am to the end of my time in Barrow, that’s all.”

His chocolate-brown eyes soften and he wraps you in a warm embrace. “Still got plenty of time, Lyddie.”

“And then?”

“And then…?”

“What happens? To us, I mean.”

He looks surprised at the question. “We’ll be okay, one way or the other. Right?”

But what does that mean?

You’re too tired to ask the question, you tell yourself. In truth, you’re too scared to - not because you fear his reaction, not at all. Rather, it’s because you fear that your concerns might upset him.

Ben’s head has barely hit the pillow before he’s sound asleep, one arm draped loosely around your waist. For you, though, sleep is elusive, arriving only as the dawn starts to break over the city of light. 

You wake, exhausted, to the aroma of fresh coffee brewing and the sound of Ben pottering around the apartment, humming the melody of “La chanson de Prévert” to himself. With a groan, you remember you’d planned to do some research today and force yourself out of bed.

“Bonjour, la belle Lyddie! Du café?” Ben waves a little espresso mug at you and you nod weakly. 

He is bright and cheerful as he moves around the kitchenette, pouring the coffee and joining you at the tiny dining table that acts as a kind of divider between the kitchen and the rest of the living area. 

“Did you sleep okay?”

You look up, and his face falls when he spies the telltale redness in your eyes. “I’m taking that as a no. What’s going on, Lyd?”

A fortifying sip of the strong coffee. You sit upright and look at him, studying his beautiful face. “Darling, I meant what I said last night. About how anxious I am, how scared of what comes next, the…uncertainty of it all.”

“But we know we’re serious about each other? We talked about it,” he replies, sipping his own coffee. “You know that. Don’t you?”

“I do. I really do. And we are, but -” you pause to gather your thoughts. “But that doesn’t mean there’s an answer for what happens when I have to go home, and that’s eating away at me.”

He looks at you kindly, but you can see the confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean, exactly, Lyd? Surely we can see if circumstances change over the summer, and if not then we do distance until stuff gets figured out. Right? Things are going to be just fine.”

It’s so tempting to smile and agree, but you can’t. You owe him honesty, as much as you want clarity. 

“Is that really what you want?”

“Distance? It’s not ideal, but if it comes to it I think we can make it work and - Lyd?”

You have closed your eyes, fearful of tears falling. 

Say it. Say it. Be honest with him.

“I - I don’t think I want a long-distance relationship.”

Ben makes no effort to hide his shock. “You don’t want a long-distance thing?” He shakes his head in amazement. “Even if that’s the only option for the moment?”

“I just want certainty, not constantly saying everything would be okay or we’d see what happens when we don’t know that things will be okay, or what’s going to happen. I want you, love. I want a life with you, you know that. Don’t you?”

“But you don’t want long-distance with me.” His brow furrows and his jaw ticks as he stares at the floor. 

“I don’t know, I mean I just want what we have now, I don’t know if I could cope with the implications of that kind of distance and -”

He exhales sharply, exasperated, and reaches for his light cotton jacket. “So it’s all or nothing. You would rather have no relationship than even try distance, is that it?”

Fury and sadness mingle and build in your chest. “Ben, that’s not what I fucking said.” Your hands fall to your sides, defeated. “I’m just - fuck, I’m not finding the words right now.” 

“Well, if you find them later let me know.” He opens the door of the apartment and pauses for a moment. “See you, Lyddie.”

You sit staring into space for a good half hour at your appointed desk in the print room at the Bibliothèque nationale, before you open the grey archive box of lithographs you’d called up for the day. 

The ritual of research is familiar and soothing, a useful distraction from the memory of the argument that morning. You set out your camera and prepare your customary scraps of paper inscribed with the call number of the collection, to make it easier for you to match up images with notes when you return to the materials at home. Wherever the hell “home” is supposed to be, now. 

Assess each print. Study it. Immerse yourself in the details before photographing it and writing up your observations on your laptop. Repeat over and over, add to your research materials and stave off the metaphorical wolves circling in your brain. 

Your stomach starts to rumble just before one o’clock. The garden courtyard outside the building that houses the print room is busy, with researchers and visitors taking an al fresco lunch and chatting over coffee. Salad consumed, you take your phone out of the transparent plastic briefcase you are required to use inside the library. 

No message from him. Nothing. 

You decide to make a call. She should be on her lunch now, too. 

“Lyd! How are you? How’s Pareeeeee?” Kate’s voice is cheery and comforting, and exactly what you needed to hear. 

“Hiya… um, can you talk for a few minutes?”

She immediately knows there’s something wrong and her tone shifts. “Of course, always… Lyd, what’s happened? Are you okay?”

Deep breaths. “Kate, I think I need to make a decision and I’m fucking terrified.”

Kate pauses, aware that she doesn’t need to ask you what this is about. “Okay. Talk to me. Let’s work through it.”

BEN: When do you think you’ll be finished for the day? We should talk. I’m so sorry about this morning x

LYDIA: Probably by 4.30 or so. Do you want me to come meet you?

BEN: I’ll come to you. You want food? It’s a nice day for a picnic dinner. 

LYDIA: It is. Dinner is your choice. Meet me at the rue Vivienne exit at 4.30 or so? x

BEN: You say that as if I know where that is… I’ll find it. See you soon, Lyddie. Love you. 

Ben Morales leans against the railings of the Bibliothèque nationale and looks at his watch. He’s early, so he meanders across the street and wanders into the Galerie Vivienne, admiring the fine detail of the mosaic floors and brass light fittings that adorn the nineteenth-century covered arcade. He pauses at an antiquarian bookstore and print shop, perusing the selection of vintage postcards displayed in wooden crates outside. 

He’s standing at the entrance to the arcade when he looks up and sees you coming through the gates of the library, somehow managing to carry a backpack, tote bag, and small cross-body handbag all at once. 

You don’t notice him at first, instead turning your head in both directions as you look for him. Ben’s heart soars when he sees you, in spite of the nagging ache he’s felt in the pit of his stomach ever since the argument you’d had that morning. 

He calls out to you from across the street, raising his hand in an enthusiastic wave, and a warm, delighted smile spreads across your face when you realise he’s there, waiting for you. He’s as impossibly handsome as ever in his navy blue shirt jacket, white tshirt, and jeans, tote bag slung over one shoulder. 

You keep Kate’s words from your lunchtime conversation in the forefront of your mind. “You know what you want, Lyd. You know what you need to do.”

“Sorry, I got delayed on the way out of the print room and then it always takes longer to pack up than I’d anticipated and then I thought I should pop to the bathroom before I left and then -”

Ben interrupts your explanation with a kiss and a hug. “I’m so sorry, Lyddie. I’m sorry about this morning.” He pulls away and holds out a small, flat brown paper bag. “A peace offering.”

The bag contains a selection of vintage postcards of Paris, postmarked in the early years of the twentieth century: Notre-Dame, photographed from the Left Bank; the place de la Bastille; the facade of the Bibliotheque nationale you’d just left. 

“Some of your favourite places, right?”

You reach for his hand and lean in for a kiss. “You know me so well. Thank you, my love, they’re beautiful.” You spot a larger brown paper carrier bag in his other hand. “Dinner?”

Ben smiles, holding out the bag for your approval. “I ended up getting a selection of stuff from one of the Asian takeout places near here. And I picked up a bottle of chilled white wine, and some paper cups. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect. Let’s go, Benjamin - dinner at the Palais-Royal awaits.”

“I have to admit, I did wonder when you said we were going to a royal palace. Didn’t seem very…Lyddie.”

Ben quirks an eyebrow in your direction. You giggle as you reach into the bag of takeout and retrieve boxes of rice, steamed buns, gyoza, and nems. 

“I mean, technically it was a royal residence. But the gardens - where we are now - were public, as were the arcades and shops.” You set the boxes of food on a green metal park chair, serving as a makeshift table in front of your bench. “And it was an important location in the revolutionary period, so…”

He grins and opens the bottle of wine. “Ah! There it is. That’s my Lyd.”

His Lyd. Affection surges in your chest, and you place a hand on Ben’s knee, giving it a light squeeze as he pours some of the white wine into a paper cup and hands it to you.

He raises his own cup in your direction. “To my clever, revolutionary girl.”

You swap stories about your respective days as you dig into the food: Ben describing his informal solo tour of literary locations on the Left Bank, you talking through your finds in the print room. He shows you photos he took of Richard Wright’s apartment building, of the original site of Sylvia Beach’s Shakespeare and Company, and a selfie of himself looking completely perplexed at the plaque on the rue du Cardinal-Lemoine that refers to James Joyce as a “British writer of Irish origin.”

You burst out laughing at that one. “I’m so glad you found that. It annoys me every time I see it.”

“I sent it to Evan. He was not impressed.” He slips his phone back into his pocket and reaches for another spring roll. “And then I went and sat in the Luxembourg Gardens for a bit, worked over a little more of the play, thought about Beckett in Paris, watched the world go by. I remembered you said it was one of your favourite places to just sit and think.” 

He smiles softly, almost shyly, at you, and with a pang you remember that some serious conversation lies ahead, no matter how tempting it is to sit here forever in the Palais-Royal, eating your picnic dinner and drinking your wine surrounded by the ghosts of writers and lovers and revolutionaries long past. 

Lemon-scented wipes remove the residual traces of nems and dipping sauces from your fingers, and Ben stacks the empty food containers in the brown paper bag before topping up your paper cup of wine. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around you to hold you close. 

He sips his wine and takes a deep breath. “I wanted to talk about earlier.” 

You raise your head, turn to him, and nod. He rests a hand on your thigh, tracing circles with his index finger on your leg. 

“I’m sorry if it ever felt like I was dismissing your worries, Lydia. I - well, I guess I was avoiding the issue. Like if I kept saying things would work out, they’d just… work out.”

You smile gently and reach for his hand. “Without having to make the hard call.”

He squeezes your hand and nods. “Exactly. But I did a lot of thinking about that today. About the future, about what I want - what you want.” He gives you a nervous glance.

“You were right, Lyd, long-distance couldn’t give us…I don’t want long-distance with you, either. I couldn’t, Lyd. I want what you said you want - a life, us, together. Like now.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb. “I can’t imagine anything else.”

You bring your hand to rest on his and close your eyes, feeling tears prickling against your eyelids. 

He takes a deep breath. “Lyd, look at me.” Your eyes meet his, dark and warm and serious all at once. “Lyd, I - I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That’s all I want, and - fuck, I think I’ve known I wanted that for a while now.”

You open your mouth to respond and he shakes his head gently. “Lyddie - Lydia - I want to be with you, no matter what it takes.” Another deep breath. “And that’s why - if you want, of course, only if you want - I’ll move back with you at the end of the year. I’ve got some job alerts set up, I’ll find something, you know? I - I just want to be with you.”

“You can’t give up your whole life, darling.” Your voice is quiet as you take in the significance of what he’s telling you, what he’s offering. To his astonishment, you burst out laughing.

“What’s funny, Lyd?”

“I did a lot of thinking today, too. You know you’re all I want, don’t you?” You look at him expectantly, and he nods. “And I was going to tell you that - if you wanted - I would try to stay in the US, so that I could be with you. So that we could make a life together, plan our future.” You turn to him and grin. “But now it seems we’re still going to be on opposite sides of the pond, just with swapped continents.”

Laughter rises from Ben’s chest, emerging as a bright, wide smile and eyes crinkling with delight. He cups your face with his hands and kisses you, over and over, before pulling away abruptly. 

“Wait. You said I couldn’t give up my life, but you want to give up yours? And you know Barrow doesn’t do partner or spousal hires…”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be giving up my life. It would be living the life I want to live, with the man I adore. That’s better, no?” You reach over to brush an errant curl off his forehead. “Anyway, I can look for a position within commuting distance, right? I’d rather that than feel I had got a job I didn’t really deserve.”

He blushes slightly and looks at you from under his lashes. “Even so. I meant it, I would follow you anywhere. I’ll go wherever you want me to be, wherever you want to be.”

“Okay. How about this?” You sit up a little straighter, hands resting on his. “We’re clearly both prepared to move. So…we both start looking for jobs, you near my place and me around Barrow, and whoever gets an appointment first - that’s where we go.”

Ben looks into the middle distance and nods, turning over the proposal in his head. “That sounds like a plan, baby.” 

“Then it’s a deal?”

He grins and kisses you softly. “It’s a deal.”

The evening is bright and warm as you meander hand in hand through the narrow streets of the Marais, heading east, homeward bound. 

You spot a buzzy corner café and nudge Ben. “How about a drink, darling? Something bubbly, maybe?”

He smiles, and you know his eyes are sparkling behind his sunglasses as he squeezes your hand and follows your lead towards one of the small round tables arranged outside the café. The server is typically Parisian: efficient, polite but not overly familiar, and they take your order and return promptly with two glasses of champagne and little dishes of olives and mixed nuts. 

“À nous deux, Paris!” Ben clinks his glass to yours and you giggle as the first sip sends bubbles bursting on your tongue. 

“Quoting Balzac in the original French?! Where were you all my life, Benjamin?”

He shrugs and smiles to himself. “Could ask you the same question.”

Long, thick fingers begin to rub circles on the flesh of your thigh, feeling the heat of your skin through the light fabric of the button down sky blue shirt dress you’re wearing. You echo the gesture, tracing patterns on the back of his hand, and your expression becomes more serious, more intense, your voice quieter.

“I love you, Ben.” 

He squeezes your thigh gently. “I love you, Lyd.” 

Sipping champagne and nibbling on the snacks, you watch the world go by, content and cosy in the little bubble that is just you and him. You’re checking your appearance in the bathroom mirror when a realisation sweeps through you. Your eyes widen, mouth forming into a little “o” before stretching into a happy smile as you ascend the stairs from the basement to the main café and rejoin Ben at the table.

“So something occurred to me.”

He chases the last olive around the dish with a cocktail stick. “Mmmmm?”

“We’re doing this, aren’t we? We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together. That’s what we’ve said we want. Right? I didn’t imagine that?”

Ben lifts his head, puts down the cocktail stick, and looks into your eyes with a bemused smile on his face. “No, you didn’t. And yes, we are.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles broadly. “And isn’t it fucking wonderful?”

You nod excitedly and a surge of laughter erupts from both of you, quietened only by a warm, passionate kiss. You break away and run your fingers through the messy strands of hair around his forehead.

“I know people might think it’s soon, love. But… it’s not. I know.”

“I know too, Lyddie. When you know, you know.” He reaches for your hand and brings it to his lips. “And to be honest, I don’t think anyone who knows us will think it’s too soon.”

The server returns to take the empty glasses and dishes. “Autre chose?” [Something else?]

Ben winks at you mischievously and orders two more glasses of champagne. 

The walk back to the apartment should have taken about twenty minutes. Or at least, it would have had you not both been tipsy, incredibly happy, and unable to keep your hands off each other. 

It takes just under an hour for you to get from the Marais back into the heart of the faubourg Saint-Antoine, stopping here and there along the way to indulge in some making out in quiet side streets and passageways. 

“I’m so glad there’s only one flight of stairs,” you hiss theatrically, Ben trailing a hand over your ass as you reach the landing and the door to the flat. 

Once inside, you pull him tight to you and move swiftly in the direction of the small bedroom, fingers already hooked inside the waistband of his jeans as he holds your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, tongues sweeping over each other and lips pressed together so hard you swear they’ll be bruised by morning.

“Sit on the end of the bed, baby.” He nods and follows your instructions, undoing his jeans as he watches you standing before him. 

You start to unbutton your dress, keeping your eyes on him as you ease it off and let it fall to the floor. Ben’s eyes roam slowly over you, mouth falling open slightly as he takes in the floral print of your panties, the light blue lace of your bra, the softness and curves of your body. 

You move closer to him, standing between his legs as he wraps his arms around your lower back and buries his face against your breasts while you languidly trail your fingers through his hair. 

You pull back and look at him, immediately giggling. He still has his glasses on, and those coffee-brown eyes are half-hidden behind a fog on the lenses. 

“Let’s take these off, shall we, Professor Morales?”

The combination of champagne and a decision about your future together has made you joyful, more confident - and more direct. 

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that, baby?” 

Ben raises his eyebrows and his ears flush pink. “I don’t really think…uh…”

You kiss him, his hands moving to grab the flesh of your ass and pull you tight to his body. 

“I think you’re hot as fuck, Ben Morales, and I’m going to tell you. And show you.” You wrap your arms around his neck and encourage him to move backwards a little, so that you can straddle him. “Lemme show you how gorgeous you are to me, my love. Hmmm?”

He grins, nods, and moans as his mouth passes over the velvet skin of your heavy tits. You help him out of his white T-shirt, and pause to take in the sight of him: your thighs framing his hips and waist, his hands resting on them; his tummy, somehow both broad and solid and yet soft, pressed deliciously against your own belly; his beautiful face, eyes filled with desire, and mouth begging to devour and be devoured. 

The temptation is too strong, your hands moving to caress his face as your lips meet his again. You keep your forehead pressed to his as you break the kiss and whisper to him, murmuring about how his dark gaze can make you ache for him, what it feels like to have his lips pressed to your body. 

Your hands move slowly across his shoulders and down his back, feeling the warmth of his golden skin, the strength underneath the surface. “This beautiful body, baby,” you murmur, placing tiny kisses to his collarbone. “When you’re above me, fucking me, or about to, and I look up and see you so fucking broad and solid…”

His breathing hitches as your mouth works its way down his chest and towards his tummy, lips and tongue picking out those little patches of freckles that you love so much, teeth sometimes scraping lightly over his warm, solid middle as you carefully move your body off his and onto the floor between his legs.

“You know how fucking sexy this tummy is, baby. Told you the first night we were together.” He looks sceptical and your hands roam over the warm softness of his skin, your cunt positively aching with need at the sensation. 

“I’m serious, Ben. It’s so fucking hot, the way your body looks, the feeling of your tummy against mine…” You whine as you roll your hips and clench your thighs, and he sits up slightly to drag down his jeans and underwear, a hand wrapping around his cock as he seeks some relief of his own. 

You reach for his other hand, holding it gently as you suck each finger in turn. “I love these hands, baby.” You kiss his palm and he gasps. “I love the sight of them, the feeling of them on me, in me, the things they do to me.”

His eyes are wide and dark with lust and adoration. “Fucking hell, Lyd, you’re incredible.”

And then your fingers join his, working the base of his cock and making Ben gasp with sheer pleasure. He moves his hands up to grope and caress your breasts, long fingers slipping under the lace of your bra to play with your nipples. 

“Touch yourself,” he hisses, hands full as he massages the soft weight of your tits. You obey the instruction, keeping your eyes locked on him as you bring one hand to part your soaking folds while the other continues to jerk him off. 

Ben watches for a moment as you rub small, firm circles over the aching bundle of nerves while pleasuring him simultaneously. “Fuck, baby, this is so fucking hot. You’re so good to me.”

You’re on your knees, now, and your mouth is actually watering at the sight before you. “Can I suck your cock, baby?”

He grunts his consent. “This…” You flick your tongue over the tip. “This is fucking gorgeous.” 

“Please, Lyd.” You look up at him and he whines a little, completely turned on by the sight of you between his legs, one hand now caressing the firm muscles of his calf and the other holding his cock in place. You oblige, expertly trailing your tongue along his full length before beginning to take him, bit by bit, inside your wet mouth. 

Ben cries out your name as you continue your ministrations, looking down at you with his eyes blown wide. “I‘ll come if you keep going, baby,” he hisses. “Wanna fuck you, please. Please. Need you.”

You swirl your tongue around the tip one last time before releasing him, bringing your hands to rest again on his legs, fingers massaging the muscles of his thighs as you hum in satisfaction. 

“C’mon, Lyddie.” He gestures with his head and you stand. He pulls you to him with one hand, palm and fingers splayed across the small of your back as he tugs down your panties with the other. Two thick fingers slide into you with ease, and his eyebrows quirk with surprise.

“You’re fucking soaking?” 

The tone of his voice makes you laugh, and he chuckles against the warm softness of your belly before kissing it, over and over, as your fingers wind through his curls. 

“I told you, love, you’re so fucking hot. Don’t even have to touch me and I’m ready for you.”

Ben grins wickedly as you push him back onto the bed and straddle him again, reaching down and stroking his cock a couple of times before you ease him into you and sink down, moaning loudly as he stretches you, fills you, takes you. You’ve had each other so many times now, and yet the sensation of him inside you remains new and thrilling. 

You start to move, shifting and rolling your hips in a careful, deliberate rhythm that has the two of you sighing and gasping with deep, delicious pleasure. You lean forward to come closer to him, desperate for his touch, for the warmth of his chest against yours. He eases down the straps of your bra a little and caresses your tits as he starts to fuck up into you, meeting your movements. 

He lifts his head up, greedily seeking your lips. His hands trace the curve of your back down to your hips and ass as he watches your bodies moving together, and he smiles wistfully as he brings a finger to your clit. “God, I love fucking you, Lyd.”

You giggle and cry out at his touch, riding him harder still as you edge closer to coming. His finger draws firm, tight circles over the swollen bud, tracing the familiar path he has carved out in you so many times. “Fuck me, baby - gonna come, don’t fucking stop - you gonna come?”

He closes his eyes tightly as the fingers of his other hand press hard into your thigh, breath hitching and voice raw. “Mmmmhmm. I’m so fucking close. Hold on, can you?”

You nod and try to temporarily quell the orgasm that’s been building in you since you got him home, Ben slowing his finger’s steady movements over your soaking clit.

And then the pace increases again, and you’re there, and he’s there. Together. 

Morning announces itself with a rustle of paper and a delicious, buttery aroma. Eyes blinking open, you become conscious of Ben’s soft lips on the nape of your neck - and aware that the enticing smell is right under your nose. 

“Bonjour, Lyd.” Ben is holding an open paper bag just under your nose. “Croissant?”

You turn to face him properly and sit up in bed beside him. “Hi, darling. How long are you up?”

He reaches into the bag and takes out a croissant, before placing it on a plate and handing it to you. “Not that long. You looked so beautiful and content, I didn’t want to wake you.”

The flaky, buttery pastry melts in your mouth as you sigh with pleasure. “Jesus fucking Christ. Nothing compares.”

Ben stops just as he’s about to bite into his own croissant, throwing you a cheeky glance. “Nothing? Nothing compares? You’re sure about that?”

You rest your head on his shoulder, the cotton of his long sleeved T-shirt soft and comforting against your face. 

“Nothing compares… in the world of baked goods.”

 He nods, satisfied, and takes a mouthful of the golden viennoiserie. 

“Oh, fuck. Maybe you’re right, Lyd.”

You giggle. “Thanks for these, love. You’re so kind.”

Ben shakes his head. “As if you wouldn’t have done the same.” He chews thoughtfully on the pastry. “Anyway, I feel like I still need to make it up to you. Yesterday morning, I mean.”

“You apologised, love, and we sorted things out. It’s fine.”

He shrugs. “I just feel bad. I shouldn’t have made you feel bad. Should have known by now that you struggle with this kind of uncertainty.” Ben reaches for your left hand, bringing it to his lips. “I’m sorry, Lyd.”

“Thank you, Ben. But we’re fine. I mean it. That’s what makes a relationship work, isn’t it? Learning about each other and knowing when we need to learn or listen more.”

He nods. “Exactly. And that’s why I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with you. No matter where that is.”

The rest of the week is spent partly in research libraries, at least in your case, but mostly in the streets and cafés and galleries and museums of the city you love so much with the man you adore. 

You watch with quiet joy as he sees Manet’s Olympia in real life for the first time, shaking his head in admiration and awe as he takes in the painting. He steps back and folds his arms. 

“She’s really something.”

“She sure is. I’d be that confident too, if I was as gorgeous as her.”

He arches an eyebrow and looks at you. “You are. Much more so.” 

You huff a laugh as you link his arm and wander off to see Courbet’s Burial at Ornans. “You want me to pose like one of Manet’s French girls, Ben?”

“Wouldn’t say no, Lyd.”

At Harry’s New York Bar, the legendary cocktail bar near the Opéra, you cuddle up in a cosy corner of the piano lounge in the basement, and drink French 75 cocktails while the resident pianist plays Gershwin late into the night. You follow your own tailor-made walking tours, spotting literary landmarks and movie locations. A night in a Saint-Germain bar ends with a visit to the late-night bookstore L’Écume des Pages (and an inevitable bag full of newly-purchased books). Ben oohs and aahs over the bouquinistes’ boxes that line the walls overlooking the Seine, unable to resist a quick perusal of their selection of rare books and vintage magazines. You share a Paris-Brest pastry from Angelina, moaning appreciatively as you devour the delicious dessert. Together, you drink coffee and sip wine and talk and laugh and people-watch to your heart’s content. 

You could never tire of Paris. Even so, Ben’s wide-eyed excitement and enthusiasm makes everything new: the landmarks, the streetscapes, the food, the drink, the sounds and smells.

And you. He has made you new, too.

You feel it in the way he looks at you when you wave your hands and wax lyrical about god knows what painting or book or historical event. It’s in the reassuring weight of his arm around your shoulders as you wander through the narrow back streets, feeling like you’re ten feet tall. It’s there in the hundreds of little opportunities he finds during each day to touch you: the small of your back as you enter a building, the back of your hand as you sit together on the Métro, the side of your mouth as he brushes away an errant croissant flake. 

It is in the moments when you stop on the street and pull him to you for a kiss, unconcerned by the Parisians tut-tutting as they have to walk around the two of you. It’s in the moans he pulls from you, and you from him, when you are tangled in bedsheets at night, or in the morning, or even - after a lunchtime trip to the movies that escalated into some heated back-row kisses - in the middle of the afternoon, languidly stretched out naked for him on the bed. 

Just like one of Manet’s French girls, he joked.

Most of all, it’s there in the light that always seems to be shining in your eyes whenever you look at him, knowing that he is yours and you his. 

“You’re a tolerant man, Ben Morales,” you say with a chuckle as you walk through the imposing gates of Père Lachaise cemetery one bright morning. “Willing to hang out in Parisian cemeteries with me as I fangirl over the tombs of people no one has cared about for a hundred years or more.”

Ben looks at the list of names on the cemetery map and smiles at you, squinting slightly behind his sunglasses. “I rather like your Gothic side, Lyddie. And I appreciate this too, you know - I want to find Balzac and Proust’s tombs, while we’re here.” He drapes an arm across your shoulders as you climb steadily up one of the winding paths leading through the oldest part of the cemetery, stopping here and there to look at some of the more unusual tombs and memorials. 

There’s a certain part of Père Lachaise, its highest point, where you can look out and see the city unfolding below. You lead him there and sit on a bench, keen for him to take in the view. Other visitors and tourists meander past with their maps, chatting in various languages about Oscar Wilde and Jim Morrison or any number of the luminaries whose remains lie alongside those of many more ordinary Parisians in this leafy enclave. 

And then it’s just the two of you, side by side, contemplative. Little birds chirp and chatter in the trees, their song a moment of peaceful stillness in the bustling city. 

Paris has a tendency to look particularly magical when you’re entering into the final hours of a visit. This evening, the fading spring sunlight cuts a path along the street below, gleaming off the windows and shop signs that line the ancient thoroughfare.

“My heart always breaks a little when I have to leave.”

Ben finishes combing back his hair, still damp from the shower and curls starting to form at the nape of his neck. He turns from the mirror just inside the door of the apartment, adjusting the collar of his white shirt. 

“This isn’t the last time, Lyddie. Not for you, not for us.”

You nod sadly, picking up your purse and slipping into a pair of dark red patent ballet flats. “I know. I’ve been telling myself that for twenty-odd years, but it never gets easier. Stupid, huh.”

He shakes his head as he reaches for your hand. “Not stupid. You love this place, and twenty-odd years is a long time to be in love.” He looks you up and down admiringly. “You’re all fancy.”

You cock your hip and strike a pose as Ben laughs. “I like to dress up for my long-term lover, the city of Paris, Monsieur Morales. Anyway, you’re all fancy too.”

“Not like you, I’m not. You look…” He exhales as he takes you in. “You look like you walked out of a perfect French movie.”

Even you have to admit he’s got a point. Sure, the outfit had been a bit of a splurge, a treat to yourself from the BHV department store. But a classic, knee-length little black dress would never go out of style. At least, that’s how you justified it. That, and the fact that it hugged your body just so, working wonders with your curves, somehow narrowing your middle and accentuating your tits and hips in a manner that was impossibly elegant and incredibly sexy. It was a marvel. 

For once, you got a flash of what Ben always told you he saw when he looked at you. It made for a pleasant change.

This evening you have accessorised with a vintage brooch and chunky brass earrings, the gold necklace Ben gave you for Valentine’s Day a permanent fixture around your neck. The spring evening is warm enough for you to get away with a dark red pashmina shawl in lieu of a jacket, though you worried bare legs might be a step too far and decided not to forego your black hold-up fishnet stockings.

Ben slips into his olive green suit jacket and you squeeze his hand. “Thank you, my love. You look beautiful, too.” 

He does. But then, he always does: his beauty is easy, natural, effortless; as obvious to you when he’s bleary-eyed and bed-headed in his old t-shirts and pyjama bottoms as it is now, with him suited and booted and looking every inch the debonair Parisian intellectual in his clear-framed glasses.

For an instant you wish you could travel back to your broken-hearted self all those years before, to tell her that a better day would come, that real love would find you when and where you least expected it, and that it would arrive in the form of a man as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside.

Most people would say the two of you are a little overdressed for your dinner destination. But then, you aren’t most people.

You catch a glimpse of the two of you reflected in a shop window as you walk along boulevard Henri IV. You, black dress and red accessories; Ben, green suit with his top shirt buttons undone, hair combed back and starting to form soft waves a little as it dries. The fact that you are both wearing sunglasses only enhances the sense of slightly retro European chic. 

“Look at us. Not bad, hmmm?” 

Ben stops, puts down the wicker basket he’s carrying, and winds his arms around your waist, kissing the side of your neck. “Perfect.”

You stroll past a little park near the river, pointing out a reconstructed bit of the Bastille to him, and wander in the direction of the Pont Marie and onto the Île Saint-Louis. It’s a little out of the way for where you’re going, but you have a good reason. He asked you a couple of days ago what your favourite view of the city was, and you intend to show him. 

The evening sky is streaked with a palette of pale blues, pinks, oranges and reds as you reach the Pont de la Tournelle and stop to lean on the parapet of the bridge. 

“This is it.”

He stands beside you and rests his hands on the parapet, following your gaze westwards along the river, taking in the silhouette of Notre-Dame - still obscured by scaffolding - painted against the vibrant canvas of the sunset, and the curve of the quaysides as the Seine splits around the Île de la Cité. 

“This is my spot. When I stand here I feel as though I could wrap my arms around the city and as though it wraps its arms around me.” You look at Ben, a little embarrassed. “Sorry. That’s a bit weird, I know. I am aware that it is a city and I cannot hug it, please don’t run away.”

He looks at you with affectionate bemusement. “You know how beautiful that is, to have those feelings and be able to articulate them like that?” He reaches for your hand. “It isn’t weird. It’s you, and it’s wonderful.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and squeeze his hand. “The first time I came to Paris after…everything, I came here the first night. I stood here and I looked at the cathedral and the city.” You pause as the memory resurfaces. “And then I had a massive cry. See? Weird.”

Ben shakes his head and chuckles, pulling you close to him. “Not weird. Catharsis.”

“I guess it was. I was still here. Notre-Dame was still here. Paris was still here. It gave me a sense of hope, I think, for the first time. Like, I knew things would get better.”

“I’m so fucking proud of you, you know?” He kisses your forehead and leans in to murmur, cheekily, in your ear: “So did things get better?”

You wrap your arm around his waist, slipping it under his jacket so you can feel the strong muscles of his back under his shirt. “Eh, I guess you could say that.”

Dinner is simple: a baguette, a selection of cheeses and charcuterie, and a bottle of champagne. But you’ve made the effort to bring proper glasses and plates from the apartment, and you can’t fault the location: watching the river from the Quai Saint-Bernard on the left bank, waving at the people on the big tourist boats - the bateaux-mouches - as they pass. 

“Hell of a view,” Ben muses in between mouthfuls of baguette and Brillat-Savarin cheese. 

You gaze across the river at the Île Saint-Louis and smile contentedly. “It is perfection.”

He chuckles and leans in to kiss you. “I was talking about you. But Paris isn’t too bad, either.”

He looks back at the river, a smile playing on his lips, and you take a moment to admire a perfect view of your own: Ben’s handsome face in profile, hair moving gently in the breeze, the light tan he had acquired after a week of wandering in Parisian spring sunshine complementing the patches of grey-white hair at the hinge of his jaw. 

You can’t help but marvel a little at how fucking gorgeous he is. Well done, Lyd. In that instant, as you take him in, you concentrate on the wonderful feeling of calm and safety that suffuses your body when you’re with him. 

You’d only realised after the abrupt end of your last relationship that you’d spent a decade and a half walking on eggshells, constantly anxious and never wholly comfortable - even with someone who claimed to love you. You feared suggesting the simplest thing: a movie, a dinner, a holiday, lest it prompt a negative reaction or criticism.

With Ben, though? Even with the ongoing uncertainty about where, exactly, your future would be, you had never felt anything other than safe. With a clearer path ahead agreed together, the residual anxiety faded, too. 

It was a new and marvellous feeling. 

As the evening draws in, a little group of musicians set up nearby on the quay, accompanied by a cluster of couples who immediately began to dance to the band. Ben turns and smiles at the spectacle.

“They do this as soon as the weather gets warm here,” you explain, smiling widely as the dancers move around an open area on the quayside. “Sometimes it’s French classics, sometimes American big band, sometimes Latin, sometimes a more contemporary mix, like tonight.”

Ben stands up, dusts off his pants, picks up the picnic basket and extends his hand to you. 

“Would you like to dance, Lyddie?”

How can you refuse, when he’s looking like that and asking you in that voice and smiling at you with such love and affection? 

“I’m not good at this sort of thing, Ben, I warn you.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately. “Bullshit. Now: dance with me, Lyd.”

You get to your feet and he leads you in the direction of the makeshift dancefloor, leaving the picnic basket to one side as he brings you into a dance hold and begins to move, pulling you close to his body as the band and its female lead singer begin a cover of Mitski’s “My Love Mine All Mine”.

The rest of the city falls away as you dance with him, nuzzling against his neck as his hips sway gently, rhythmically against you in time to the slower tempo of the music. Ben’s lips press softly to the top of your head, and you hum in absolute contentment. 

“I love this song, you know.”

He chuckles. “I do. You sing it very beautifully in the shower, sometimes.”

“I doubt it’s beautiful.”

“Trust me. It’s beautiful.”

You nestle against him and sing along, joining in with the lyric that always made you think of him, of how he had broken through your sturdy defences, smoothing and healing the jagged, broken pieces of your soul: “My baby, here on earth/Showed me what my heart was worth”. 

You sing the words quietly against his chest, feeling the vibrations from your voice meeting the rhythm of his heartbeat in a curious music made of two lovers. As the song draws to a close, Ben tenderly lifts your chin and kisses you, enveloping you in those strong arms. Cologne, coffee, bread, paper, something that is just his: his scent, the scent of love and safety.

His big hands skim appreciatively over your figure in the new black dress as he inhales your own perfume, nose buried in the crook of your neck. “Delicious, gorgeous girl,” he murmurs against your velvet skin. “You look incredible tonight, you know?”

Ben pulls your body even tighter to his and you whine softly, the press of his broad form to yours enough to send a rush of wetness to your core. 

“I think we need to get back to the apartment, my love.”

Ben sits at the end of the bed, wearing his shirt and boxers, watching as you take off your jewellery in front of the bedroom mirror. There’s something fascinating about the ritual: how you take out your earrings and put them in their box; the way you tilt your head forward as you remove your necklace.

He still can’t believe it, sometimes, the kind of love he has with you. He’s been desperate to get you home ever since you danced close and slow on the riverbank. That fucking black dress. Driving him slowly crazy all night, every time he looked at you. It’s the way it hugs your hips, accentuates the ample, full curves of your tits, and reveals just enough of your skin to make him want to ease it off your soft, welcoming body. 

His cock twitches at the thought. 

He stands up and crosses the floor, standing behind you. His hands gently caress you as you smile at the reflection of the two of you in the mirror.

“I love this.”

Ben kisses the top of your arm. “I love this, too.”

His lips find their way along the line of your shoulder until they reach the crook of your neck. A little tug to the zipper of the dress and his mouth moves downwards, kissing and sucking at the back of your neck, hands roaming over your body and grabbing handfuls of you as he goes.

He’s pressed against your back, murmuring your name. The extent of his desire is already very much in evidence.

“Fuck, Lyddie.” His breath is warm and urgent against your neck.

“Mmmm?”

“I’ve wanted to take this off since the minute I saw you in it.”

You chuckle. “Looks that bad, huh?”

Lips still on your neck, he caresses your breasts as he shakes his head. “Looks too good on you.”

Ben licks a stripe up the side of your neck and you whine with pleasure, closing your eyes and reaching to caress his face.

“Can I take it off, my love?” His voice is lower, smokier.

You nod, locking your eyes on his. A frisson of excitement courses through your body as Ben eases down the rest of the zipper and eases you out of your little black dress, letting it pool at your feet. 

“Oh, fuck me. These new?”

When you bought the dress, you’d bought new lingerie, too. A bra in caramel and black lace whose delicacy belied its incredible construction, supporting your breasts perfectly. Matching underwear, high-waisted and full but completely sheer, made out of the same black lace that trimmed your bra.

And of course: the stockings.

You nod and close your eyes, trying to avoid seeing yourself in the mirror. You looked alright in the dress, but you still can’t quite face the body underneath it. Ben’s breath ghosts across your shoulder blades as he fondles your tits and kisses the top of your spine. 

“Open your eyes, Lyd.”

You hesitate.

“Lyd. Open your eyes.”

You obey. But you keep your gaze fixed on him, afraid of your own reflection, of a body that you still cannot believe anyone like him would ever really want. 

“Lyddie, please look.” Ben’s voice is firm but pleading. “Look at your beautiful face. Look at this gorgeous, sexy body.” 

He trails a finger along the contours of your breasts, tracing the lace trim of the bra. He brings his hands to your waist, to your hips, pulling you back against him ever so slightly so that you can feel how hard he is. 

You don’t think you’ll ever love your body. But, watching Ben drinking you in with his eyes, running his fingers over the black Parisian lace that clings to the most sensitive and sensual parts of you, you understand that you love the way he loves your body.

“This is what you do to me, Lyd, and I will tell you every day for the rest of our lives that you are the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” You turn to face him, his hands cupping your face as he kisses you deeply. 

He breaks away and looks into your eyes, dark irises searching yours. There’s a vulnerability there, a hint of doubt, lingering in spite of his words. 

“What is it, Lyd?”

You shrug, fingers lightly caressing the curls and waves that cluster around his ears. “I love that you think I’m beautiful. I… still don’t know if I ever will.”

He kisses you again, softer this time. “Can I at least try to convince you? Show you?”

You smile against his lips and wrap your arms around his neck. “I’d like that. Could… could you, like, take charge? For tonight?”

He quirks an eyebrow and returns your kiss, humming against your mouth. “Take charge?”

You feel embarrassment rising in your throat. You’d never really felt able to just ask for what you needed like this before. Old habits die hard.

“Ben, I never felt safe enough to ask a partner to take the lead like this…not before you.”

His expression softens. “I’d give you anything, Lyd. Anything you want.” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to him, chin resting on your shoulder. “And I feel safe with you, too.”

You tilt your head to kiss him. “So…?”

“So, I’m going to take charge and show you exactly how fucking beautiful you are, how sexy you are, how fucking happy I am that I get to be with you.” He pauses to kiss you again. “And if I have to, like I said - I’ll do this every day for the rest of time, if necessary, until you see what a perfect goddess you are.”

Another, deeper kiss; the sensation of his broad hands on the soft skin of your tits and belly, pulling you tight to him, the press of his erection against you as he guides you to lean back against the wall and slips his fingers under the crotch of your panties, parting your folds and working your clit and pussy until you’re panting with desire and need. 

For a moment, you think he’s going to fuck you. But then slowly, steadily, Ben sinks to the ground in front of you, mouth and teeth and tongue finding the softest, most yielding parts of your body as he works his way to his knees. 

Ben looks up at you, eyes glittering with lust and adoration. He is a supplicant before you, ready to worship, to seek and give a pleasure as sacred as it is profane. He venerates your body with his mouth. His tongue traces the outline of your hips, his lips kiss the softness of your lower belly, his teeth scrape across the thick flesh of your upper thighs. He tugs the panties down completely, parting your legs and helping you out of the garment. 

“I want you to keep the stockings on, okay?”

You nod your assent. Those perfect dark eyes find yours, a flash of mischief crossing his gaze as he gently pushes a finger inside you before placing both hands firmly on your hips, pressing into your flesh. 

And then he tilts his head, just so, and you cry out as he brings his lips to your wet pussy, mouth and tongue working your entrance as his nose rubs with precision against your clit. You buck slightly against him but he holds you in place, grunting and groaning with pleasure as he goes down on you. The warmth of his breath against your core makes your cunt clench around nothing, desperate for him.

You wind your fingers through the soft waves of his hair, holding him in position and throwing your head back as you revel in every lap of his tongue, every brush of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, every nudge of that beautiful nose against your clit. He’s eating you out like you’re his last meal, your moans and writhing body seemingly only serving to spur him on. 

Even so, Ben senses that you’re holding back. The position is incredible, the sight of him, the sound of him, the feel of him making you want to come harder than you’ve ever done before. But you worry about whether your legs will give way - whether you’ll hurt him if you fall forward. 

“I’ve got you, Lyd,” he murmurs, face still buried between your thighs. “Let go. I’ve got you. You’re so close. Come for me. Want you to come like this.”

With his fingers fucking you and his lips sucking and licking at your clit, your body yields and you cry out as you come against his face. 

He stays on his knees as you ride out the orgasm, thumbs rubbing a gentle circle against your hips, before scrambling to his feet and wrapping you in his strong arms. Your legs are still trembling as you lean in and kiss him like your lives depend on it, tasting yourself on his lips. He manoeuvres you to the bed, laying you down with the utmost care. 

You look up at him as he shifts into position above you, the low light catching the traces of your release that glisten across his face and his beautiful eyes flitting greedily over your face and body. You reach up to unbutton his shirt and he shucks off his undervest. An electrical current of desire courses through you as you rake your hands over his broad shoulders and down to that soft tummy you love so much. His eyes are warm and wanting: your darling, your lover, your partner. You are safe in his hands, and you are ready to give yourself entirely to him.  

A little smile quirks at his mouth as he lies down beside you, turning on his side and trailing his long fingers across the velvet skin of your tits, still enclosed in the delicate lace of your bra. 

“Do you know how much I want you, Lyd?” he murmurs, mouth working hot, needy kisses across your breasts. 

“Tell me.”

“Want you all the time.” You can feel his cock hard against you. “Want to have all of you, want to touch and kiss and fuck every last inch of you. I’m going to use my mouth on you now, baby, okay?”

He nips and sucks at the soft flesh of your belly as you moan, pussy aching for him. “And the more I have you, the more I want you.” He finds your soaking folds again and drags two fingers through the slick, bringing them to your lips so you can suck them clean. “I love you. And I can’t get enough of you.”

You let out a half-laugh, half-groan as he pulls you to him and quickly takes off your bra, mouth finding your breasts and tongue swirling over your nipples. You slip a hand between the two of you, tugging down his boxer briefs and wrapping your fingers around his cock as you stroke him, feeling him becoming fully hard under your careful touch.

“Do you think you have another in you, my love?” 

You nod. 

“Use your words, Lyd.”

“Yes. I think so…fuck, yes sir.”

He groans loudly against you and slips his fingers back through your soaking folds, chuckling a little at the whine of pleasure you let out as his warm breath ghosts against your ear. “Fucking hell, Lyd. You look so fucking beautiful. Such a beautiful woman.” He hooks his fingers against the perfect spot inside you and you buck against him, hand still working his dick. “And such a pretty pussy, so tight and so wet for me.”

He eases you into a different position, your back against his chest as his erection nudges against you. First his hands, then - with a shuffle down the bed - his mouth caresses the plump flesh of your ass, lips and teeth scraping over the sensitive skin as you whimper. He shifts your leg up and nestles himself into position.

“Can I have you, darling?”

You whine into the bed, feeling your orgasm building and building. “Please, baby, I need you inside me - fuck, baby, please…”

“I thought I was in charge?” 

His voice is low, honeyed, hot as he whispers in your ear. It tips you closer and closer to the edge. 

“You are… I just want you so fucking much.”

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?”

“Please. Fuck me, my love. Hard as you want to.”

“Fuck, Lyd.” With a groan and some muttered expletives, Ben sinks inside you, pausing for a moment to enjoy the sensation. “Always feels so incredible inside you, baby,” he pants, one arm holding you around your tits and the other against your belly. “Just - oh, fuck - just perfect.” 

It is perfect - perfect angle, perfect feeling of him stretching you, of his hands on you. He drags himself out of your cunt slowly, steadily, making you whimper at the loss of him. A snap of his hips and he’s buried inside you again, beginning a hard rhythm that has you crying his name into the bed as he fucks you, fast and deep, the softness of your ass cushioning his thrusts as he showers you with praise. His good girl. His beautiful woman. His love. 

His. His. Only his. Repeated. Possessive. Perfect.

He shifts his hand from your belly to your pussy, working tight circles over the swollen nub of your clit as you get closer and closer, mouth sucking on the delicate flesh of your neck, never letting up the rhythm until you cry out and come on his cock, the wetness audible as he fucks you through it. 

“Good, baby?” He pulls out as you’re still coming down, easing you onto your back and settling himself on top of you, carefully parting your legs. 

You look up at him, cockdrunk, seeing stars, and with no way to express how you feel other than a satisfied whine as you pull him to you for a hungry, sloppy kiss. Ben smiles and chuckles against your lips as he reaches down to gently hook an arm under your knee as he sinks back into you with a guttural moan. 

He picks up the pace again quickly, taking you harder now, rougher, even, and gripping the headboard of the bed with his free hand. His hair is dishevelled, errant short curls falling over his brow as sweat runs in rivulets over the freckles scattered underneath the hollow of his throat and lips finding yours as you start to babble to him incoherently, surrendering to the sensation. 

He drops his hand from the headboard to find yours, pressing your hand and arm into the mattress as he holds you down while he fucks you. 

“Talk to me, Lyd. Tell me. See how much I want you? Tell me.”

You mutter filthily about how deep he is, how big he is, how you love having him inside of you, how much you want him - need him - to fill you up. But then you look at him - at his beautiful face, screwed up and teeth gritted as he makes love to you - and another urge takes over, displacing the dirty talk with something no less intense, but softer, all the same.

“I fucking love you, Ben - fuck, keep going, that’s so good, fuck…”

He groans and reaches for your breast, groping it as he nears his own release. “You’re mine, Lyddie. All mine.”

“Yours, Ben. Every bit of me. Yours, forever, like you’re fucking mine.”

“My woman…my - oh, fuck - my good fucking girl.” You know he’s really close. “Keep talking, Lyd. Want to hear it.”

“You’re mine, baby - oh god, Ben, that’s so fucking good - all mine. I’ll give you anything. Everything.”

Ben rests his head against your neck, panting and moaning as his rhythm falters. “I’m all yours, Lydia, always - f-fuck, I’m gonna…”

You hold him tight, hands across the breadth of his back. “You’ll never be alone again, baby - fuck, Ben! - gonna take care of you, gonna be our own little family…”

He positively growls as he comes inside you, your head knocking against the headboard as he snaps his hips against yours before collapsing against your body. You hold him tight, gentle, slow, one hand winding through his curls and the other reaching for his hand as you plant soft kisses along his hairline.

He eases himself out of you with a final kiss and flops back onto the mattress beside you, still trying to catch his breath and with the most beautifully blissed-out expression on his face.

“I’m just going to clean up and take these stockings off, my love,” you murmur, shifting your body to the edge of the bed. “You okay?”

Ben grins and giggles to himself as he looks at you. “I am fantastic. Don’t know my name or what year it is, but I am fucking fantastic.”

You pad back from the bathroom as quickly as you can, discarding your stockings and climbing back into bed beside him. He’s reaching for you before you’ve even settled your body on the mattress, broad hands gently rubbing your belly, your hips, the line of your breasts. His breath is steadier now, face and body completely relaxed in the gorgeous afterglow.

“You are such a beautiful man.”

Ben opens one eye and meets your gaze. “Hmmmph?”

“I said, you are such a beautiful man. Don’t dare deny it.” 

He smiles softly, closing his eyes again as your fingertips trace the line of his nose, brush against an errant curl, find the outline of the little bare patches on the side of his jaw. Your thumb swipes gently across his lower lip, fingers seeking out the texture of his moustache. 

You go to speak, and stop yourself. 

“What were you going to say, Lyddie?” His voice is heavy, sleep beckoning him.

“Nothing, I was just - no, it’s stupid.”

“Nothing stupid could ever come out of your pretty mouth.”

You giggle quietly and bring yourself even closer to him, resting your hand on his chest. He reaches up to hold it. 

“It’s just that… I don’t know. When I look at you like this, at all the little things that are just uniquely you, it feels like everything fits. You know?”

He opens his eyes again. “Everything fits?”

“It’s like, ‘aha. Yes. That.’ Like I was always meant to be looking at this face. Like there was a bit of me that I didn’t even know I was missing and it just was…it was you. Even if I didn’t know it.”

He smiles and leans in for a soft kiss. “And now everything fits.”

He wakes her with coffee and kisses, knowing how much she hates prising herself from the warmth of their shared bed. A little incentive, a way to help her avoid panic later in the morning, one of those tiny acts of love they perform for each other every day. 

She orders a taxi for a couple of hours’ time and strips the bedsheets, casting an eye over their shared luggage waiting for departure as she joins him in the living area. Having put the sheets on a wash-dry cycle, her hands rest lightly on his broad shoulders as she quickly kisses him on the cheek and heads for the bathroom to shower. Instinctively, she gathers all but their essentials - toothbrushes and paste, shower gel - and slips them in a ziploc bag, ready to go into one of their cases. 

Once he’s showered, they continue their seamless little ballet of co-operation and partnership as they prepare to depart: a reminder to empty the trash here, an almost-forgotten phone charger spotted there, last few belongings squished into their hand luggage, and a final check on their passports and tickets. She checks every drawer and cupboard one more time while he places their trash bag in the small communal dumpster in the building’s courtyard. 

It is a banal ritual: unthinking, unrehearsed, instinctive. But there’s something in the way they slot together so neatly, the way they complement each other, the easy, naturalness of it all, that speaks to a sense of partnership that works as well in the routines of everyday life as it does in the bedroom. 

He carries the cases down to the main hallway as she checks the apartment’s small windows and locks up, following him downstairs after she drops off the key to Sophie’s neighbour. 

He’s outside, standing with the bags on the pavement outside the building. The G7 taxi pulls up almost immediately, and he can’t help but smile with pride when he hears her confidently chatting away in French to the driver as they load the trunk with their luggage. 

Her hand finds his in the backseat, head resting against his shoulder. Partners. A team.

As the car heads northwards towards the edge of the city, he casts a glance at his phone. Two new job alerts, for positions at institutions in Europe. 

He resolves to check them out properly once they get home. For now, though, just a squeeze of her hand, a kiss to the top of her head, and a silent resolution that he’d follow her to the ends of the earth. 

*******

Further A/N: I'm going to make a separate post with more details on the music, the locations, and the food in this chapter...

#visiting fic #visiting masterlist #mr ben snl #mr ben au #mr ben x ofc #mr ben fanfic #professor ben x ofc #professor!ben #professor!ben x ofc #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedrostories

[tessa-quayle]

spotlight on the OFC

(fanfiction recommendations) :)

the reader insert, the second person, the y/l/n convention (which, for me, can disrupt the text and i haven’t gotten used to it - not criticizing those who do it - i'm the problem, it’s me 🤪) are all the rage in fanfiction.  i get the immersive appeal, and many of the fics i love and enjoy employ the second person.  

richly drawn original characters draw me in and capture my attention. I appreciate how creative folks get with their OFCs, the headcanons, and how they have fun showing off these OFC’s quirks and strengths and interior lives and histories.  it’s a joy to read.

here are a few great OFCs in the Pedro Pascal Character universe.  the stories are engaging and this is a fairly diverse list of OFCs (by that I mean race/ethnicity, life experience, nationality, disability).  as always, each author issues their own warnings.

listed in alphabetical order by writer:

@iamskyereads - Ezra (Prospect) x OFC Beatrice 

ongoing series (Compulsion).  love the sci-fi world-building in the first chapter. Beatrice is a sharp and compelling protagonist who’s suffered a traumatic brain injury and has PTSD.  

@intheorangebedroom - Frankie (Triple Frontier) x OFC Gabrielle 

complete series (Pleased to Meet You).  angsty intercontinental love story between everyone’s favorite pilot and a cool French woman.  the descriptions of different cities are vivid.

@jazzelsaur - Frankie (Triple Frontier) x OFC Ellie

complete series (Between the Raindrops).  the slow burn here is a smolder in the best sense.  Elliot (Ellie) is a widow who lives next door to Frankie.  the weight of grief and angst in this series is remarkable. 

@jomiddlemarch - Joel (The Last of Us) x OFC Grace

loose-fit series (On Call for the Apocalypse).  crossover with Ted Lasso.  set in Jackson WY between seasons 1 and 2, Grace is a snarky doctor (scratch a cynic, find a romantic) hanging out with Joel and Ellie  (format better on AO3)

@julesonrecord and @lunapascal ( @stardustandskycrystals) - Dieter (the Bubble) x OFC Andie 

ongoing series (Curls).  we’re rooting for Dieter and Andie amid all the drama and shenanigans surrounding a pregnancy and a wedding.  this reads like a novel you finish in one sitting.  

@ladamedusoif - Mr Ben (SNL) x OFC Lydia 

ongoing series (Visiting).  Lydia is a European art historian who goes to teach at an East Coast liberal arts college and meets the dashing Mr Ben.  delightful and smart (and I'm not just describing Mr Ben).

@radiowallet - Marcus (We Can Be Heroes) x OFC Amy

ongoing series (Eyes Open).  Single parents Marcus and Amy find love in the workplace, HR be damned.  Amy contains multitudes and the portrait of her as a mother is especially real and sweet.

@whatsnewalycat - Din (Mandalorian) x OFC Charlie

ongoing series (Passenger).  Gritty, dark, cool AU where Din Djarin is a trucker/bounty hunter and Charlie is making her way west.  this fic has a lot of postmodern energy.

@yespolkadotkitty - Pero (Great Wall) x OFC Jade

complete series (Fighting Blind).  Fun, winsome adventure between a museum curator and our favorite Spanish warrior.  Love the time-travel element, the nod to the Asian diaspora, and the rich world-building.  This series is stay-up-past-your-bedtime reading.

feel free to share your fic recs and favorite OCs/OFCs (your own and/or others)!  ❤️

#fic rec #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales x ofc #ezra x ofc #dieter bravo x ofc #mr ben x ofc #joel miller x ofc #marcus moreno x ofc #din djarin x ofc #pero tovar x ofc #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales #ezra prospect fan #ezra prospect #dieter bravo #mr ben snl #mr ben snl fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #marcus moreno #marcus moreno fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #yay for OFCs #trying to get better at reblogging #dieter bravo fanfiction #read these fics

[burntheedges]

Looong fic recs ✨

I'm still working on my own Pedro Pascal Fandom Bingo card 😂 and this is part of that. I was trying to decide what to do for the "create and share a rec list" square and thought about how much I like really long fics. So this is a short list of some of my favorites that are 100k words or more! (x reader unless otherwise marked)

Din

Be-All and Endor by @djarins-cyare (404k)

The World Is Light, Embodied by @davnittbraes (155k)

Joel

Cowboy Like Me by @macfrog (124k)

Something to Fight For by @auteurdelabre (166k)

Your Summer Dream by @swiftispunk (99k but I'm counting it because more is coming)

Dieter

Recovery Road by @chronically-ghosted (108k) (x OFC Natalie)

Frankie

Adrift With You by @morallyinept (120k words (so far?)) (x OFC Jude)

Shared Breaths by @frenchiereading (135k ish)

Between the Raindrops series by @jazzelsaur (148k) (thank you @secretelephanttattoo for the rec!)

Mr. Ben

Visiting by @ladamedusoif (99.3k and it's still in progress so I'm counting it! I'm still catching up)

do you have any recs for looong fics?? please share them!

my bingo card

#pedro pascal fandom bingo #joel miller x reader #dieter bravo x reader #din djarin x reader #frankie morales x reader #mr. ben x reader #fic rec #fic rec list #long fic

[morallyinept]

A list of all my favourite MISC. PEDRO CHARACTERS Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.

PART 1/2

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

MR BEN - SNL:

You Have Me In A Chokehold - @wannab-urs

It's Cuffin' Season - @mellowsaturns

Secret Admirer - @demigoddessqueens

Fancam Worthy - @boliv-jenta GN!Reader

Well Read - @wyn-n-tonic

Rainy Days - @chaoticgeminate

The Speed Of Silence - @popcornforone

What The Hell Are Fancams? & Love At The Top - @musings-of-a-rose

Sending Naked Pics Request - @ozarkthedog

After Swim Practice & Better Than Vanilla - @exquisiteserotonin

Visiting Series - @ladamedusoif OFC!Reader

WING PIT - SNL

First & Ten & Summer Kiss Prompt - @something-tofightfor

Birthday Kiss - Wing Pit - @something-tofightfor

JAY CASTILLO - RED WIDOW:

Nightingale Series - @something-tofightfor

Dreamland - @artemiseamoon

NICO - HOUSE COMES WITH A BIRD:

Kitten Series - @boliv-jenta

A Clumsy Romance - @the-blind-assassin-12

Winktober Nipple Play - @oonajaeadira

Birds Of A Feather Series - @whiskeynwriting

Mystery Of Love - @queridopascal

Let Me Carry You Away Series - @221bshrlocked

ZACH WELLISON - BROTHERS & SISTERS:

Loved & Loaded - @coastielaceispunk

Coming Home - @absurdthirst

Since Forever - @musings-of-a-rose

Lose Control - @supernaturalgirl20

How Did You Know? - @blueeyesatnight

You Found Me Series, All The Things I deserve & Everything - @yespolkadotkitty

You're Classic Series - @chaoticgeminate OFC!F!Reader

Movie Night - @munsonownsmyass

Finding Eden Series - @bluestar22x

DIO MORRISSEY - NYPD BLUE:

My World - @sneetsnootyoit

Insomniac - @scuddisher

I Am A Fucking God - @cowboy-turtle

The Goth & The Jock - @traningdummy M!Reader

A Pill - @odetodilfs Sub!M!Reader

Greedy - @mandoalorian

SANTOS - DRIVE AWAY DOLLS:

Good Boy - @boliv-jenta

OMAR ASSARIAN - LIGHTS OUT:

Tough Love - @supernaturalgirl20

Snuggles - @pintsizemama

When The Lights Go Out Series - @artemiseamoon

THE THIEF - CASILLERO DEL DIABLO WINES:

Said The Spider To The Fly - @blueeyesatnight M x M

My Kiss, Only For You - @ladamedusoif

By Fate Of The Night - @rise-my-angel

The Thief & The Devil In The Details - @boliv-jenta

The Thief - @write-and-buried

An Expected Surprise - @mandosmistress

The Painting - @forever-rogue

Reunions - @ladamedusoif

#pedro pascal characters #fic recs #mr ben snl #wing pit snl #dio morrissey #liam nikita #ricky hauk #the thief casillero del diablo #the thief pedro pascal #omar assarian #eddie the freshman #lucien flores #santos drive away dolls #nico house comes with a bird #jay castillo #zach wellison #pedro pascal fics #pedro pascal stories #pedro pascal character fics #pedro pascal universe

[wannab-urs]

Hello Gorgeous, I’m Gin! What’s your name?

ON HIATUS <- click to see what i mean by that

I write Pedro Pascal Character Fanfiction and do a weekly fic rec post called The Spreadsheet Digest. I also have a tendency to post queer and leftist content, the occasional fandom post (Good Omens, Supernatural, Doctor Who, True Detective, the usual Tumblr rabble), incoherent rambling, and stuff about literature. It’s mostly Pedro though. 

Mod for @pedrostories and @starwarsficnetwork

Do not interact with this blog if you are a TERF - I literally hate you. 

Do not interact with this blog if you are a minor - I don’t hate you, I promise, but almost everything I post is explicit. If you don’t have your age indicated on your blog, I will block you. 

FREE PALESTINE - DAILY CLICKS

|| Gin's 2K Fic Rec Extravaganza -- send in your asks now! ||

AO3 | Kofi

Most Recent Fics

Something in the Orange - Joel Miller x OFC - angst + smut

Scandal - Dieter Bravo x f!reader - Forced proximity + The Oscars + smut

Bittersweet - Javier Peña x f!reader - smut + mild angst

The Spreadsheet Digest (fic recs)

Request Guidelines

Helpful Tags

Fanfic Events

Prompt Fills

Character Masterlists

Dave York

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Ezra

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Happy Reading!

#masterlist #about my blog #intro #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #nav

[trulybetty]

Sunday | Week In Review I

So in order to try and be consistent with this, I’ve kept a running Notes page open to keep track of my week.

As I mentioned last week, I don’t expect this every week, I am me. But I am going to keep trying to make an effort to support my fellow creators.

If there’s something you’ve enjoyed this week, please feel to reblog this and tag me so I can check it out and share 💙

Also, not that I feel it needs to be said, but this is a reflection of what I have personally read and enjoyed.

B x

Truly Betty Updates This Week…

New York Part I (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Fics I Enjoyed This Week…

Conversations with a Movie Star | Chapter 1 by @gnpwdrnwhiskey Even if you’re not a fan of Dieter Bravo, the dialogue in this alone is worth checking out this opening chapter for this new fic. Ava is an OFC down on her luck after being fired, from her families paper no less, and has stumbled across the Bravo Inn… I’ll let Lellen’s writing do the rest

Stripper Jack Trilogy | P. III by @psychedelic-ink The conclusion of maybe the definitive trilogy of trilogies? I don’t think anyone had Stripper Jack on their 2023 bingo cards, but he’s earned his space and I won’t have any arguments on it. 

Hungry Hearts | Chapter by @atinylittlepain Not many Joel AU’s I’ll jump into, but Bruce Springsteen and Joel Miller? Signed myself the fuck up for that as soon as it was announced. The unfolding of Joel and Cherry's relationship in the summer of '86 against them running back into one another 17 years later is such a great dynamic. 

Fall Apart Again | Chapter 1 + 2 by @wildemaven Heidi spoiled us this week, with not one, but TWO chapters of her new Joel fanfic. I don’t think I’ve gotten so emotional over an opening chapter to a fic before like I did with this one! Then the second chapter? Just bury me now… but actually don’t, I want to see the end of this fic first!

The Layover | Chapter 9 by @goodwithcheese How did Megan describe her fanfics? Hallmark movies with smut? She's not wrong. This whole series so far has been a rollercoaster of emotions and keeps delivering each week without fail. Not only are you rooting for Reader + Frankie, but Jules and Santiago anyone? Or maybe just Jules herself because she's just the boss.

Late Night Texts | Chapter 9 by @mvtthewmurdvck I think it's safe to say it's fanfics like Late Night Texts that have got me back in my rom-com/hopeless romantic era. I don't want to give too much away if you've not had the pleasure of reading this - but it has all the hallmarks of a good rom-com set on the backdrop of the early 2000s and with Javier Peña. If you're like me and still trying to make your way through Narcos or haven't watched it yet - please don't let it stop you, you won't be sorry!

A Little FaceTime by @stardustandskycrystals I’m still thinking about this fic days later and may have gone back to read it again. Trust me, just read this - you don’t need an explanation or reason, just read it. Even if Javi isn’t your jam (wasn’t on my list before, that’s all changed now) - it won’t disappoint!

Things I’m Looking Forward to Starting…

Decoherence by @prolix-yuy Westworld and Jack ‘Agent Whiskey’ Daniels crossover, yes, please! It is also reminding me that I never finished season one and should do something about it…

Pleased to Meet You by @intheorangebedroom This is a constant on my dash and on my TBR pile for a while with so many good comments - also getting into my Frankie era, so it’s perfect timing!

The Pilot & His Girl by @avastrasposts Been waiting to savour this one! So you’ve got the Last of Us and you’ve got Triple Frontier, two of my favourite things… what happens when you mush them together? You get a wild ride through the outbreak with Frankie & Reader - I cannot wait to get into this!

Visiting by @ladamedusoif This is another regular on my dash and on my TBR that I’m hoping to get stuck into this week. A college AU of Mr. Ben from the SNL sketch. Fully fleshed out and on the backdrop of New England, I’m ready to get swept away with this promise of a slow burn.

The House by @gemmahale A Jack Daniels x OFC (Best Friend) series coming soon focusing on a long-lost friendship, an inheritance, and Jack sounding like the scallion he is? Cannot wait.

Posts I Enjoyed This Week…

@rhoorl’s announcement of their Triple Frontier AU, Delta Landscaping with mood board and logo! The residents of Tumblr won’t know what’s hit the neighbourhood when they roll into town! 

Thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey I will never look at baby hippos without thinking of Dieter Bravo

Everyone’s participation in the WIP poll tag game, it was so fun to see my dash just filled with so many creative people and so many amazing ideas! It was a neat peek into everyone’s draft folders!

Things I’ve Enjoyed This Week…

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse - FINALLY got to see it this week, and it did not disappoint. Have not stopped thinking about it since!

My rom-com era has returned, and I’m deep into embracing my forgotten love of a good rom-com. So far this week it’s been The Lake House, You’ve Got Mail & Always Be My Baby. Also it gave way to a Keanu Reeves appreciation post, come share your favourite Keanu!

This Week’s Song… Went waaaayyyy back for this one, an amazing album too - the Sterephonics are one of my favourite bands of all time 🩶

Hope everyone has a great Sunday & here's to a new week!

Please feel free to share your own favourites from the week or what you're looking forward to this week - not a tag game, so no pressure for you to share if you're not feeling it ❤️ xx

#betty's sunday in review #not sold on the name #but I have a touch of sun stroke #so this is as imaginative as we're getting right now #Spotify

[pascalispretty]

Kinktober Schedule

AN: Hey all! Dropping this as a way to try to keep myself accountable; I'm taking part in Kinktober this year, using the prompts from @absurdthirst's list. Writing for a few new characters/fandoms too! LMK if you'd like to be tagged.

Day One: Sex Toys, Nick Amaro x Reader

Day Two: Virginity, Din x Reader

Day Three: Rimming, Nick Amaro x Reader

Day Four: Overstimulation, Javier Peña x Reader

Day Five: Face-sitting, Sonny Carisi x Reader

Day Six: Leash and Collar, Miguel Galindo x Reader

Day Seven: Somnophilia, Joel x Reader

Day Eight: Sex Pollen, Dom!Din x Reader

Day Nine: Squirting/Cumshots, Javier Peña x Reader x OFC

Day Ten: Anal Sex, Kissing & Crying, Miguel Galindo x Reader

Day Eleven: Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Daemon Targaryen x Reader x Rhaenyra (Modern AU)

Day Twelve: Orgasm Denial/Control, Lingerie & Role Reversal, Joel x Reader

Day Thirteen: Wrist Restraints, Sonny Carisi x Reader

Day Fourteen: Uniform, Nick Amaro x Reader

Day Fifteen: Spanking/Flogging/Whipping/Caning, Joel x Reader

Day Sixteen: Speech/Movement Restriction, Din x Reader

Day Seventeen: Breath Control, Din x Reader

Day Eighteen: Bloodplay, Joel x Reader

Day Nineteen: Biting/Scratching, Marking, Joel x Reader

Day Twenty: Thighfucking, Joel x Reader

Day Twenty-One: Hair Pulling, Nick Amaro x Reader

Day Twenty-Two: Sexual Exhaustion, Javier Peña x Reader

Day Twenty-Three: Fancy Dress, Sonny x Reader

Day Twenty-Four: Bratty Sub, Joel x Reader

Day Twenty-Five: Daddy Dom, Miguel Galindo x Reader

Day Twenty-Six: Crying, Joel x Reader

Day Twenty-Seven: Wax Play, Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader

Day Twenty-Eight: Temperature Play, Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Day Twenty-Nine: Pregnancy, Miguel Galindo x Reader

Day Thirty: Gape/Fisting, Double Penetration, Javier Peña x Reader x OFC

Day Thirty-One: Free for All (Student/Teacher), Mr. Ben x Reader

#kinktober 2023 #nick amaro #sonny carisi #mr ben snl #din djarin #daemon targaryen #joel miller #javier pena #miguel galindo

[radiowallet]

Hi! Funny Girl was my comfort fic and I understand why you took it down but i’m struggling without having my comfort fic to read before bed. Do you have any other suggestions that I could try to take it’s place?

Oh, nonnie! First of all, thank you for understanding. That means a lot.

Second, as someone with a ton of comfort fic reading, I so get this. Sometimes you needs something comfortable and familiar and soothing to be there for you. I've got a few I've listed beneath the cut. Some old. Some new. Some with Dieter and others with other Pedro characters. I hope they can bring you some comfort the way they have for me.

(As always, heed all warnings on the masterlist for each fic)

Dieter Comfort Fics

Stay on the Screenplay by Jazzelsaur on AO3

Consent by @fuckyeahdindjarin

Psychomanteum by @whatsnewalycat

We Fall Like Snow by @psychedelic-ink

Newer Comfort Fics

Visiting by @ladamedusoif (Mr. Ben x OFC)

Palamino by @fuckyeahdindjarin (Jack Daniels x F!reader)

Move Me, Baby by @psychedelic-ink (Jack Daniesl x F!reader)

Old Standbys

Between the Raindrops by Jazzelsaur on AO3 (Frankie Morales x OFC)

Strongest Member of the Team by @blueeyesatnight (Marcus Moreno x F!reader)

Notes on Tutoring by @honestly-shite (Dave York x F!reader)

Good. Things. Take. Time. by @oonajaeadira

#comfort fics #funny girl ask #fic recs

[ladamedusoif]

Visiting - Overview and Masterlist

(moodboard by the wonderful @cutesyscreenname)

*cross-posted on AO3*

*Series In Progress*

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

About Lydia: A couple of years ago she'd have told you her life was over. Now, at 41, Lydia has realised the future is hers to make - even if that means never opening her heart up again.

She's an art historian and European - though this should not be taken to imply a specific appearance or ethnicity! Her family and other aspects of her background are established.

You'll notice that the physical descriptors for Lydia are deliberately loose, other than: her age, that she's fem/AFAB, her hair is starting to grey, and she's got stretch marks and a whole metric ton of issues with her own body. In other words: she can look whatever way you want her to look in your own imagination, bearing these aspects in mind, and be from wherever you want her to come from.

Rating: Explicit (18+) - individual chapters will have their own ratings (there's a lot of fluff and angst ahead) but smut will be very clearly signalled. Expect bad language throughout. If you read beyond the warnings on each chapter, you are agreeing you're 18 years or older.

Content: Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (she is 41 and Ben 47 when the story begins); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; explicit smut (eventually); discussion of infidelity and emotional abuse; discussion of self-esteem issues; references to body issues; strong language; alcohol; I'll update if I need to as the fic continues

A/N: My love for Mr Ben is well-known but I couldn't stop thinking about him as a literature professor and, well, here we are. This is my first fic, and it's written as an AU with nary a sprinkling of canon about a character who existed for five minutes in a sketch. Make it make sense, Rose.

This is going to be a multi-chapter series (I have a plan and an outline document and everything). I plan to add some headcanons for Professor Benjamin at some point, and will pop some little drabbles in amongst the full chapters.

There will be smut - but this is a slow-burner. You have been warned.

Main Series:

Chapter 1 - The Visitor

Chapter 2 - Bright in the Sea

Chapter 3 - Ghosts

Chapter 4 - Save Me

Chapter 5 - This Must Be The Place

Chapter 6 - If You'd Accept Surrender

Chapter 7 - Forget Who We Are

Chapter 8 - Sister Winter

Chapter 9 - Open Your Eyes

Chapter 10 - Something About You

Chapter 11 - My Favourite Work of Art

Chapter 12 - If I Must Have A Future

Chapter 13 - Coming Soon!

One-Shots and Drabbles:

An Inspecteur Calls: A Pedrotober One-Shot

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Thanks: to the people who made me feel less bonkers for developing an entire world around Ben and Lydia - @cutesyscreenname, headcanon collaborator, moodboard creator, and Prof Benjamin E. Morales enabler supreme; the incredibly encouraging, kind, and heroic fic writers whose understanding of how to embrace the sensitive and emotional hidden side of 'canonical' characters is an inspiration - @lunapascal, @imaswellkid, @julesonrecord

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more)

#visiting fic #visiting masterlist #mr ben snl #professor ben x OFC #mr ben #pedro pascal character fanfic #mr ben x ofc #pedro pascal fanfiction #new fic announcement

[greensleeves888]

Widow's Pique- Chapter 30

Overview: Penny is a 41 year old mother of one, existing day to day in the normal world until a chance encounter changes everything, for everyone.

Author’s Notes: Hey Tumblrs! So this is my first ever story (not counting the shit I created at school). So be easy on me! I apologise for any typos, and for my misunderstanding of basic punctuation. This story has a little bit of Yours Truly woven into it. It’s a slow burn, full of angst, inner monologues, and insecurities but promises a happy ending of sorts! Using just my imagination and countless hours “researching” Mr. Cavill, I hope I can portray a different side to this fascinating man. Please indulge me …

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Plus Size/Curvy OFC (Penny) Chapter: 30 of ?

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Angst. Pregnancy. Sex.

Disclaimers: This is all fiction baby!

Over 18’s only. No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material, and claiming it as your own.

MASTERLIST

Big kisses in advance for your Re-blogs, Comments, and Likes - they mean SO much to me xxx

There is a Spotify playlist that accompanies this story - to listen click here

Penny grabbed so tightly onto Henry's hand that he snapped his head towards her, mouthing the words 'Are you ok?' as they walked up the steps to the school playground. She felt like a cowboy entering a swing door saloon in a Western. So many pairs of eyes watching them. Shocked by Henry's presence and Penny's unhidden stomach.

Amidst the hushed atmosphere, small pre-schoolers whizzed around on their scooters, tugged on their mothers leggings and fussed in their push chairs as the mostly female crowd studied the pair as they walked towards the back of the school.

Julia trotted over, in impractically high heels to dramatically display her friendship with Penny.

"Henry, this is Julia, Jules - Henry."

Her theatrics increased as she air-kissed both of Henry's cheeks "So nice to finally meet you Henry, my goodness you're even bigger than I'd remembered" as she held her beautifully manicured hand against his chest and giggled.

Penny snorted quietly as a few more mums sidled up to introduce themselves.

Before long, several selfies had been taken and Henry had thoroughly charmed the school mums with his witty banter and public displays of affection with Penny. Her light grey shirred summer dress clung to her ample chest and flowed over her bump. The empire waistline making her pregnancy unmistakeable now. Most had just stared, but on seeing Henry proudly holding her tummy and rubbing it casually as he chatted, Penny began to receive several congratulations and smiles.

As the children flowed out, the noise level returned and Henry had another wave of selfie requests from Mums feeling braver now that they could use their children as an excuse to get close to the actor.

Ben's class was one of the last to be dismissed. In true 8 year old fashion he barrelled up to Penny with his book bag, water bottle and lunch bag before realising Henry was there.

Ben sprung up into his arms, gripping Henry with all of his might. "Missed you Bud," Henry whispered as Ben continued to cling to him.

"Daddy Henry, you came back!" he squealed, his eyes shut and his grubby hands gripping the back of Henry's t-shirt.

"I always come back buddy, never forget that."

It was Henry's turn to grip Penny's hand tightly as they sat in the warm darkness of the ultrasound room. Pre-warmed gel was squirted onto Penny's tummy as the doctor fiddled and scrolled with one hand and lifted and twisted the wand in the other, pushing hard against Penny's firm stomach.

"Does that hurt honey?" Henry asked, hoping it would make the consultant press more lightly.

"It's fine Hen, just relax."

The fast swooshing of the baby's heartbeat filled the room as tears flowed down Henry's cheeks. When the screen showed the head and then quickly the legs as the baby wriggled inside. Henry let out a strange noise. Penny turned to see his ugly crying face again, she couldn't help but giggle.

"Oh, Hen, makes it seem so much more real doesn't it?" as she squeezed harder on his hand as he smiled, unable to speak.

"So, are we wanting to know the gender?" The doctor asked, looking over the top of his glasses. Both Henry and Penny nodded anxiously as the doctor flicked the wand and repositioned the view.

"If you take a look here, baby is clearly showing us that she is a little girl, lovely," he smiled at them both as Penny shuddered with happy tears.

"My girls." Henry managed as he rubbed Penny's forearm. Desperately trying to hold back his own tears without success.

After Penny was wiped, sat up and sorted out, the Consultant ran through the options for the labour and delivery. Henry asked so many questions, Penny was impressed with his level of understanding and his sweet protective manner over her wellbeing. She still wasn't convinced that she needed to be in London for the delivery, but didn't want to have that argument in front of the doctor.

On leaving the hospital they were both anxious about being papped, so opted for separate cars. Henry didn't want to risk stressing Penny out with any attention from the press, despite wanting to shout his excitement from the rooftops. The cars met up again outside Henry's parents house, Henry waiting to help Penny out, like the gentleman he always was.

Marianne had become very protective over Penny since her spell in hospital, fussing over her more than she ever did her boys. Penny's fears over Henry's family disapproving of their surprise addition were completely unfounded and their excitement at the new arrival was palpable.

"Oh Penny, just look at you." Marianne swept towards Penny, embracing the sides of her stomach, then pulling her in for one of her trademark hugs.

Colin slapped Henry on the back in a proud and congratulatory manner, ushering him into the kitchen after the ladies.

Before she knew it, Penny was sat down in the window seat being shown pictures of Henry as a baby. His eyes were unmistakeable even then.

"Oh my goodness, he was adorable Marianne, such a chubby little thing too!"

"Ha, yes, he was like a little sumo wrestler with all those little rolls. He was 10lb 6oz too! Good job he wasn't my first or I wouldn't have tried again." Marianne instantly regretted her words and placed a hand on Penny's knee. "I'm sure this little one won't be that big my dear."

Penny sat back, gripping her belly and looking down. "I don't know Marianne, they're measuring big, and I feel a lot bigger than I did with Ben.

At that point Henry and Colin entered the room with tea and biscuits.

"Mum, really?! Not the baby album." he cringed, kissing Penny on the top of her head as he sat down next to her.

"His brothers nicknamed him Jabba, you can see why now can't you?!" Colin joked as Henry closed up the album whilst giving his own father the stink eye.

Henry leaned into Penny's stomach, cupping his hands together.

"Don't listen to Pops little one, he's getting sarcastic in his old age. Your big brother is going to be nothing but nice to you."

Penny blushed at Henry's soppiness in front of his parents. Marianne gazed happily at them both. Penny felt a little uncomfortable with the attention.

The conversation changed towards their earlier consultants appointment. Penny decided to broach the subject of not having the baby in London.

"It's not that I don't like the hospital Henry, it's just that it's so far from home and they're not worried about anything. In fact recently I've been considering a home birth."

"No." Henry abruptly stated. "Out of the question."

"Henry!" Marianne reproached. "There's nothing wrong with home-birthing. I had Charlie at home and it was perfectly safe. Alex was a home birth, and Poppy too!"

Penny was shocked by Henry's attitude and her emotions quickly bubbled up. She breathed deeply to try and quell her tears. She swallowed and continued. "I'm just considering it at the moment, but as I'm the one who has to squeeze a person out of me I think I get to choose where and how."

Henry cringed at his reaction. "I'm sorry Pen. I, just want you and the baby to be safe."

"Well that's my preference too honey. Remember, I've done this before ok?"

Colin squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, not wanting to get involved in any arguments.

"More tea?" he offered, changing the subject.

Driving back home they were both quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Henry didn't like it when plans were changed, he felt uneasy and a little panicked thinking his daughter could be born without a doctor nearby.

Penny was still smarting from Henry's bolshy attitude earlier, she hated being treated like she didn't know her own mind.

Henry knew he'd upset her, but he also thought she was being a little naive and selfish perhaps. Not that he would dare say that to her. His brothers were right when they'd warned him not to cross a pregnant woman, Penny certainly was quick to snap back at him lately. He actually found it quite endearing, in fact everything she did lately made his heart melt. Her little waddle, her many cushions in the bed, putting on her shoes, even getting in the car. Seeing her carrying their baby was truly fascinating to him and made him feel so unbelievably proud and protective of her.

He reach over and placed his hand on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I love you Penny Green, do you know that?"

Penny smiled, turning to look at him as he kept his eyes on the road ahead. A warm smile on his handsome face.

She gripped his hand, then ran it up along his shirt sleeve to his shoulder as he grabbed her hand again he brought it to his lips and kissed it.

Penny was 28 weeks pregnant now and feeling it. She knew that being an older mum would be hard work, but some days all she wanted to do was float in the tub. Henry was ridiculously attentive though, to the point where she was pretty sure he would bathe, dress and feed her if she let him.

She looked at her crinkled fingertips and decided she needed to leave the bath, heaving herself forward as her aching bones protested. On cue, Henry appeared, grasping her under her arms and taking her weight as she climbed out, embarrassed that she was becoming so reliant on his help already.

"Thanks Hen, it's ok though, I can still get out of the bath honey." she smiled.

"I know Pen, I was just here so thought I'd lend a hand", he was aware that he was fussing too much and worried that he was driving her nuts in doing so.

"Did you decide what you are going to wear yet honey?" He asked tentatively.

It seemed that every day there was a new delivery of something or other baby or pregnancy related. Henry seemed hell bent on buying every gadget, gismo and toy for their little girl, as well as cute outfits for Penny. Henry was living out his fantasy as Penny indulged his love of seeing her dress up for him. He couldn't get enough of her new sexy shape and her growing bump. She suspected her tiredness was in part due to Henry's increased libido, which was pretty healthy beforehand. Not that she was complaining, the constant adoration and manhandling was doing wonders for Penny's confidence. She hadn't even needed much persuading to have a photoshoot with one of Henry's favourite photographers.

Penny chose a cute button front emerald green dress with a scoop neck, high waistline and delicate puffed sleeves. She also let him chose two more outfits for her. Knowing how much enjoyment he was getting from it.

She finished her makeup and carefully pulled the dress over her head. The fabric was thin, stretchy and beautifully soft. She moaned quietly at the sensation as she smoothed and pulled the dress into the right position. Even she couldn't stop brushing her hands over her large stomach, feeling especially sensitive lately.

With a final fluff of her curls she headed downstairs to join Henry, the photographer and his assistant. Henry stopped mid sentence as he spotted Penny on the stairs. Neil and Abby followed his gaze as they all watched Penny gracefully but carefully descend the last two steps.

"And here she is, Neil, Abby. This is my Penny"

Penny felt flushed with the attention, but mostly Henry's intense, loving but licentious stare. He even licked his lips, making Penny shudder slightly with excitement. She hoped the shoot wouldn't take too long, she desperately needed to be alone with him.

At first Penny felt a little self conscious posing for photos around the house and garden. Henry of course was a natural, loving the intimate poses, knowing how great the shots would look already. Nick was a real sweetheart, so generous with his praise and flattery that by the end of the shoot Penny almost felt like a model.

"Oh Penny, you are just gonna love these shots. Those last ones against the door - mmm - just divine."

"Thanks Nick, I'm glad you got some you're happy with." she added as Henry kissed the side of her head for the hundredth time that day.

By the time the equipment was packed away and farewells were said Penny flopped down on the sofa to rest her aching feet. Henry was quick to offer a foot rub as he grinned up at her.

"What?" she asked, wondering what was so funny.

"Can't a man just enjoy rubbing his wife's feet my love?"

"Not as much as you seem to be Mr Cavill. Plus, I'm not your wife yet, merely your fiancee."

Henry detected an undertone to her statement.

"There is nothing mere about being my betrothed young lady." He ran his warm hand slowly up her calf muscle, to behind her thigh under her dress, finishing at her large, soft behind. He crawled up towards her carefully, slowly kissing her thigh, her stomach, her arms, her neck and then her lips.

Penny ran her fingers through his growing curls, thickened but still soft with product. She began unbuttoning his shirt. He watched her fingers then looked up at her with quizzical eyebrows.

"Frisky again Mrs Green? You will be the death of me." he growled as he knelt up to undo his jeans and Penny sat up to continue with his shirt. Henry helped her to stand as he deftly pulled her dress up over her head and her knickers down. Carefully allowing her to get her balance as she stepped out of them. He remained crouched below her, looking up at her beautiful round stomach. As much as he couldn't wait to meet their daughter he would miss her like this, and wondered if she would consider more children after.

"You." he spoke between kisses "Are. The. Most. Sexiest. Woman. I. Have. Ever. Met."

Penny was already super aroused. His words, his kisses, his warm breath on her skin sent shockwaves of delight through her. She'd removed her bra and played with her nipples as Henry swept two fingers through her folds and lewdly licked his fingers clean. She pulled him up and kissed him so fiercely he almost lost his balance. Her nails clawed at his back. Her large firm stomach pushed against his newly softened one. Henry's hands slid all over her, grabbing at her, squeezing at her. He found her breasts again and sucked her swollen nipples into his hungry mouth, his tongue swirling as she moaned in exquisite pleasure.

"Hen, I need you, inside me, now."

He chuckled, loving her desperation "Oh my beautiful girl, does someone want Daddy's cock inside them?"

Penny was too far gone to chuckle at his words, she was ready to beg if he asked.

"Please, yes, please Daddy, I need your cock. I need it now. Fuck me, fuck me hard."

Henry's dick twitched at her words. He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around.

"Lean forward, kneel on the sofa." he ordered. "'kay?" he quickly checked to make sure she was comfy. Again Henry ran his fingers through Penny's sex, using her wetness to smear over his steel hard dick. This position had proved very successful for them recently now that Penny was too big for some of their other favourite positions.

"Henry, now!" Penny shouted as Henry smirked at her bossiness.

"Yes my princess. Uh. Take. Daddy's cock. In your. Uh. Tight. Little. Pussy"

Penny loved his dirty talk, each time she pushed him to say filthier things to her. He treated her so gently at every other time she craved the contrast when they were intimate. To hear such a polite, charming man say such dirty, erotic words was such a turn on for Penny.

The sound of his hips slapping against Penny's backside filled the house. she shouted for him to go harder and faster. Henry worried he might hurt her but also desperately wanted to satisfy. Not wanting to upset Penny, he upped his pace and energy.

"Fuck, Hen, so, fucking, good. I'm so close, so, so close…, please"

Henry's nostrils flared as sweat poured down his reddened face. Concentrating so hard not to disappoint her and come first.

Penny braced herself against the back of the sofa, head down, watching everything jolt with Henry's vigour.

Neither of them spoke as they both concentrated on Penny's climax. Henry bit deep into his bottom lip as he readjusted his grip of Penny's hips.

She roared as the ecstasy washed over her, Henry gratefully joining her in his release. Relieved that he managed to hold out. They slowly rocked together, as the electric pulses ebbed away and they became aware of their surroundings again.

"Thank you honey, I - I really needed that." Penny whispered shyly.

Henry kissed her back as his warm hands found their way to her stomach, rubbing it gently as he caught his breath.

"Lets get cleaned up and I'll make us some lunch mama" Henry gathered up their clothing and offered his hand to lead a pink faced Penny upstairs.

Tiredness washed over her as Henry clipped up her hair and turned on the shower. Guiding her again, he held the shower head and ran the soothing warm water over her body before doing the same himself. Penny's blinks became slower and slower as Henry washed her. Wanting to savour every moment, but knowing how tired she was, he had to be quick.

Once showered he sat her down and dried her off. Her eyes were completely closed now, she was totally at his will as he gently rubbed her soft skin. After quickly drying himself he picked her up and placed her on top of the covers, making sure he propped her onto her side with her many pillows. He stood for several moments watching her sleep, committing this moment to memory. Consumed by such a powerful feeling of love and contentment. Knowing he would do absolutely anything for the woman sleeping before him.

An hour later Henry sat on the armchair, thinking back to their earlier fun, but also Penny's words about 'merely being his fiancee'. He was desperate to call her his wife, he tried to imagine their wedding, the potential intrusion from the press, the reaction of his fans. He just couldn't risk upsetting Penny by even discussing it at the moment. He daydreamed about seeing her walk down the aisle, flowers in her hair, freckles on her nose… a creak from upstairs woke him from his musings.

Penny tried on her new striped jersey dress and was surprised at how well it fitted, sure her arse looked huge, her tummy was huge and her boobs, well, they were ridiculous, but sod it, she was pregnant and there was no disguising it now so she might as well embrace it! A small voice at the back of her head whispered, you sure about this hun? Before an even louder one told it to fuck off.

Downstairs she found a puppy eyed Henry, retrieving lunch from the fridge.

"My word Penelope, you are spoiling me today." he growled as her reached for her waist.

"This? It's just something casual for the school run Hen!"

"Hmm.." he pondered, spinning her around for inspection.

"What, is it too clingy?"

"It certainly fits where it touches Pen, that's why I like it so much." he began kissing her neck as his hands roamed her backside.

"Mr. Cavill, that's enough of that! You have a hungry pregnant woman before you, it's practically an emergency." she quipped as she wiggled towards the dining table.

Penny smirked at the Mrs Cavill mug that Henry always liked to use for her. Holding it up to toast her handsome chef as he glugged from his sports bottle. Henry paused and almost made a Mrs Cavill comment, but thought better of it. Penny noticed his apprehension.

"What is it Cavill, fess up. I can tell when you want to say something."

"What? I'm just having a drink."

"Fine, don't tell me then." she half joked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

"It's, it's." shit - he thought, why am I even saying anything? "I was thinking about what you said earlier, about 'merely' being my fiancee. You know I'd marry you tomorrow if I could Pen."

Penny continued to side eye him, wondering what he wasn't saying.

Henry continued under Penny's intense glare. "I know that you didn't want to have a child out of wedlock, and weddings are complicated, and hard to keep under wraps from the press. The last thing I want is to cause you any additional stress at the moment, my love."

"What are you saying Henry?"

"Nothing really, I seem just to have random words coming from my mouth at the moment without making much sense. I, I, just want you to be my wife. I want you to feel secure and safe and, and proper. Shit, I shouldn't have said anything."

"Henry, are you trying to say that you want to get married before the baby arrives?" Penny sat back in her seat, subconsciously rubbing her stomach.

"No, honey, it's a terrible idea, not enough time, too much stress. We need to focus on little legs arrival. I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry, I want this too Hen. But there's no way we can find a venue, a dress, organise the reception in such a short space of time. I don't want to be going into labour and getting married on the same day hun."

"I don't care about the party, or the venue. I just want to be your husband. If you really want this too Pen, I can make it happen - you wouldn't need to lift a finger - unless you wanted to of course. I just don't want to stress you out honey."

Penny blew out her deep breath, "Ok, let's do it."

"Really? You really want to Pen?" Henry stood up, his hands reaching behind his head in excitement.

"Definitely, as long as you don't mind me waddling down the aisle looking like a marshmallow."

"Come here." Henry beckoned as he walked around the table to her. "Let's go get ourselves hitched Mrs Green."

Authors Comments It seems every time I post a chapter I have to apologise - this time has been the longest gap between chapters - for which I am so sorry. My life has been very chaotic, with far too many distractions. I do hope you enjoyed reading about this goofy pair again as they prepare for parenthood as a couple. Thank you all for your patience xxx

Read Chapter 31 Here

#henry cavill #the cavillry #widows pique widows peek #widows pique #widows peek #henry cavill fantasy #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #pregnant #henry cavill x plus size ofc #henry cavill x pregnant reader

[skyfallslayer]

The Devils Are Caught In Red Strings || Chapter 3: Rabbit In A Snowstorm

-Matt Murdock x Parker!OFC-

Series Masterlist

AO3 Link

♡Series Summary: Childhood friendships are a sacred thing... But so are secrets. This story revolves around a girl named Anya Hughes, an attorney by day and a vigilante by night. Join her into the struggles she’ll face, like her path coming back to haunt her, then facing a man who holds all the power, all while she develops a crush on her close friend. How long can she take all this until she falls apart? ♡

♡Chapter Summary: The lawyers take on a mysterious wealthy client, but Matt’s convinced there’s more to this case than just facts. Meanwhile, Anya deals with strange occurrences happening in her life. ♡

♡Date: 2/8 ♡

♡Rating: Explicit ♡

♡Word Count: 9,941 ♡

♡Warning: Minor Blood; Violence, Language; Sexist Comments; Suicide Near The End; Lying; Implied Stalking/Stalker; Hush Money; Talks of Murder; References To Being Killed/Almost Dying; Blackmail; implied panic Attack; Spoilers for the show; Canon Typical Violence; READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! ♡

♡A/N: So this one is a little bit shorter than I normally write. Probably because I cut out some scenes with Ben Urich that I didn't feel was necessary to write about. Even though this shorter, I feel like this where the true fun begins as Fisk enters the Vigilantes' radars. Enjoy!♡

There was bloody flesh beneath her fingertips; the crusting over wound was still present on her collarbone. She frowns, already opening the medicine cabinet for disinfectant and a clean bandage. 

Thought it’ll be healed by now. Must have been deeper than I thought. She realizes with a worried feeling.

Last night… sucked. Her retrieval mission was a bust, then she’s temporarily blinded, then meets a nurse who knows who she is, THEN she runs into a pain in the ass vigilante that she for some reason came up with the idea to work together (To an extent, that is). 

I sure hope he compromises like promised. She finishes with the patch up, picking her phone up off the counter and walks into her room where her clothes are laid out gently on the bed. While getting ready she listens to the news on her phone, hopefully pleading that it’ll be good on that side of the city.

.

{ - Avengers are holding a party at Stark Tower later this week, and the paparazzi are dying to get a peek inside. But how do you sneak into a place like that? - }

.

Anya rolls her eyes while buttoning her blouse.

No matter where you are in this city, they always wiggle their way into the news.

.

{ - In other news that’s rather unfortunate, the city of Queens is losing its charity group, F.E.A.S.T– - }

.

Her movements faltered into a complete stop. Did she just… hear that right?

.

{ - The city’s councilmen decided it would be best to close up for good after not being able to raise enough money. Queens Local helper, Maybelle Parker, expresses her deep sadness that she’ll not be able to help out anymore after doing this since she was teenager. Other locals are expressing their own– - }

.

Anya turns her phone off with a deep frown. That was not the best news to start off her day. Especially when she knew that local… personally. She bites gently on the tip of her thumb, thinking.

Maybe I could send her some money anonymously? But she immediately swatted that idea away when she realized if she could give some of her inheritance money away it wouldn’t be enough to keep that place open.

She sighs, shaking her head before another light bulb goes off.

Speaking of money…

She finishes getting dressed, grabbing her bag, slipping on her heels by the door to leave. She took a quick trip down the elevator and a sharp turn for her landlord’s office, her hand wiggling around inside her bag’s pocket. 

“Mr. Hawthorne.” She calls out, getting his attention just as he was coming out.

“Ah, Miss Hughes. What can I do for you?” The older man asked, smiling gently.

“Just giving you the rent for the month.” She replies, fishing out the already written out check. To her complete surprise, he declines.

“No need, Miss Hughes. Your rent’s already covered.”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Yeah, a gentleman came by and paid for it.”

“Who?”

“Didn’t catch a name. But he was nicely dressed in a suit and tie. Says he was a friend of yours.”

She blinks again. “Huh…”

She wasn’t expecting that either this morning as she pinched her brows together in thought.

Why would they pay my rent?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

A car pulls in close to another one, getting a clear look at the Hudson river only a few feet away. The sharp dressed man gets out of his car, slowly approaching the person he’s supposed to meet.

His guest looked at him with surprise. “Thought you'd forgotten about me, Urich.” He said with a smoker’s voice.

The man chuckles. “Never happen.”

“I don't know. People's memories these days ain't so good.” He sighs, before pointing to the city lined up in front of him over the water. “Back in the day, I couldn't wait to see this view. Me and the boys, driving in Friday nights. Kings of the castle.”

“Kings don't have bodies in the trunk.”

“Tell that to Macbeth.”

Another laugh. “What's this about you moving to Florida?”

“Did you hear about Rigoletto?” The man asked.

“Heard he retired.” Urich replies.

“Yeah… in pieces.”

Urich’s joyful expression faded into something concerning. “Somebody putting it to you?”

“You know the rules.”

“Is it the Russians?”

“The rules. You go first… and then maybe I got something to say. That's the way it's always been.”

Urich nods in understanding. “Russians got a bee up their ass. Somebody's been hitting them… hard. Mostly around the docks.”

“Wasn't Rigoletto, if that’s what you're thinking.” The man said, frowning.

“So who are we looking at?”

“You tell me.”

“I don't know. Been scratching at it. Police reports get altered. Public records, too. But I know a pattern when it shoves a thumb in my eye.” Urich pauses to think. “A new player, maybe?”

The man sighs. “Used to be if you killed a man, you sent his wife flowers. Now they just send his wife with him.”

That got his interest piqued. “You know something, don't you?”

“Yeah. Florida's beautiful this time of year.”

Urich sighs. “The rules.”

The man shakes his head. “There are no rules, Benny. Not anymore.”

“So that's it? That's all I get?”

“You know, when I went away to do my 10, every newspaper in town dragged my name through the shit. You were the only one who did it… without mentioning my kids.” He gets choked up at the thought. “Always grateful for that.”

“Then give me something.” Urich pleads. “A name, anything.”

“Take a pass on this one, Benny. Some fights will just get you bloody.” He said, patting him on the shoulder to leave.

Leaving the reporter alone with his thoughts and theories.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It seems like everyone’s day was going to start off unusual. Karen arrives early, sitting on her makeshift desk as she stares in shock at a letter addressed for her. She only hides it away when the front door opens.

Foggy closes the door, a look of regret on his face as he holds his coffee cup close. “You know the whole, ‘Let's stay out all night’ thing?” He begins, watching her stand up.

“Yeah.” She begins, plastering an innocent face on, listening.

“How about next time we skip the part with the eel?”

Karen chuckles, nodding. “Deal.”

The door opens again, letting in a tired looking Anya Hughes. “Sounds like you kids had fun.” She teased, coming up to them.

Karen’s genuine smile grew. “Yeah, we did.” Her face dropped into concern immediately. “Hey, you okay?”

Green eyes blinked puzzledly. “Huh?”

“You’re collar bone.” The blonde continues, pointing to her own to make a point.

Anya quickly looks down, spotting the small bandage she thought her shirt covered. She tries not to look flustered as she could feel her friend’s worried gazes. “Oh, yeah. I…” She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know how I did that.”

Foggy snorts. “Cause you’re klutzy, and your mind’s always in the clouds.”

She narrows her eyes, humorously. “You trying to tell me something, Nelson?”

“Maybe…” He trails off, redirecting the conversation to something else. “Hey, what do you think about getting a sign on the door?”

“Well, you got a sign.” Karen replies, her and Anya sending him a look.

“A real one.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms. “You should get some clients first.”

“Just one little sign. What could it cost?”

The response made Karen laugh a little. “Frank, you can barely afford to pay me.”

Foggy raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were working for free.”

“I… I did… for a day.”

Anya sighs. “Fine… I guess we could pay you.” She humors, rolling her eyes for added effect. 

Karen giggles. “Well, thank you. I guess...”

Foggy stares at his college friend. “With what money?”

“I have money, you know.” Anya replies, already seeing him shake his head. 

“No. No. No.” He sets his things down before giving her full attention. “Me and Matt told you that you’re done paying for our business.” He looks back at Karen, getting her into the loop. “She got a crazy amount of inheritance money.”

Anya holds up her hand in defense. “Okay, he’s making me sound like I’m a billionaire, which I am far from being. I just have enough to live comfortably for a few years.”

“Exactly!” He exclaims, walking around. “Which is why I’m not allowing you to blow it all on us. We’ll make something work. I promise.”

Anya rolls her eyes and quickly mouths, “I’ll pay you”, making Karen smile.

Matt soon walks in, doing his usual routine of setting his cane and bag down by the door.

“Hey you know she's not really free?” Foggy asks, earning a light slap on his arm by the blonde. Soon the jokes died down again seeing the giant bruise forming under their blind friend’s eye. “Jesus. What happened to your eye?”

“Oh.” Matt said, slightly off guard by the question.

“Are you okay?” Anya asked, worriedly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just wasn't paying attention last night. It's my fault.”

“Sounds familiar.” Karen said, casting a look at her.

Foggy nods at that, before pointing between the two. “Seriously, what’s with the two of you? I know you’re childhood friends but it’s getting a little weird.” He sighs. “You need a dog, Matt.”

Matt scoffs. “I'm not getting a dog.”

“What? You don't like dogs? Who doesn't like dogs?” He asked, sounding offended (but he just likes the sound of having a dog in the office).

“I… I love dogs.” Karen adds.

“Everybody loves dogs.” Anya finishes.

The blind lawyer shakes his head, seeing through their intentions. Suddenly, there was a firm knock on the door, surprising them all.

“Was that a knock?” Foggy said, everyone looking like a deer in headlights.

“Someone's at the door.” Matt clarifies.

Anya blinks. “Our door?”

“Uh…” He shifts his stance. “Karen?”

It took a blonde a moment to realize that she has a job. She nods slowly. “Right.” She begins, a smile slowly growing. “Okay.”

Her heels clicking over to the door, opening it wide enough to watch their visitor turn around, a sly expression on his face.

“Hi.” He said, coming inside. “Do you do walk-ins?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

They lawyers and the assistant sat at the table in front of their possible, very well mannered and dressed, client talk unafraid about his proposal.

“I represent a consortium with diversified interests in the private sector, both domestic and international. From time to time, we scout the landscape for promising talent to put on retainer.” He explains, which made the Columbia graduates amused.

Foggy chuckles. “Retainer?” He asked, getting a nod of confirmation.

“Why are you approaching us?” Matt asked, quickly with a facade of comfort on his features. “Why not a larger firm, Mr…?”

“Uh, Confederated Global Investments is my employer.” The man replies back hoping to turn this around.

“That's not what I was asking.”

“It's the only name relevant to this discussion, Mr. Murdock.”

“Oh…”

“But, why us?” Anya asked, suspicious as well.

The man opens his mouth to speak, almost surprised by their straightforwardness, but Foggy being the person he is tries to… “polish” his partners words up.

“Ob-Obviously, the larger firms aren't able to… provide the same hands-on attention that we pride ourselves on at Nelson, Hughes and Murdock.” The sandy haired man explains earning another nod from their guest.

“It's a fair question.” He agrees, sitting up straighter. “I'm here because my employer does extensive business in Hell's Kitchen, and who knows it better than three locals who graduated from Columbia Law, cum laude and summa cum laude?

“Uh, the ‘summa’ part is politics.” Foggy said to light the room, which got a laugh.

The man’s smile grows brighter, almost proud at what he was hearing. “You set up shop right here in your backyard despite the fact that all of you were made a very lucrative offer from Landman and Zack in Manhattan where you interned.”

“You've done your homework.” Matt said, his mask going back on after slipping away for a second.

The man shrugs nonchalantly. “My employer expects no less.”

“Then forgive me for being blunt.”

“Uh, ‘B-Blunt’ is a strong word.” Foggy says, nervously.

“In my line of work, I find it refreshing.”

“What is that line of work exactly?” Anya fires back not even hiding her distrusting look.

“What my partners are trying to say is… we're still building a practice, so we're very particular about our clientele.” Foggy intercepts.

“I assure you, all my employer wants is for you to continue to be ethical, decent men and a woman and good lawyers. And for that, for nothing more than your exceptional skills and your discretion…” He reaches into his suit jacket to pull out an envelope, laying it flat on the table and sliding it closer to them. “You'll be fairly compensated.”

Foggy grabs it first, carefully opening it to find a check. It took all his strength to not let his eyes bug out of his head. “Uh-huh. It's… It's fair. That's… that's fair.” He stutters, flashing it to Anya who had the same look when her eyes locked on the numbers.

“Your partner doesn't seem convinced.” The man said, talking about Matt.

“Partners.” Anya corrects.

“Like Foggy said, we're particular about our clientele.” The blind lawyer replies.

The man almost found it funny, and smirked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I'm curious about your… clientele. Do they all end up working for you after you get them off for murder or just the pretty ones?”

The one question shifted the mood in the lawyers, all suddenly hit with a sense of bitterness, protectiveness and (even more) suspicion. They all gripped whatever they were holding tighter as they glared at their guest.

Matt looked in Karen’s direction who seemed uncomfortable about his retort; and calmly asked, “You, uh, give us a minute, please?”

Karen swallows and nods slowly as she gets up from her seat. Her blue eyes were locked onto the floor the whole time as she walked out the door.

Their guest frowns, adjusting his glasses as he looks ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to upset anyone.”

“How did you know about Miss Page's situation?” Matt goes straight to the point. “She was never charged. There was nothing in the papers.”

“I have friends on the force. I hear I'm not the only one.”

Anya tilts her head. “How do you know about that?”

Foggy nervously laughs under his breath. “I think we might be veering off the subject.”

“I understand your concerns, Mr. Murdock, and even to you, Miss Hughes. Perhaps… you should all review one of our cases… before you make a decision? Peace of mind and whatnot.” He said, which Foggy agrees to.

“T-That's a fantastic idea. Guys?”

Anya just shrugs, and Matt replies with, “Yeah, what harm could it do?”

“Excellent.” The man said, joyfully. “You have…” He pulls up his sleeves to look at his Cartier watch. “38 minutes to get to Precinct 15.”

Anya blinks while watching him gather his things. “Pardon?”

“What? Now? What's the case?” Foggy asked, being handed over a folder.

“Everything you need is in this file.” He replies, standing up at the same time the trio did. “Thank you for your time.”

“No. Thank you.”

The man opens the door, pausing briefly to look back at them. “Oh, and Miss Hughes.” He begins, getting her attention. “My condolences. I heard about what happened to your family. They were such lovely people.”

The woman stares at him with confusion as the door closes behind him. She soon felt her friend’s eyes all on her.

“Ann, do you know that man?” Matt asked, with borderline suspicion. 

She shakes her head. “No. I don’t. I mean I… I don’t think so.”

“Okay, I’ll admit that was a little weird, but what is your guys’ problem?” Foggy asked, sounding like a scolding parent. 

“He wouldn't even give us his name, Foggy.” Matt replied.

“You wouldn't care if you could see the zeroes on this check.”

“Yeah, maybe you would if you couldn't.”

“We're running out of time.”

“I'll meet you there.” Matt announces, grabbing his cane as heads for the exit.

Foggy snaps his head in his direction, confused. “Meet me? The hell are you going?” He asked, but was ignored. “Matt!”

“Matt, what the fuck, man?!” Anya yells next just as he was out of the office, disappearing down the hall. She scoffs, running a hand through her curly locks.

“What the fuck crawled up his ass?” 

“I have no idea.”

“I guess we’ll meet him there.” He lets out a heavy sigh as he gathers his own things. “I don’t know how we’re going to get there in less than forty minutes. Jesus.”

“I drove my car. We can just take that.” 

“Oh, thank god, Hughes. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Oh, I try to be.” She starts grabbing her own things, only pausing briefly when she catches a lingering whiff of something.

Do I smell… blood?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, Matt is following a long distance behind the man, following the sound of his ticking watch. Matt only stops when he hears him getting into the car, eavesdropping.

“It's been taken care of, sir.”

Matt thought about pursuing when heard three cars heading off at the same time, but as he moved ever so slightly he could feel the stitches on his right side pop, making crimson stain his pearly white shirt. He clenches his jaw, using his hand to button his jacket back up. He soon spins on his heels, back in the direction where he’ll have to make a quick stop back at his apartment.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Foggy and Anya sat in front of their potential client, who already had a crazy look in his eyes that overlooked his neutral expression. He was still bruised and bloody, which made the two lawyers hide their discomfort. 

“So what exactly happened, Mr. Healy? In your own words.” Foggy begins, watching him carefully.

“All I wanted was to throw a few balls. The lady at the shoe counter will tell you the same.” The man, Mr. Healy said.

Foggy glanced at his notes. “She also says that you crushed the deceased's skull with a bowling ball.”

“Self-defense. The man and his… whatever they were, they threatened my life.”

“They threatened you, how? Verbally? Physically?” Anya asked, getting a reply that shocks her.

“Which sounds better?” He asked with a tilt in his head.

She blinks. “I’m sorry?”

He takes a deep breath, and bats his eyes in an innocent way. “They threatened me both verbally and physically.”

The Lawyers take a quick look at each, both thinking the same thing.

Foggy clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “So… you say you… didn't know or have never met Mr–” He looks at his notes again quickly. “Prohaszka, Prior to last night?”

“No, but I do regret any injurious consequences my actions may have caused.” Healy replies, bluntly.

Foggy decided to humor him a little. “You have quite the legal vocabulary, Mr. Healy. Am I right in assuming this isn't your first rodeo?”

“I had issues.” His lip twitches into a half smile. “I'm better now.”

“Better… how, exactly?” Anya begins, in disbelief. “‘Cause, No offense, Mr. Healy, from your statement, you sound… unstable.”

“I can be as stable as you want, baby. Just give me the word.”

She purses her lips. “Mr. Healy–”

Foggy touches her shoulder to cut her off. “On second thought Mr. Healy,” He starts helping her get up. “Uh, perhaps our firm isn't the right fit for you.”

Suddenly, their third part walked in looking apologetic.

“Sorry I'm late.” Matt says, closing the door.

Foggy clears his throat again, putting his hand up to his friend’s chest for him to stop. “Oh, no, no. I was just explaining to Mr. Healy that, uh, we have a full caseload right now, so we–”

The brunette smiles. “We'd be happy to represent you, Mr. Healy.”

“What?”

“We're taking the case.”

“Matt…” Anya warns but he’s already taking a seat.

The blind man clears his throat, gesturing for their client to start. “Uh, why don't we start from the beginning? Tell me everything you know.”

And he ignores the heavy sighing from his friends.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After a few minutes of retelling the events, they all were settled back down in their chairs; Pens and notebooks in hand once more.

“Would you like us to reiterate the terms of attorney-client privilege, Mr. Healy?” Matt asks, listening.

He blinks innocently again. “Think I got it.”

“Then you know anything you tell us stays in this room.”

“Just like church.”

Matt fought the urge to latch on that comment, but he keeps his head straight, going for the prize. “You must be a very important man.”

“Is that a question?” Healy asked, skeptical.

“Statement. It's not every day a global investment firm picks up the tab for a murder suspect.”

“Self-defense.”

“I wonder if you could shed some light on the man that hired us to represent you.”

“Don't think I can, counselor.”

“Can't or you won't?” Matt pressures, feeling his partners’ eyes on him.

“Maybe we should focus on details pertinent to the case?” Foggy suggested.

“Just trying to build a solid defense, and the connection between Mr. Healy and the man that came to our offices might just help prove his innocence.”

“How?” Anya asked, confused.

Matt chuckles quietly. “Maybe they're old friends. Maybe he's a character witness. Or… maybe you were in his employment at the time of the incident.”

“I just wanted to throw a few balls, just like I keep saying.” Healy said, slowly building up a wall (A wall that everyone could now see clearly).

“You go bowling often, Mr. Healy?” Matt questioned, applying more pressure.

His face twitches. “When the mood hits.” 

“And the deceased, he had no motive that you recall?”

Healy exhales deeply, visibly tightening his muscles. “No.”

“You didn't provoke him intentionally or otherwise?” Foggy asked with a slight tilt in his head. 

“Are we breaking for lunch anytime soon?” Healy asked, gulping down the quiver at the end (Both Anya and Matt picked up at how his heart elevated).

“Are you at all afraid of what might happen if we lose this case, Mr. Healy?” Matt asked, keeping calm.

“No.” Then he smiles, creepily. “Are you?”

Foggy takes a deep breath. “Okay. Matt, Ann, a word, please?” He said, standing up. He stands in a far corner, only whispering what’s on his mind when they show up. “We should not be doing this.”

“Doing what?” Matt asked, ‘unaware’. 

“Defending professional criminals.”

“You're the one that keeps saying we need real clients.”

“That's not a client. It's a shark in a skin suit. You, and even she, pegged it back at the office. There's something off about this whole thing.”

Anya nods. “He’s got a point. Look, I too want to know what the fuck’s going on here, but this guy…” She points behind herself. “This guy gives me a really bad feeling, Matt.”

“Yeah!” Foggy defends. “This guy’s a total creep and he’s been really inappropriate since we first got here. Come on, man.”

“We agreed to represent him, guys.” Matt fires back, sternly. “We're gonna try this case and let the jury take it from there.”

Matt leaves first, making Anya throw her hands up and Foggy shake his head.

“Mr. Healy, uh–” He clears his throat while sitting back down. “I suggest we waive criminal procedure law 180.80, give the DA more time to explore a plea. In the meantime, the best thing for you to do is to be forthcoming with us. Together, we'll confront the charges honestly, openly and within the moral confines of the law. Does that sound good to you?”

Healy sighs. “No.”

“Excuse me?” Foggy said, flabbergasted. 

“I want the 180.80 date. If I'm indicted, which we know I will be, we'll waive all hearings and discovery and go directly to trial. Not my first rodeo, remember?”

“You'll need to testify.” Matt said, recollected himself.

“I'm just gonna have faith in our judicial system…” He looks over each and everyone of them, giving them an uncomfortable stare. “And you're gonna do your jobs.”

The two male lawyers held their replies on their tongues as Anya clears her throat, crossing her arms to hide her shiver. This man was… 

Evil.

“That simple?” Matt asked, already knowing the answer.

“That simple. And, uh… as for the man who hired you… all you need to know is his check's gonna clear.”

Anya felt herself twitch under his words, deciding maybe she had enough. She pushes herself up from her seat, replying before her friends could say anything. “Wrap up, I’m going to take a breather.”

She leaves the room, strutting down the hall until she finds a water fountain. She takes a long drink of the lukewarm beverage, before pulling back, hands still grasping the sides. She closes her eyes, taking a few inhales and exhales to get her heart to stop racing.

God, I haven’t felt that much evil since… She frowns heavily, a distant memory coming back painfully enough to give her goosebumps. 

Since my dad. 

She sighs again, bitter at herself for remembering all that. Her thoughts were put on hold when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She almost wonders if it's the guys asking where she is, but instead it’s something else. It’s a news article from Queens that read:

F.E.A.S.T IS NOW STAYING OPEN, THANKS TO A 1.5 MILLION 

DOLLAR DONATION BY ANONYMOUS SOURCE.

For yet another time today, she was battering her eyes in disbelief, and chills were running up and down her spine.

What… in the hell is going on today?

And that was the million dollar question. Because unbeknownst to her and her partners, the strange man that came into their office earlier was back at the bowling alley; Grabbing the gun that their new client, Mr. Healy had used to slaughter.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The trio walk back into their office. Anya, who was still stuck inside her own mind, plopped down in a nearby chair, while the boys went at it.

“You wanna tell me what the hell's going on with you?” Foggy asked, sounding like a parent scolding their child. “First you decide we're taking the case unilaterally and then you cross-examine the guy like we're playing bad cop/worse cop.”

“If we want to keep the lights on, we gotta take some cases for the money.” Matt explains, shrugging. “You were right about that.”

Foggy’s shoulders slacked, frowning. “Okay, for the record, this is the first time you've ever said I was right. I hate it.”

“Sometimes, we have to do things we aren't proud of.”

“Yeah, but…” Foggy struggles with the words. “This can't become what we do.”

Matt scratches the back of his neck, sheepishly. “Yeah, I know.”

“And we have to be on the same team, making decisions together.” 

Matt nods, looking truly sorry. “I got carried away. I'm sorry, Foggy.”

“It's okay.”

Matt puts his fist up, making Foggy chuckle, giving him a quick fistbump.

“So?” Matt said, all ears.

“Okay.” Foggy exhales, straightening his thoughts. “So assuming he's indicted, which, yeah, it's on the DA to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that it wasn't self-defense, shoe girl's DD-5 says that she didn't come out of the back room until after the fight had started, which helps us.”

“And what about Prohaszka's men?”

“They lawyered up. Wouldn't give a five.”

Matt cocks his head. “Since when do the victims of an assault not give a statement?”

“Another chit in our favor.” Foggy said, less amused. “Plus, Healy's pretty banged up. Argue defensive wounds, which makes it look more like a fight and less like an execution.”

“So, you open, I'll sum up. Anya can be our backup in case something goes south.” 

“That sounds good.”

“You okay with being the backup this time, Anya?” Matt asked, which got silence in return. “Anya?”

Foggy looks her way in confusion, which turned into concern when he saw her spacing out. “Uh, Hughes?” He said, snapping his fingers loudly which caught her gaze. “Did you hear what we said?”

She stares at him strangely. “Um…?”

“Are you okay with being the backup in the trial?”

“Uh, y-yeah. Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.” She said, sitting straighter as she rubs her eyes.

Matt frowns, coming to terms that she’s been acting like this since the Police station. “What’s on your mind, Ann?”

Anya sighs, deciding to just lay it all out there. “Did you guys pay my rent for this month?”

“No.” Foggy raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well, I went to pay for it earlier and my landlord said someone, a friend of mine apparently, already took care of it. Which… is a little weird to me.”

“Maybe, you had a good samaritan.” Matt said, but even he thought it was a little suspicious. 

“Maybe, but… why?” She asks, standing up. “I’m not struggling to pay rent, nor have I ever mentioned to anybody I ever was.”

“You ordered pizza the other night. Maybe you unintentionally seduced the pizza guy.” Foggy replies, trying to ease her worries. It worked, for a second when she chuckled.

“Yeah, I looked so sexy in my oversize pjs and my messed up hair.” She deflated again, thinking. “Maybe it was the guy in the suit earlier.”

Matt’s brows pushed together. “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, I mean… he said that strange thing about my parents, which is… far from true, but still, he mentioned them. And why would he even bring that up to me?”

“Are you sure you don't recognize him?”

She shrugs. “Not that I recall. I don’t remember ever seeing him. But again, I was hardly ever home in my early age.”

Matt frowns at this. Being her childhood was enough for him to know that those scummy parents of hers were abusive. Abusive in what way was still a mystery to even him. And as for Foggy, who was copying his old roommate's expression, knew just as much as Matt (She sure didn’t like reliving that part of her life with anybody).

Foggy clenches his jaw for a moment, before putting on a little show. “You know, if they were still alive, I would fight them for making you miserable.”

Anya raises an eyebrow. “Fight with what, exactly?”

He holds his palms up. “With my hands. My fisticuffs.”

“Your fisticuffs?”

“Yeah! My most deadly weapon, Anya! No match for any mere mortal.”

That got her to smirk, and hold a hand over her heart. “Awe, thank you, my knight in shining wool.”

“You’re very welcome, milady.” He says with a bow. “And I even got a trusty sidekick by my side.”

“Sidekick?” Matt said, amused.

“Yeah. It’s time for me to be center stage, my friend.”

“And how do you expect me to fight?”

Foggy pointed to the object. “You’ve got your stick.”

“You expect me to fight with my walking stick?” Matt held it up, playing along.

“Yeah, it’s like a baseball bat.”

“Awe, I got two shining knights in wool.” Anya said, her spirits slightly lifted.

Which seemed to be enough for Foggy who continued to grin ear-to-ear. “See? She's loving it. We’ve got you back, Hughes.”

“Yeah, well I can’t see, but I can hear you smiling, so…” Matt replies, earning an eye roll from the Nelson, and a light jab to the arm.

“Stop with the blind jokes.” He chuckles.

“Oh, never.”

Anya laughs, walking closer to them. “Thanks for that. However, as much as I hate to be a Debbie downer, we probably should cash that check. And maybe have Karen see what she can find out about Confederated Global?”

“That’s probably a good Idea.” Matt agrees.

Foggy nods. “Yeah. Good call.” He peaks over to where the blonde woman should be sitting, but isn't. He raises an eyebrow. “Actually… Where the hell is she?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

To answer their question on where the blonde was, she was across town, sitting in a conference room where she used to work, carefully taking in everything this man was saying.

“It's a fairly simple form.” The lawyer begins, handing over her a document in a slick black case file. “Here you agree, in writing, to never again disclose information regarding your former employer, the dissolved entity known as Union Allied Construction, or any of its affiliates.”

He continues on even after she opens it up to read over it. “Upon execution of this agreement, the corporate interests, as they currently exist, agree not to pursue legal action against you.”

“Against me?” Karen asked, confused.

“Well, you signed a non-disclosure agreement the day you were hired, Miss Page.”

“Everybody did.”

“Not everyone broke that agreement and distributed confidential information.”

Karen scoffed in disbelief. “I… I exposed criminal activity.”

“And had you taken that information to any law enforcement agency, your rights may have been protected, but instead you went to the–” He shows off a newspaper. “New York Bulletin, a privately-owned news organization.”

“I had nothing to do with that article.”

“So the file you illegally removed from the premises of Union Allied wasn't the same one Mr. Urich refers to in this?” He asked, watching Karen refraining herself. “You see how this complicates things, yes?”

She keeps herself from tensing up with anger. “Daniel Fisher was murdered and your client–” 

“I assure you that any illegal activity associated with Union Allied has been dealt with, thanks very much to you.”

“You're welcome.”

“If you'd like, you can take these to your own representatives, but I'm fairly certain they'll advise you to sign it. And as a show of good faith, my clients would like to offer you a lump sum of six months' salary.”

She raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For all your help in the matter and for any stress these events may have caused.” He said, which was something she couldn’t believe she was hearing.

“Stress?” Karen said, dumbfounded. “Someone tried to kill me.”

“And while my clients acknowledge no involvement with that individual or claim legal responsibility for his actions, they do feel it's their non-binding moral obligation to offer you a chance at rebuilding your life.”

“As long as I… keep my mouth shut?”

“It's a clean slate, Miss Page. A chance to put it all behind you.” He explains while grabbing a pen, gently placing it in front of her. “Now, isn't that what you want?”

Isn’t that what you want?

Those words lingered in the air, getting the gears in her head to turn.

Isn’t that what you want?

Did she…

Did she want to start over from all this?

Again?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It's late at this scene. The trio of lawyers are sitting around the table, books and devices open as they have a carton of Chinese food next to them.

“Let's pull section 35.15 of the Penal.” Matt replies, thinking things over.

“35.15.” Foggy repeats, typing away on his laptop.

“Then we'll take our facts and fit them to the CJI and the statute.” Matt continues before hearing his friend sigh heavily. “Got the insights?”

“It's still loading. We need better Wi-Fi.”

“We need better everything.” Anya groans, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her face. “Is IKEA’s furniture still cheap?” That made the boys crack a smile.

Foggy points at her with his pen. “Let's do that. Let's win cases, be popular and make money.”

“It's not about that, Foggy.” Matt said, but couldn’t deny that sounded pleasing. 

“I know, but it could be just a little… a smidge.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and Karen peeks her head inside.

“Hey, uh Wi-Fi's acting weird.”

“You find out anything on Confed Global?” Matt asked, getting a nod from her.

“Yeah, uh, it's a subsidiary of a holding company of a loan-out to a holding subsidiary and on and on and on.” She crosses her arms, frowning. “But that dickhead's check cleared in about two seconds.”

“There's your money.”

Anya cocks her head, puzzled. “Well that’s… interesting.”

Foggy sighs again, his attention going back to his screen. He unfortunately was met with an error, claiming that there was no internet connection.  “Bang on the router, will you?” He asked Karen, politely. 

She nods again and starts to leave when–

“Oh, hey, no more long lunches until this is over, okay?” Matt said.

Karen cracks an understanding smile. “You got it.” She leaves, and you could immediately hear her banging on the device.

Foggy throws his hands up with joy when the page is finally loaded. “All right, practice insights for New York State Penal Law 35.15…”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The next day was the trial, and just as planned, Foggy was opening the case to everyone present in the courtroom.

He starts to keep a light pace around the room. “-And in the state of New York, I'll remind you, that my client is not required to prove that he was justified in his actions. Instead, it's up to the prosecution–” Foggy points to the prosecutions at their table. “To prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he was not justified in defending his life. And they will come nowhere close to meeting this burden. At the end of this case… the only verdict that you can render will be not guilty.”

Foggy walks back to his seat, his partners whispering to him that he did a good job before returning their attention to the Judge.

She begins speaking clearly. “Members of the jury, this is an important case, and I have a few additional comments that I want you to consider. If you should fail to agree upon a verdict, we will be forced to…”

Unknowingly to one another, both Matt and Anya failed to listen to the rest of what the Judge had to say when they noticed one of the jury members in the front row. It was a woman, who’s heart was pounding like a drum. It seemed to pick up when Matt recognized the man from their office yesterday by the ticking of his watch; And Anya caught a quick subtle glance behind herself, wiping away the chills she was getting from him.

The two of them both suddenly realized something was definitely off. In the back of their minds they thought:

This is a set up.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It was now night time. The woman from the jury is walking on the sidewalk, looking like she was heading home before she stumbles across a man she seemed to know and fear.

“All will be over soon, okay?” He begins, sternly. “Just keep it together till the verdict. Can you do that?” She continues to look scared, causing him to sigh. “Look, you ask me, it's almost like they're doing you a favor. I mean, you don't want something like that floating around. Go home. Get some rest. You got a big day tomorrow.”

The woman still looks nervous as the man puts a cigarette in his mouth and gives her the sign to leave. The woman wastes no time to walk away. The man sighs again, pulling out a lighter. But just before he could light his ever craving cigarette, the devil appears and gives him a swift punch in the gut. He gave him a few more when he decided to fight back.

“Stay down.” Matt warns when the man falls, but he doesn't listen. The man gets up and tries to attack again but he gets a kick to his knee, free falling once more. “I said stay down.”

“You son of a bitch!” He snaps, standing up wobbly.

Matt snags him by the collar, pinning him against the wall. “What do you have on her?” He asked, and twisted the man’s wrist.

The man cries in pain. “A tape! Th-There's a tape, okay?”

“What's on it?”

“A mistake she made when she was 19 and pretty, something she don't want her kids to know about.”

“You get rid of it.”

“I-I can't.”

Matt twists his wrist harder, getting another scream. “It's not a discussion.”

“It won't make a difference anyway.” The man winces.

“Who do you work for?”

“I don't know.” His reply earns him a hit in the ribs. “Ah!!”

“I want a name.” Matt hisses.

“There isn't one! That isn't how this works! Look, I walk by a building, if a light's on in the window, I got a job.” He explains, making Matt release him, and he sinks to the ground. “Somewhere there's another light in another building. I don't do this. I'm somebody else's job.”

“You tell her to get herself excused from the jury. Personal reasons, whatever it takes. After that, she never sees you again.” Matt said, cold enough to make sure he gets through his thick skull.

The man scoffs in disbelief. “They'll kill me.”

“Then you'd better leave my city, tonight.”

Matt hits him in the head to give him enough time to vanish. Up above he watches the man squirming around to get up, before running in the direction the woman left in. He sighs mentally, debating if he should follow him or not before he suddenly gets company. 

“Find anything?” Anya asked, strolling up to him with her arms crossed.

“What brings you here?” He asked, still looking in the direction the man went in. 

“Investigating.” She crosses her arms. “So, can we add blackmail to the list?”

“Apparently.”

“This shit’s getting stranger and stranger with each minute passing.”

“Find something?” He asked, interest piqued.

She shrugs. “I told you that things are linking up weirdly. I think it's starting to do that again.” 

“How so?”

“Well… I can give too many details because this is more of a… personal experience, but–” She sighs, straightening up. “Everything I seemed to be in contact with, has suddenly gone from being a bad spot to being something great. Now, I’m not a huge conspiracy nut, but this definitely piqued my interest.”

Another sigh, continuing, “I thought maybe this might have to do with my parents,  we knew someone personally who worked at this charity called F.E.A.S.T. and it was going under. Several hours after I tried to figure out how to help it, I got an alert that somebody gave the charity a large sum of money anonymously. Enough to keep it open for a very long time.”

“And you found this suspicious, how?” Matt asked, slightly confused by this discovery.

“Because, I looked into it. This money came out of nowhere. It came out of literal thin air.” Anya explains with her hands. “And the money is a lot, which I was really surprised about when I discovered they didn’t run a background check on it.”

“How much is a lot?”

“1.5 million.” Despite not seeing his whole face, you could still see the surprise on it. 

1.5?” He said, before scoffing. “And they didn’t run a background check on it?”

“No.” She said, shaking her head. “And this charity welcomed it with open arms. I thought maybe that was it, but I dug deeper. Some people I know, and some people I don’t even know are experiencing stuff like this. Like, there is a shitty situation and all of a sudden it’s good. Like getting a large sum of money, or getting a house, or a new position at a job after losing their own. And this is all like a snap of their fingers. It’s instant. It’s like Hell’s Kitchen has a good samaritan, but at what cost?”

Matt frowns, his thoughts running wild. “Sounds like someone’s pulling some strings here.”

“Exactly my thought. But who? And why?” He grows quiet, long enough for Anya to figure out what he was thinking. “You think it’s connected to this case at the courthouse today?”

“It’s a thought.”

“How? And how did you know about that case?”

“I know one of the jurors, they told me about the case.” A lie, one that she could hear. “And how about you? This ain’t exactly public yet.”

“My family had ties inside.” A lie, one that he could hear. “So what are you thinking, No-Eyes?”

He purses his lips. “I’m thinking someone, maybe the same person you’re referencing, could have its hands in the courthouse. Maybe even in the law. The only problem is, nobody will tell me this guy’s name.”

“Well that’s certainly a problem.” She says, and he nods in agreement.

“Yeah…” He frowns, thinking,

It certainly is.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The next day came soon enough, and the lawyers were holding their breaths at this point, almost praying that this would go smoothly. 

“The court grants the motion to excuse juror number eight from service due to extenuating personal circumstances.” The Judge explains, letting the nervous woman out from her seat, letting a guard guide her away. “The first alternate juror will replace her. Would the defense care to make a closing argument?”

“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you.” Matt says, standing up and guiding himself in front of the jury.

He stands still for a moment and hears a heartbeat that’s lightly pounding from the new juror. Anya picks up on that too, and hides her worried expression.

“What the hell is he doing?” Healy whispers, and Foggy tells him to cool it.

“Mr. Murdock, we're waiting.” The Judge said, making him shake his head apologetically.

“Sorry, Your Honor.” He said, taking a deep breath. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, forgive me if I seem distracted. I've been preoccupied of late with, uh, questions of morality… of right and wrong, good and evil. Sometimes the delineation between the two is a sharp line. Sometimes it's a blur and often it's like… pornography. You just know when you see it.”

That got the people in the courtroom laugh.

“A man is dead. I don't mean to make light of that, but these questions… these questions are vital ones because they tether us to each other to humanity. Not everyone feels this way. Not everyone sees the sharp line, only the blur. A man is dead. Um, a man is dead. And my client, John Healy, took his life.”

Matt points in his table’s direction. “This is not in dispute. It is a matter of record of fact and facts have no moral judgment. They merely state what is. Not what we think of them, not what we feel. They just are. What was in my client's heart when he took Mr. Prohaszka's life, whether he is a good man or something else entirely, is irrelevant. These questions of good and evil, as important as they are, have no place in a court of law. Only the facts matter. 

“My client claims he acted in self-defense. Mr. Prohaszka's associates have refused to make a statement regarding the incident. The only other witness, a frightened young woman, has stated that my client was pleasant and friendly, and that she only saw the struggle with Mr. Prohaszka after it had started. Those are the facts. Based on these and these alone, the prosecution has failed to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that my client was not acting solely in self-defense. And those, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, are the facts.

“My client, based purely on the sanctity of the law which we've all sworn an oath to uphold, must be acquitted of these charges. Now, beyond that, beyond these walls he may well face a judgment of his own making. But here in this courtroom the judgment is yours and yours alone.”

Anya furrows her brows, puzzled.

That’s… oddly specific? 

But she didn’t have the heart to question her friend’s closing statement.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, somewhere in the city, the men working in the shadows were taking a drive. 

“I need to talk to him.” Leland Owsley, the investor, said, clearly irritated.

“He sends his apologies.” The man in the office, James Weasly, replies with his everlasting calm tone.

“I don't care about his… Where is he? This needs attention.”

“He’s indisposed.”

“With what?” Leland asked with a sudden concern.

“Art.” 

“Art who?”

Weasly held a snippy remark on his tongue. “Paintings. His penthouse is finally ready–” He explains getting an eyeroll.

“You're shitting me. Everything's spinning out of whack and he's decorating?”

“The situation is under control, Leland.”

“You've lost your strong-arm and the tape. You got nothing on juror eight now.”

“She's only a piece of the puzzle.”

“You ever try putting a puzzle together with a piece missing? It's damned aggravating.” Leland sighs, shaking his head. “I don't see why we're going through all of this anyway. Just get rid of Healy the way you got rid of the other guy. They find him hanging in his cell, boom-boom, case closed.”

“Rance, Fisher, McClintock, Farnum.” Wesley starts reciting. “We've been leaving a trail of bodies lately, and trails eventually lead somewhere. This… this needed to be handled quietly, within the confines of the law.”

“So you hire a couple of back-door shysters? I know 100 defense attorneys with more experience than the three stooges.”

Wesley scoffs. “It's not their experience that matters. They just opened shop and they're completely clean. Say that about any of the other 100 you know? Huh? Three lawyers above reproach. Self-defense. No questions, no trail.”

Leland chuckles, finding that statement humoring. “No trail, huh?” He shifts in his seat to get a better gaze on him. “You think I didn’t read their names? Don’t tell me that’s the Anya Hughes?”

Wesley just stares with an emotionless face. “And what if it is?” He asked, getting another laugh. “What’s so funny about that?”

“What makes you think she’s going to cooperate? She’s been out from under her father’s thumb for a very long time now, what makes you think she’ll cooperate with Mr. F–”

“She’ll come around. Especially since we have some leverage on her. We can always use her family.”

Leland’s face falls into confusion. “What family? Her parents are dead.”

Wesley smiles mischievously. “You think that girl had only parents?”

Leland bites his lip and looks away. “Whatever.” He replies, waving this off. “Going back to beforehand, there's too much light shining on this situation. I can't move on Prohaszka's holdings until the glare is off.

“Get the papers ready and let my employer worry about the rest.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

In another part of the city, Karen finally made up her mind on what she wanted to do and raced as fast as she could to the address in her hand. She arrived just in time to find the woman she’s been looking for. 

“Mrs. Fisher?” She called out, getting the attention. “Hi. Um, uh. My name's Karen–”

“I know who you are.” 

“I'm sorry. I know how… hard this must be for you.”

Mrs. Fisher scoffs. “My husband was found dead in your apartment. You have no idea how any of this is for me.”

“Nothing ever happened between me and Daniel.” Karen replies, trying to get that out there.

“You think I don't know that? I know how much Danny loved me. Whatever it is you're after, Miss Page, I can't help you.” She said, turning away.

“Union Allied?” Karen spoke, getting her to look back. “They offered me money… a lot of money if I sign an agreement to never talk about what happened. They offer you something like that? They killed Danny. They tried to kill me. And now they just shuffle some papers and change their name and they get away with it?”

Mrs. Fisher swallows the fear and replies, “Let it go.”

“I've tried. It just doesn't feel right.”

“He said the same thing. A few days before he… he said something didn't feel right at work with the numbers and I told him that whatever it was, he had a responsibility to do something about it. I figure I have a couple years before I explain that part to my kids.

“They have to pay for what they've done.”

“They won't listen.”

“We'll make them listen.”

“I already signed. I have two kids, Miss Page, and they're all that matter to me now. If you have anyone that you care about… let it go.”

Mrs. Fisher leaves the blonde behind by going back inside her house. Now Karen was stuck with a thought of…

How could she let this go?

And will she…?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

And she doesn’t. She arrives at the Bulletin office, catching the last part of a reporter’s phone conversation.

“-Shirley, thanks so much for pushing this through. I… I owe you one. Okay, thanks. Bye.” He had a smile on his face as he hung up the phone, but it disappeared as he looked at a newspaper poll his boss made him do.

Karen wastes no time to knock, waiting for a response.

“Yeah?” He calls out, not looking up.

“Excuse me, Mr. Urich?” She said, opening the door up fully.

“So they tell me.”

“I read your article.” She said, as he stood up.

Urich’s face twisted with different emotions before settling with a fake smile. “About the subway line?”

“Uh, about Union Allied Construction. I, um…” She trails to think as his facial expression fades. “I think there's more to the story… if you're interested.”

And that lit a little spark in step.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The Judge walks back in and takes her seat. “Please be seated.”

Everyone complies immediately. An officer gives the judge a note just as the man from the office, the infamous James Wesly, walks in and sits down at the bench. Matt and Anya picked that up before they heard something familiar. Another juror, an older woman whose heart was about to beat out of her chest. 

“They're hung.” Both of them said, spearing a quick look at one another.

Foggy looked at them worried. “What?”

“Madam Foreperson, it's my understanding from this note that you have been unable to reach a verdict.” The Judge asks, as the old lady stands up in her presence. 

“We have not, Your Honor.”

“Allen charge. She's sending them back in. Still split, DA will retry.” Foggy leans in to their client, explaining carefully. 

“No, they won't. Will they, Mr. Healy?” Matt asked, knowing the answer.

“That was a hell of a speech you gave, Murdock.” Healy said, sincerely. “A hell of a speech.”

Anya shakes her head, and whispers, “Fuck…”

But her and Matt knew this wasn’t over yet.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Frankly, Anya usually would try to stop her masked partner from going overboard, but for this occasion…

This called for her to turn a blind eye, one she was happy to give to him.

She hops out of her hiding spot once she sees the two men starting to spar one another, and immediately opens up the trunk that had its window smashed (All thanks to No-eyes over here). She spots the overstuffed duffle bag, pulling out and peeking around the car to find that Matt had pinned down Mr. Healy to the ground. 

“The man that hired your lawyers, who does he work for?” Matt hissed, putting a piece of sharp glass near his throat.

“You think I'm afraid of you?” Healy spatted, which was the wrong answer. He was soon hit pretty close to the heart with the broken glass. 

Matt pulls it out and places it on his neck again. “Tell me! Who does he work for?”

Healy groans as Anya soon appears with the bag he had, searching through it carefully.

She whistles and taunts, “Damn. You’re really packing, Healy.”

He seemed baffled that she was here too. “You’re really letting him do this to me, sweetheart?!”

She shrugs. “Personally, I don’t condone it, but I don’t really like you that much to care. Or…” She shows off her unusually long nails. “I could poke at you a little.”

Healy looks like he might piss his pants if hasn’t already. “You people are crazy!!!”

“Oh, Shut up!” She steps on his hand hard, causing him to scream. “Who does he work for?!”

“I can't!” He cries, causing the glass by his neck to press down more. 

“I want a name!” Matt yells back.

Healy chokes on the pressure. “Oh, Oh, God! Fisk! Wilson Fisk!”

Matt pulls out the glass and breaks it on the concrete. “You get in your car. If either ever of us see you in Hell's Kitchen again…”

“No.” He croaks while rolling onto all four.

“You do not want to test him, man.” Anya suggested, but he shook his head.

“You think this is still about you? The both of you?!” Healy asked, standing up. “I gave up his name. You don't do that, not to him. He'll find me… and make an example and… then he'll find everyone I've ever cared about and do the same to them.” He looks at them with fearful eyes. “So that no one ever does what I just did.” Then disgust. “You should have just killed me. You cowards.”

Before the vigilantes could say anything, Healy went for the loose spike on the fence, and impaled his head in it. Matt takes a step back in shock while Anya shrieks into her hands.

“Oh, my god…” She chokes, and feels herself grow pale. “Oh, my god. Oh, my god…”

Matt’s jaw twitches as he swallows. He carefully finds her arm, giving a gentle tug. “Let’s go. Let’s step away.” He said, softly once he felt her gaze on him.

Despite being in shock, she was almost, almost hesitant to leave, but she did knowing there was nothing for them to do. Once they were a few blocks away, the tense air was cut away.

“Okay.” Anya breathes, hands curling behind her head. “What kind of power does a name have for you to want to commit suicide?”

Matt finds his hands clenching and unclenching, his mind wandering to dangerous places. “I don’t know.”

“Do you know it? The name?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You?”

“No.” She sighs and blinks away unwanted tears. “No. It doesn’t ring a bell.” She shifts her weight and asks a heavy question, “What have we gotten into? Can we handle whatever this is?”

Matt grows awfully quiet. He’s silent for so long that she eventually repeats the question with a heavier emotion.

He holds back a quivering lip, saying, “I don’t know.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

On another side of town, a beautiful woman walks through her art exhibition and finds a dashingly dressed man standing still, looking at a canvas painted with shades of different whites. The woman approaches him with a kind smile.

“There's an old children's joke. You hold up a white piece of paper and you ask, ‘What's this?’. ‘A rabbit in a snowstorm’.” She jokes, and looks up at him with joyful eyes. “You interested or just looking?”

“Interested.” The man said, his fingers twitching slightly.

“People always ask me how can we charge so much for what amounts to gradations of white. I tell them it's not about the artist's name or the skill required, not even about the art itself. All that matters is… ‘How does it make you feel’?”

A long heavy silence filled the air, before the man that’ll soon become so important in this world, spoke with emotions so deep in his roots.

.

.

.

.

“It makes me feel alone.”

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《《

-Tag list Is Open-

@uncle-eggy @fangirling-galore @superbreadsoul

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #foggy nelson x reader #nelson and murdock #karen page x reader #karen page #ben urich #frank castle #mcu daredevil #daredevil #the punisher #wilson fisk #kingpin #peter parker x oc #peter parker #spiderman #my fanfic writing #skyfallwrites #marvel fanfiction #matt murdock x vigilante!reader

[deafeningwizardsquare]

Goblet of Fire Au challenge: Ice.

@slytherincursebreaker invited me and this came out!

My MC made already an appearance in my drawings and only for the sake of the Orion x Skye. Since then, I changed her design a lot + added a minimum of backstory, that consist in her hiding a niffier in the dormitory (for reasons that will be revealed, maybe) & her begin bestie with Tulip and Skye. And begin good at Quidditch, transfiguration and history of magic but failing other classes XD. With the special partecipation of a lot of unrequited crushes aka Chester, Orion, Bill & Felix, aka pt,2 the charm of having more than a braincell. Canonically (for my canon ofc) she's Ben partner.

She's Natalie Morgan, who can clearly cast incendio very well. Especially after a devastating duel with Mr Gelato.

Since Snell grew up in a drawer (rules about animals in the dormitory that Jam City ignores ecc…) he's quite attached to her, overall hiding in her bag just to take her wand (it has some parts in metal) and almost letting her failing the prove may damage their relationship. 😂😂😂

The time at the end didn't run out, I write this 'cause my inking is confusing.

#single:❌ #dating: ❌ #engaged: ❌ #in love with the ice knight: ☑️☑️☑️ #just kidding I've just killed him #anyway this challenge brings me back so many good memories #like learning Incendio with Bill? #Chester who was worried for the icy robes 🥲 #Ben doing the pro gamer move & erasing their traces? #can't wait to see what this challenge has in store 👀👀👀 #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hogwarts mystery mc #thanks for the invitation! #and yep #10 years in watercolours and I should know the drying time #I want to shake the hand of that genius who thought that using more water to create the memory/transparency effect was a nice idea #I hate you #yet it happens to be me soooo #and than they wonder why I rarely add white to make things lighter! #AH! #Two weeks of work but 0 regrets. #Just a new mental note XD.

[fandomficticn]

upcoming fan fictions

so the fan fictions won out for my upcoming works!

now drug/eternal fans do not fret because I will still be continuing and finishing that fic. will I be writing simultaneously? you would be correct!

now, what shall be voted on today is which of my fan fics will I be writing along side of the eternals fan, "the last hope". below will be the summary of each fic and just like before, you all get to vote on which one I will be posting. whichever becomes the top vote will be the next fanfic to be written along side the last hope; the next highest vote will be the next fan fiction and so on.

gonna be honest, most of these I did already start like plotting out!

---

This is Poguelandia ( ofc x jj maybank )

Laurie Dubois was the new kook in town, with secrets that could give everyone a run for their money, but before anything could come to light, she ended up going missing. Four years later, Laurie is caught on camera, alive and well, and the hunt is on to find her. The Pogues could be the ones to find Laurie and be split the reward money and while that is enticing to JJ Maybank, he has a secret connection to the missing girl and knows there's more than meets the eye when it comes to why she went missing all those years ago.

Mr. and Mrs. Xu ( ofc x mafia!shang-chi )

Sara and Shaun come from opposing crimes families, both well-versed in undercover work. Both were sent on jobs in the States when they meet, not knowing the other's true identity. Now, years later after being married and having their daughter, the Xu's are living their secret lives while working for their families until one night changes and jeopardizes everything Sara and Shaun worked so hard to protect.

The Big Fix ( ofc x modern!anthony bridgerton )

It had been years since Anthony Bridgerton and Auralia Bell haven't been in the same room since they broke up their junior year of college. Now, almost ten years later, Auralia is the top performer at The Avalon Group, the top pr firm catering to London's finest. To get the promotion of her dreams, she is tasked with her biggest contract yet: fix Anthony Bridgerton's reputation. Auralia has to out her emotions aside and be the professional she knows she is, not thinking about the feelings that are clearly still there.

The Guardians ( ofc x ben miller )

Ben Miller is the happiest man he's ever been; his winning big with boxing with his brother and friends by his side and he's with the woman of his dreams. One day, everything gets turned upside down when she goes missing with nothing but a distress call from the other side of the world giving any insight. Now, the boys must band together for one more mission in the search of her before it's too late.

Fool's Gold ( ofc x nathan drake ; ofc x victor sullivan )

Victor Sullivan comes to Nathan Drake for a hunt of a lifetime, a hunt that he couldn't refuse. When the hunt takes them on the most dangerous path they've ever been on, up against bigger enemies than they've faced before, Nathan Drake has to decide if what's at the end is ultimately worth his life.

The Legend of Leon Winter ( ofc x simon lewis )

Leon Winter is well-known amongst the downworlders, Magnus Bane himself knew the warlock personally. Due to horrendous crimes committed by him, Leon Winters is locked away and never to be seen or heard from again. Until today. Somehow, someway, the powerful dark warlock has been freed and hell on earth is quite literally about to rain down. The only ticket to his demise is his illegitimate and unknown daughter, Cherish. No one ever knew she was his daughter nor how she could be the one to bring him down but everyone is in a race against the clock to get to her and end this once and for all.

Chrysós ( ofc x rafe cameron )

A new treasure hunt is on the horizon but this could be more dangerous than what the Pogues have already experienced. Blackbeard's treasure is the world's most hard to find bounty in the world but the Pogues are confident they can find it like they've found their last find. They must band together with Rafe Cameron and Barry when it comes to light they know the one person that has the edge to finding this treasure. OFC knows that Blackbeard had many wives and therefore many chances for descendants and she knows one of them. Could this descendant be their ticket to fame and fortune or lead to their downfall?

Don't Panic ( ofc x dodge mason )

The new season of panic is on the books and everyone's eyes are on the prize money, that being their one way ticket out of their small town. Dodge Mason knows what the money could do for his family but what take him by surprise is his old friend, Sherrie Edge, joins the game after she used to tell him that there was nothing wrong with staying in a small town. The two ex-friends are now in competition with other's in their class; the dangers are high, the secrets are big, and someone is not who they say they are...

Shimmer ( ofc x eddie munson )

Monica Nguyen usually kept to herself, little to no friends despite being on the Hawkins swim team, until a freak accident changed her and put her on the “hawkins hotties” map. Being thrust into the spotlight after being in the shadows for so long can be overwhelming but a certain long-haired dungeon master can make the obnoxious sounds of popularity die down. When outside forces come knocking on Hawkins door in search for the result of their "experiment" and the Hawkins Monster Hunting Club must band together to protect their new friend by any means necessary.

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #ofc x jj maybank #ofc x rafe cameron #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #ofc x shang chi #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #ofc x anthony bridgerton #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #ofc x ben miller #ofc x benny miller #uncharted fanfiction #uncharted x fanfic #ofc x nathan drake #ofc x victor sullivan #shadowhunters fanfiction #shadowhunters fanfic #ofc x simon lewis #panic fanfiction #panic fanfic #ofc x dodge mason #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #ofc x eddie munson

[love-strawberry]

let's fall in love for the night

summary : in which it's a date for them and an occasion for their castmate to third wheel.

pairing : ben barnes x reader

warnings : language

author's note : i love this sm <3 i love ben barnes like it's not healthy anymore, n e ways, enjoy!! requests are open

tagged : @slut4benbarnes @mrs-brekker15

masterlist

----------

liked by tchalamet, freddycarter1, benbarnes and 3,688,872 others

y/n_ turns out that ben CAN cook

tagged benbarnes

74,519 comments

username awww

username i love that they have date nights even tho they're shooting

username they're so cute

username that place looks so good

benbarnes excuse you, you doubted my cooking skills?

-> y/n_ i'm sure everyone did darling

username they're my otp

freddycarter1 please don't eat the pesto pasta he makes, gave me food poisoning

-> y/n_ duly noted, thank u for the heads up

username LMAO BEN GIVING FREDDY FOOD POISONING

amitasuman_ pleased come back soon, we're gonna watch thor ragnarok

-> y/n_ omw baby

username her relationship with the cast>>>

username i'll never have this kinda love

tchalamet mom and dad on a date ooooo

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liked by jessie_mei_li, daniellegalligan_, y/n_ and 3,427,872 others

benbarnes you have my heart

📸 : kittheyounger

tagged y/n_

75,628 comments

username they're so precision

username my babies

username omg omg omg omg

jacktwolfe please give me back my bag ben

kittheyounger 🔪 thank u for FINALLY giving me photo credit

-> benbarnes i wouldn't have to if you didn't come when i told you that it was a date

-> kittheyounger details details blah

username lmao kit crashing their date is hilarious

y/n_ you have mine

-> benbarnes 🤍

username hahahaha im so lonely hahaha

daniellegalligan_ my wife looks so good

jessie_mei_li ❤️

username them>>>

username (yourshipname) supremacy 🛐🛐

username mom and dad

archierenaux3 hope you had fun mate! we really tried to stop kit but he escaped his trailer

username on my knees for them

username ahh to be loved by ben barnes

username they're THE superior couple

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liked by jacktwolfe, calahan.skogman, y/n_ and 3,628,927 others

y/n_ please stop being so cute, thank u

tagged benbarnes

79,427 comments

username he's so adorable

username 'bad guy' sir you're the epitome of a golden retriever

username AHHHHHHHHSHHSHSBXJXHXHZJ

benbarnes stop being so pretty then

-> y/n_ can't turn off default settings love

username hands 😩🥵

username gorgeous

freddycarter1 the most beautiful man

username i love i love i love i love i love i love this

username omg he's so cute and adorable and beautiful and ethereal

archierenaux3 please tell him to return that cap

-> calahan.skogman and that jacket

-> jacktwolfe pretty sure that coffee was supposed to be mine

username 💦💦

tchalamet marry me sir benbarnes

-> benbarnes 💍🧎🏻‍♂️

username he's so pretty i wanna cry

username i don't know if i want to be y/n or ben

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liked by tchalamet, kittheyounger, freddycarter1 and 3,528,872 others

benbarnes date night but (unfortunately) with kit

tagged y/n_ kittheyounger

73,659 comments

username lmao kit always third wheeling them

username poor kit

username BAHAHAHA I CAN JUST IMAGINE KIT SCOWLING WHENEVER BEN AND Y/N ARE BEING CUTE

username 🤍🖤

y/n_ had the most amazing night, excluding kit ofc

-> benbarnes same, with the exception of kit

-> kittheyounger honestly, fuck you both

username HDUSKAKS THEM BULLYING KIT

kittheyounger 🔪

username 🤧

amitasuman_ so sorry, we failed to detain kit. again

username 😭😭

jacktwolfe i love those glasses

-> kittheyounger i stole one for you jk no i didn't

username this cast>>>

username those glasses, i need them

username 🧡🧡🧡

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#social media imagines #social media au #ben barnes imagine #ben barnes blurbs #ben barnes au #ben barnes imagines #ben barnes #ben barnes x actress!reader #ben barnes x fem!reader #ben barnes x you #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x y/n #social media fics #grishaverse imagines #shadow and bone cast #billy russo #ben barnes blurb fluff #ben barnes fluff #ben barnes one shot

[rayslittlekitten]

"Wanna Be"

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 | Part 5

A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I've last updated this story but it's coming really close to an end. I have 99% of the part 5 done which will be the last. Thank you @lovebarefootblonde for beta reading!!

Rating: T

Word Count: ~2.5

Pairing: Teenager!Will Miller x OFC; Teenager!Will Miller & Teenager!F!reader

Contains: cursing, pining, teenage shenanigans, mentioned of underage drinking and drug use, jealousy

After the prom, you and Benny decide to go with the others to the lake. While a large liquor bottle and several joints are being passed around, some of the others are stripped down to their underwear and had jumped into the lake, including Benny. You weren't comfortable doing that so you just took your shoes off and sat on a large rock by the edge to soak your feet, swinging them while you watch the others splashing about and being silly. You were always a bit of a wallflower anyways. You see Angela and Will also enjoying themselves, but Will seems distracted.

“Hey, you’re in my AP English class, right? Mr. Smith?”

You are startled by one of the football players who just swam up to you.

“Yes." You tilt your head to the side while looking at him. "Jackson, right?” you ask, recognizing him.

“You can call me Jack. You usually sit in the back corner.”

“And you usually sit in the front and center,” you point a finger at him. “Very active in class too.”

“I’m very passionate about literature,” Jackson smirks and shrugs. You never noticed his smile before. It's actually quite infectious and it's making the corners of your lips pull up closer to your ears.

“You’re Ben Millz’s girl, right?” He asks as he bobs up and down in the water.

“Well, he’s my date but we’re just friends,” you tell him.

"Good to know," he nods. "So what are you doing up there and not in here?"

"I don't know how to swim."

"The water's not that deep. You look tall enough for it. I’m also a lifeguard if that makes you feel safer.”

"I'm also a bit shy about my body," you shrug a bare shoulder.

"I promise no one's going to be looking especially if you're under water," he says. “And honestly, others are probably just as self-conscious to care what everyone else looks like.”

"Thanks, but I think I'll sit this one out." You accidentally swing your leg with a little too much force and splash some water on Jackson.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean that!" you quickly apologize.

Jackson just laughs and submerges himself completely underwater before coming back up, splashing back a bit of water back at you.

You shriek and giggle as you put your hands up in defense even though it's not doing much. He smooths back his shoulder-length blonde hair and then you watch as he places his large hands on the rocky edge and pushes himself up and out of the water. You look away when you realize the man is wearing nothing but his boxer briefs that are clinging to his body like it is vacuum sealed onto him. There's no outdoor lighting but the full moon is shining bright tonight and it's highlighting every dip, crease and bump on his wet body. You sense him next to you and take a peek, noticing he's settled himself next to you, dripping wet and half-naked. You're relieved that he chose to wear black underwear today.

"I'm sorry about that splash. I didn't think it would be that big. Here," Jackson offers his white under shirt to help you dry up.

"Thanks," you chuckle and take it from him to dab yourself.

*******************

Your shriek had gotten the attention of some of the people, including Will's. He glances over and sees you laughing and having a good time with Jackson sitting next to you. He watches as Jackson helps you with your hair that is now partially damp. Or he’s making a move on you. Will can’t quite tell from where he is, but what he can tell is that what he’s feeling in his core right now reminds him of the times when guys would openly flirt with Angela right in front of him.

His blood would boil when they’d not just compliment her, but also make sexual innuendos at her while clearly undressing her with their eyes. Angela would brush it off as harmless, but there was a time or two where Will felt he needed to step in when it started to get too physical for their comfortability. He understood she’s good friends with some of the athletes, but there was a line and some of those guys crossed them. He thought maybe some of those guys, especially from the football team, didn't feel threatened by Will since he’s on the shorter and slimmer side compared to them.

Will sees Jack lean in to whisper something into your ear and then you look at him coyly while trying to hide your face in your shoulder. Will wonders what Jack had said that’s gotten you all smittened. A thousand possibilities are running through his mind, and with each passing thought, his jaw ticks and his fists ball up.

He can’t explain this sudden feeling that’s quickly growing. He wants to be the one to make you laugh and be the one you can completely be yourself and be silly with. He wants to be the one to whisper sweet things into your ear that will make you feel flustered. No, he’s not jealous. Not of you, not of Jack. Not of you and Jack. He’s just protective of you. Right?

Will’s wandering mind gets interrupted when he suddenly feels himself getting pushed down in water. After a moment, he resurfaces and he swipes his hand over his face. He looks around and finds Benny ready to jump on him again, but Will dunks him first. When Will turns back to you and Jackson, he sees the two of you walking off together. He immediately starts swimming towards land, but he's interrupted again. This time it's Angela and she jumped on his back, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulder.

*******************

When you walk back to the lake with Jack, you find Will sitting on the rock you were on earlier.

"You sure you don't wanna jump in?" Jack asks you.

"I'm sure, but thank you," you smile at him. "I think I'm gonna go hang out with him." You nod your head towards Will.

"Alright," Jack shrugs. "See you later." He winks before jumping back into the lake.

You give Jack a little wave before heading over towards Will. He watches you as you walk over to him. He scoots over a bit to make room for you.

"Thank you," you say as you get comfy and take your shoes off to dip your feet back in. As with Jack, you try to keep your eyes away from Will's bathing suit area. "How are you?"

Will tilts his head and shoots you a confused look. "How am I?"

"Yeah. Are you having fun? I haven't really spoken to you since like that dance we had," you answer. “You look more sober than I do and I didn’t even drink or smoke anything.”

“Someone’s gotta be the responsible one, right?” Will shrugs.

"I also saw you and Angela having what looked like a serious discussion earlier."

“Yeah…” Will sighs.

“You finally told her, didn’t you?” You ask.

“Yup,” Will nods as he plays with a small smooth rock in his hand.

“I guess she didn’t take it too well?”

“Surprisingly, she took it better than I expected.” Will answers.

“She’s not upset?” You ask curiously.

“Oh, she is, but not at me joining the army. She’s upset that I waited this long to tell her.” Will continues to examine the rock in his hand.

“Well, she seems to be taking it well.”

“Well, she also told me she’s very supportive of my decision—“

“That’s good!” You lightly elbow him.

“But she’s not gonna wait for me," he shakes his head.

“What does that mean?” You ask with wrinkled brows.

“She said she wants the full college experience and if I’m not gonna be there with her, she might as well be single,” Will shrugs.

“Wait, she broke up with you?” You ask with wide eyes.

“Well, we kind of shelved the conversation and said we’d have a real talk about it tomorrow and to just enjoy the rest of the night, but yeah that’s where it’s most likely heading.” Will tosses the rock into the lake.

Benny does a cannonball dive and it gets the whole crowd roaring.

“Honestly, for a while I’ve felt like she’s wanted to… explore other options anyways.” Will looks over at Angela screeching and splashing around with Billy.

“Wow. I’m so sorry, Will.” You snake an arm around his waist and pull him in for a side hug. He puts his arm around your shoulders and leans into you.

“Thank you.” He flashes you a forced smile.

“This must be awkward. Why’d you still come here then?”

“Well, I still care about her and didn't want to make things awkward. People would ask questions if I didn't come. Besides, I do not trust some of these guys here especially with alcohol and drugs involved. The very least I’m going to do is make sure she gets home safe.”

“Like the true gentleman you are.” You pat his shoulder. “She doesn’t know what she’s losing.”

“Thanks,” Will throws a half smile and attempts to ruffle your hair but you quickly dodge him.

“So what’s up with you and Jack?” Will asks.

"Nothing," you shrug. "He’s cool."

"You two looked like you were having a good time splashing about."

"Yeah, that was an accident," you laugh. "But he seems nice. Kinda cute. Super smart. He's got the looks and the brains. He's going to an Ivy League school and is giving up his football scholarship to go to his dream school, even if it means he will have to spend the rest of his life paying for it. Insane."

"Please tell me how you really feel," he says sarcastically.

"It's too bad--"

"I was joking," Will cuts in.

You glare at him curiously. "What are you? Jealous?" you joke and elbow his rib.

"It's too bad he's going to school across the country," you finally finish.

"So... no long distance thing?" Will asks.

"No," you laugh. "I mean, yeah I kinda like him, but not enough to try something more with him."

"Did you guys try... anything already? I did see you two walking off alone before."

"You mean when he walked with me to find a spot where I could pee while he was keeping watch?" you ask. "Nothing happened between us, if that's what you think."

Will looks almost relieved. You can see the tension in his body almost completely melt away.

"Hey, I know you worry about me sometimes, but I can take care of myself. And you know Jack. He's a good guy. If you really didn't trust him, I know you would have come looking for me as soon as you saw us walking off together." You look at him, waiting for his reaction. You nudge his shoulder with your own.

He turns to you and he smiles.

"Yeah, you're right. I guess I'm just feeling a little guilty leaving you and Benny and my parents." Will rubs the back of his neck. “And Angie too.”

"You shouldn't. If this is what you want to do, now is the time. You'll see us all again and when you do, we'll proudly welcome you home with open arms." You put your arm around his shoulders. "Besides, can't miss you if you don't go away."

Will lets out a chuckle and leans in to press his forehead against yours, but it ends up being more of a minor head butt.

"Ow! You're not gonna need a helmet with that noggin of yours." You pull back and rub your forehead.

"I'm sorry," Will laughs and kisses your forehead.

******

"You're not leaving a champion, Miller." You concentrate on trying to cut corners and gain ahead of Bowser who is in first place while you're in second. Will is at a close third, quickly catching up to you.

There was a small farewell get together for Will and it included some of his friends from school and the neighborhood. The party ended hours ago and you're the only one left. You and Will have been spending as much time together as you can before he leaves tomorrow.

"You can't even let me have this one?" Will asks as he is getting right on your tail.

"No, because then you'll have to come back to win the championship title from-- Yes! I am still the champion!" You drop the controller and stand up, throwing your arms in the air to celebrate your victory.

Will gets up from the carpeted floor.

"I swear you're cheating. I don't know how, but you have to be," he smirks and shakes his head.

"Sore loser!" You stick your tongue out at him.

Will suddenly charges at you, wrapping his arms around your hips and lifting you up, then tossing you onto his bed. You screech. The two of you start to wrestle around. You remember some of the moves Benny taught you, but Will's longer limbs have the advantage. Will has you in a headlock and you use all you've got to try to get out of it, but the harder you fight, the more resistance you get. You finally give up and tap. Will quickly releases you and you both lay next to each other while gasping for air.

"Okay, you were much easier to fight off when we were like 10," you pant. "When the hell did you get so strong?"

"I've been lifting some weights. Gotta be strong if I'm gonna protect the country, right?" Will chuckles. "Also, I'm not four feet tall and 100 pounds wet anymore."

"No, you're tall as heck and still growing. You're probably going to be like over six feet and 200 pounds of muscle," you laugh.

"Maybe," Will says.

The two of you lay in comfortable silence as your heart rates begin to slow down.

"So have you finished packing yet?" You turn your body onto your side facing him, slightly curled up with a hand under the pillow to prop your head up.

"Yeah. I'm honestly not bringing much. They're giving me a uniform to wear so it's just the basics I'm bringing." Will notices your eyelids looking heavy as they struggle to stay open. He glances at his watch.

"It's getting late." He yawns as he reaches in and lazily pokes your nose with the tip of his finger.

"Stop!" you slur and giggle as you swat his hand away. "I'm just resting my eyes. It's not my fault your bed is so comfy."

Will smirks at your reaction. He then turns his body to his side to face you. He pushes back the loose strands of hair hanging over your face and tucks them behind your ear. The disturbance causes you to open your eyes for a moment.

"I'm gonna miss you. You promise to write, right?" Will asks.

"I pinky promise," you offer your little finger. "Will you write back?"

"I pinky promise." Will smiles and links his finger with yours.

With that, the two of you succumb to the Sandman while still holding pinkies.

#Charlie Hunnam #Charlie Hunnam fanfiction #will ironhead miller #william ironhead miller x f! reader #will ironhead miller x you #william ironhead miller x reader #will ironhead miller x reader #william ironhead miller #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction

[gmwsuperfan5467890]

Random NHIE season 3 scenarios that I want.

-The overarching storyline needs to be the SATs! We can’t have 3 seasons of them being in sophomore year.

-Devi and Ben’s rivalry is at an all time high, this is the final showdown (before valedictorian ofc). They compete over who knows the most SAT vocab words in the hallway and who knows the most obscure chemistry facts.

-Devi, Ben, Fabiola, Eleanor and Aneesa form their own study group. I think it’ll be a great way to group all the characters together and have them reflect on whatever is currently going on in their lives in a place without all their other peers. Paxton and Trent could drop by occasionally.

-Paxton applying to colleges. It would be interesting if he decides to so something on the more manual side, like being a car mechanic or a carpenter. Or maybe he gets a storyline where he realizes how much he loves restoring old cars and decides that he would like his own car repair shop.

-Paxton having the opposite of senioritis because he has to raise his GPA.

-Paxton, Ben, Eleanor and Fabiola having a friendship.

-Paxton and Aneesa having a friendship. Maybe they could have a conversation about how much they struggled not being able to play/do their respective sports. Aneesa bc she probably had to take time off when her eating disorder got really bad and Paxton bc of his broken arm. Maybe Aneesa encourages Paxton to swim again since he’s afraid that he won’t be as good as before.

-I want Fabiola and Eve to break up. The fact that Fabiola had to compromise her individuality to impress Eve’s friends is just sad and Eve just enabled it. Fabiola deserves better.

-I want Fabiola to have a new love interest. Maybe a new girl joins her robotics team and Fabiola is in awe of her skills and crazy intimidated but then they bond, become best friends and fall in love.

-Or Fabiola and Eleanor fall in love. I’ve seen other creators on tumblr post about some subtle moments between them that makes me go👀👀 . So I’m all for it. Plus I would love for the show to have a bi character and Eleanor gives me bi vibes.

-Ben and Devi end up tying for the highest score in the SATs or Fabiola gets the highest score and Ben and Devi tie for 2nd place.

-We need to see Devi learn how to drive! We need a scene of Nalini teaching Devi how to drive! During their first lesson, they would argue while driving, thus letting Devi hit a garbage can, that splatters trash all over the road. After this, Nalini decides to give up teaching Devi how to drive.

-So Devi asks/bribes Ben to teach her how to drive. They argue about whether Devi is going too fast or how swift their turns are but eventually Devi becomes more controlled on the road and this experience becomes really fun, in fact it may be the best part of the day for them (neither of them would admit that tho). Sometimes after a driving lesson, they’d stop for ice-cream and talk about deep shit that they wouldn’t tell anyone else.

-Devi passes her driving test for the first time and Devi thanks Ben but Paxton is like, “What why didn’t you ask me to teach you?” And Devi cannot give him an answer because she doesn’t know why she instinctively went to Ben first and didn’t even consider asking Paxton and Paxton leaves upset. They don’t break up that point but this is one of the little seedlings that plants their break-up. Like Devi didn’t know that Paxton started swimming again. Neither of them go to each other when they’re in trouble or facing an emotional dilemma, in fact neither of them even know/notice when the other is in an emotional dilemma. I wouldn’t be surprised they use Oaxton graduating as an excuse to break up and they break up amicably at Prom. It’ll be a full-circle moment.

-We also need an ep of Paxton graduating.

-We also need a POV ep from Aneesa/Fabiola/Eleanor.

-I really want a bottle episode, like whodunnit themed.

- Or even a treasure hunt episode, where everyone in the school goes crazy looking for the list of items for the treasure hunt as the winner gets Lady Gaga concert tickets or smth like that.

- Devi, Nirmala, Kamala and Nalini bonding pls.

-Nalini to thrive.

- Devi going to therapy.

-Nalini and Devi going to therapy together, then Nalini starts going on her own as well.

-More Mohan flashbacks.

-Kamala x Mr Kulkarni. Let’s gooo!

-But break up with Prashant first.

-More Mr Kulkarni! Ngl the English assignments are way cooler than the history ones and Mr Kulkarni isn’t a try-hard.

-Mr Kulkarni tells Mr Shapiro to shut the fuck up. Please and thank you.

-Mr Shapiro gets fired because he gives his students edibles or smth because one student told him about a study that says students learn better while high. His fake-woke ass falls for it.

-Aneesa and Ben break up.

Ok, I’m done.

#never have i ever #season 3 #nhie #benvi #ben x devi #d*xton #paxton hall yoshida #devi vishwakumar #ben gross #fabiola torres #fabiola x eleanor #eleanor wong #aneesa qureshi #mr sh*piro #mr kulkarni #kamala nandiwadal #nalini vishwakumar #nirmala vishwakumar