In My Yearning Era

Paige | 24 | Amateur writer | I’m just hanging on until I find my next hyper-fixation

[nerdy-novelist017]

📖 Paige's Masterlist 📖

I’m just a girl who’s obsessed with fictional men, ok? Thank you so much to everyone who has encouraged me to post on here because without you, I would have never created an entire masterlist for my silly little stories. Please enjoy my ramblings ;)

The Bikeriders

The Crow

Moodboards

Benny x Bunny

Benny x Bunny

[nerdy-novelist017]

Love your writing. I missed you 😭😭🫶

I’ve missed all of you!!! 🩷🩷🩷

[nerdy-novelist017]

Do you plan on watching the new movie that Austin will be in?

Oh of course! I watch all of Austin’s movies like the faithful girlfriend I am 😉

[the-golden-dragoness]

I am sorry to everyone who tagged me in some tag game and I never responded. I saw it and thought “aww they thought of me” and proceeded to forget about it right after

[nerdy-novelist017]

Eek! So excited to see something new from you on the dash. No pressure, but I hope there's more coming!

Glad you enjoyed it! I’ve missed you guys! This community has been so so kind and supportive to me! I hope to be publishing stuff on here at least once a week. I might branch out and write more than just BennyxBunny content since I have a few other ideas brewing 😏

[nerdy-novelist017]

More Than Rest (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

Hiiii :) I honestly have no excuse for my lack of updates other than life is really busy rn. But I really hope you guys aren't too frustrated with me and still want to read some Benny x Bunny content. Here's a little scene I wrote when I was in my feels and missing Benny Cross

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Summary- He never sleeps. Not really. Not the kind of sleep that’s safe, deep, unguarded. But when Benny finally lets go—shirtless, sun-drenched, and halfway out of his jeans—it’s beside you, wrapped in the sound of your voice and the scent of your shampoo.

Word Count- 2.8k

**********

The air had gone syrup-thick, slow like molasses, heavy with the weight of another midwestern summer afternoon.

Sunlight poured in through the trailer window in soft golden ribbons, catching on the dust that floated lazily like snowflakes that had forgotten how to fall. Outside, the cicadas sang their shrill chorus, endless and loud, while the fan in the window gave a weary clatter with each turn, doing its best to stir the heat but failing with quiet dignity.

Benny lay sprawled flat on his back across the tangled sheets, shirtless, sun-kissed skin gleaming faintly with sweat that clung to every sharp line of his torso. One arm was slung over his eyes, his fingers curled loosely like he was trying to disappear beneath the weight of the day—or maybe just into the comfort of the bed itself. His other arm rested by his side, hand limp, calloused fingertips twitching now and then in the sticky heat.

His jeans were halfway undone, the button popped open and the zipper tugged down just enough to hint at the waistband of his boxers. The denim clung low on his hips, creased and faded and worn soft in a way that made your throat tighten. The kind of undone that didn’t look accidental, even if it was. The kind of undone that made him look almost obscene in his beauty, in that unbothered, sleep-heavy sprawl.

He smelled like summer and metal and motor oil - something rough and real and deeply him - but there was still a trace of you on his skin. A faint sweetness clinging to his collarbone, the ghost of your strawberry shampoo from when your head had rested there earlier that morning.

He looked like sin left out in the sun. And he didn’t even know it.

You were sprawled out beside him, stretched on your stomach like a lazy cat, flipping through a sun-wrinkled magazine with a smudged pink lip print on the cover and water stains along the edges. Swimming in one of his old undershirts – white, too big, slipping off one bare shoulder, your legs kicked absently behind you, ankles crossing and uncrossing in the air like you had nowhere to be and no one else to be.

You read aloud in a singsong voice, every word lilting and golden, warm enough to spin the stale air around them into something soft and sweet.

“‘Ten Signs He’s Secretly Thinking About Marriage,’” you announced, clearly delighted by the headline.

Benny didn’t so much as twitch.

“Number one…” you continued, twirling a strand of hair around you finger, “he gazes at you when he thinks you’re not looking.”

You peeked over your shoulder at him with a grin. “You do that.”

From beneath his arm came a low, stubborn grunt. “No, I don’t.”

You smirked and went right on reading. “Number two…he does little chores for you without being asked.”

Another noncommittal grunt from his side.

Smirked, you pointed out, “Like how you always untangle my necklaces. Or how you replaced the lightbulb in the closet after I stubbed my toe and threatened to burn the whole place down.”

Still nothing besides a breathy hum.

“Number three…” you went on, legs swaying lazily behind you, toes brushing the edge of the fan’s breeze. “‘He lets you pick the music.’” You scoffed. “Yeah, right. You act like my records might bite you if you get too close.”

That got a reaction.

Barely, but you saw it.

The corner of his mouth twitched. A ghost of a smile. The faintest suggestion of dimples beneath stubble. But his eyes stayed closed, his head tilted slightly to the side, arm still thrown over his forehead like he was shielding himself from the world—or from you

“Number four…” you continued, but the words came slower now. You had to swallow to keep going. “‘He tells you about his childhood.’”

Silence bloomed in the space between you. 

The page stopped moving beneath your hand, fingers still. You stared at the print but didn’t see it. Your lips parted, but the next words didn’t come. Because the air had shifted again—grown thick in a different way. Not with heat, but with memory.

Because Benny didn’t talk about his past in the way most people did. He never sat you down and said this happened to me. He never unraveled himself in one clean thread. He gave pieces. Tiny, jagged pieces. Offhand comments dropped like loose change. Things you weren’t  supposed to catch – but did.

One night, long after midnight, when the only light in the room was the blue glow of the microwave clock, he’d murmured it while staring at the ceiling: “Used to sleep in the closet when I was little. Figured if they couldn’t see me, they’d forget I was there.”

You didn't know what to say. 

Another night, after too much beer and not enough food, he’d added, “Even now? Don’t think I’ve ever slept more than an hour at a time. Not deep. Not like you.”

And then—after you had reached for his hand in the dark and he hadn’t pulled away—he had said the one that gutted you.

“Had a system. Kept my shoes on, just in case I had to run. Slept with a flashlight under the pillow, knife taped to the mattress springs.”

He hadn’t looked at her when he said it. Hadn’t blinked. Just kept staring out the window, as if the darkness might look back.

“That’s probably why I don’t sleep much now,” he added with a shrug. “Can’t tell if it’s habit or if my body just thinks rest’ll get me killed.”

You could still hear the way he’d said it. Like it was just a fact. Like it didn’t hollow out your chest to imagine a younger version of him flinching at footsteps in the hall. Holding his breath at the sound of keys in the door.

Your throat tightened.

You stared down at the wrinkled page, the words bleeding together into soft-edged nonsense. The cheap perfume sample tucked into the binding had long since faded, but you could still smell the paper—sun-warmed and dusty, like old laundry and summer heat.

Your fingers stayed still.

And for a while, you didn’t move. Just breathed. Just listened to the fan clink its tired rhythm in the window and the cicadas shrieking outside like they’d never known quiet. Your heart ached in your chest, too full of things you couldn’t say aloud.

Because you’d never known anyone like him. Someone so hard-edged, so bruised and wary, yet capable of such impossible softness when no one else was looking.

You blinked once before turning your head to glance over your shoulder at him.

And the sight of him undid you all over again.

He was asleep. Really asleep.

That same arm still draped over his eyes, but his hand had gone slack. His jaw had loosened, lips parted just slightly, the faintest breath slipping past them. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady rhythm, the kind of breathing that only came when a body had let go. Completely. Utterly. Trustingly.

Every inch of bruised skin left bare by the rumpled sheet. Every scar, every freckle, every old burn or faded scrape that hinted at a boy who’d learned to survive before he ever learned to rest. And yet – here he was. Laid out beside her, utterly unguarded, as if she were a shelter he had finally chosen. As if this bed, this hour, this closeness was something sacred.

It was too much.

Too much tenderness to carry. Too much weight behind the silence.

“Safe ain’t a thing I ever learned how to be,” he’d told you, once, voice thick from bourbon and exhaustion. “So when I’m next to you, it don’t feel right. Feels like I’m waitin’ for the catch.”

You turned her face away, back toward the forgotten magazine still open in your lap. But the words had blurred beyond recognition. The page rippled beneath her fingers as you blinked hard.

You swiped at your cheek, brushing the tear which had escaped. But it kept coming. Thick, warm tears that slipped free before you could catch them, running soundlessly down your face and soaking into the collar of his undershirt you still wore. There was no sobbing. No trembling. Just a kind of quiet, overwhelming grief—too big for your ribs to hold and too soft to scream.

Grief for the child he’d been, sleeping in closets with his shoes on. Grief for the man he became, carved out of silence and hard choices. And most of all—for this moment. For the trust he offered now, without words, simply by sleeping beside you like he believed he wouldn’t need to run.

You bit your lip to keep from making a sound. Tried to breathe through the ache—but it broke free as a shudder, small and sharp, curling in your chest.

And that’s when he stirred.

Just a shift at first—a flicker of motion through his body, a twitch of his shoulder. Then he went still. Completely still. Like some instinct inside him had gone taut in the space of a heartbeat.

You heard it before he spoke: the change in his breathing. The subtle hitch. That flicker of awareness clawing its way back to the surface.

Then, his voice—low, rough with sleep, and laced with something that sounded like worry. “Bun?”

You sniffled, barely more than a sound, and wiped at your cheek with the back of your hand like it meant nothing. Like the tears weren’t real if you caught them fast enough.

“I’m okay,” you whispered. But it wasn’t even a lie—it was a hope, said out loud.

Benny blinked, slow and disoriented, still tangled in the haze of sleep. But the moment his eyes landed on you – curled at the edge of the bed, turned away from him, shoulders trembling in that quiet, repressed way that said don’t look at me, please don’t look at me – something in him fractured.

You looked like someone trying to disappear.

And that undid him.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask permission. Just moved.

Slower than instinct. But with more certainty than he’d ever had.

The air kissed his skin, still damp with sleep as he pushed himself up with one elbow. Every muscle in his body ached with the weight of dreams he hadn’t meant to fall into. But none of it mattered.

You were crying. And he’d missed it.

So he crawled – quietly, carefully – to the foot of the bed where you lay, curled like a child hiding from a storm. Each shift of his body made the mattress creak, but you didn’t flinch. Didn’t look at him.

By the time you turned your head fully to look at him, he was there—behind you, beside you, with you—one arm sliding beneath your chest, the other draping across your lower back as he lowered himself over you, curling along the curve of your body like he belonged there. He pressed his chest to your spine, his breath warm at your ear. His jeans were still unbuttoned, slung low on his hips, skin hot from sleep and the sun-drenched bed. You felt every inch of him, solid and real and right there.

“Sweetheart…” It wasn’t even a question, just a gentle plea.

“I’m fine,” you tried again, but it cracked on the way out.

His arm around you tightened. Not in fear. Not in panic. Just in that quiet, desperate way people hold each other when words aren’t enough.

“Tell me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Please. Just tell me what’s breaking you.”

You turned her face into the pillow, as if that might protect you from the truth.

“I don’t know,” you breathed. But then—your voice wavered, and the truth began to rise like floodwater. “You were sleeping. Really sleeping. And you never do that, Benny. You never let go. And I just kept thinking… all those nights you spent afraid to close your eyes. The things you must’ve heard through the walls. The things you didn’t tell me. You were just a boy, and no one came for you. And now you’re here. With me. And you looked so peaceful, like something finally let go inside you. And it just—” Your breath shuddered. “I didn’t know it would hurt to see you safe.”

“Bunny…” His thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching another tear. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far. I didn’t think I’d ever find a place where I could close my eyes and not feel like I was being hunted.”

You turned slightly then, just enough for him to see the glint of your tears in the light.

He kissed you – gently. Once. Just below your eye, where the salt clung to your skin.

“That wasn’t sleep,” he said softly. “That was surrender. That was you.”

You let out a trembling laugh that hurt to hear. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I’m not,” he said, pressing a kiss to your other cheek. “You cry, I wake up. That’s the deal.”

Benny buried his nose in your hair, took a breath, and exhaled like the weight of her grief had somehow lessened his own.

You let out a small breath—shaky, wet, but gentling now that he was there. All around you. His weight draped over your back like a blanket, his arm snug across your waist, holding you close in that silent way he always did, like he didn’t trust words half as much as touch.

The tears didn’t stop completely. But they quieted. Softened. Fell slower.

Benny didn’t speak again right away. Just rested his cheek against the back of your head, his chest rising and falling against your spine like a lullaby. His fingers curled into the hem of the oversized shirt you wore—his shirt—and for a moment, the silence swelled full and sacred.

Then, after a pause long enough you thought he might’ve fallen asleep again, you heard his voice. Muffled. Sleep-rough. Almost shy.

“Hey…”

You hummed in response, too tired to speak.

“Weren’t you in the middle of reading me somethin’?” he asked.

You blinked, smile tugging slow at your lips. “You mean the article about how to tell if your boyfriend’s thinking about marriage?”

“Yeah.” He shifted slightly, one leg sliding between yours as he pulled you even closer. “That one.”

You turned your face toward the edge of the mattress, blinking at the sun-wrinkled magazine still splayed open a few inches away, half-tangled in the sheets.

“I thought you said my records bite,” you murmured, teasing gently. “Pretty sure that means you don’t trust my taste.”

He let out a small grunt—almost a laugh—and nuzzled against your hair like he could burrow deeper into you.

“I trust your voice,” he said, voice going quieter. “Don’t care what you’re readin’. Could be the back of a soup can for all I care.”

You smiled again. A real one this time. Small, but glowing.

“You’re lucky,” you said, reaching for the magazine with one hand, still tucked under the weight of his body. “Because this quiz has five more signs, and I know you’re dying to know if you pass.”

“Oh, I’m nervous as hell,” he murmured, voice dripping with fake solemnity, even as his mouth brushed your shoulder. “Lay it on me.”

You adjusted the magazine against the sheets, flipping to the right page, and cleared your throat dramatically.

“Number five,” you read aloud. “‘He talks about the future like you’re already a part of it.’”

Benny was quiet for a second.

Then he murmured, “I think I told you last week that we should plant tomatoes next spring.”

“You did,” you said. “You also said we’d need netting to keep the birds from eating them.”

“Then I’m five for five,” he said, his voice warm and slow and dripping with satisfaction. “Keep goin’. I wanna see if I score perfect.”

You flipped the page, snickering under your breath. “Number six… he picks up on your moods—even the quiet ones.”

His hand squeezed your side, thumb brushing your ribs.

“Next,” he whispered into your skin.

Your smile spread. God, it hurt to love him this much.

“Number seven,” you continued, “he says ‘we’ more than ‘I.’”

Benny shifted, lifting himself just slightly so he could press a kiss to your temple.

“We’re gonna need new sheets if you keep cryin’ on this set,” he said gently. “We’re gonna wear this bed out at this rate.”

You let out a small laugh, sniffled once, and kept reading. The tears were drying now. The ache was still there—but it had been wrapped in something warmer. Something real.

“Keep going,” he mumbled.

So you did.

Even long after he’d fallen asleep, you kept reading. Just in case his dreams were listening.

-Tag List-

@elizabeth916 @imusicaddict @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @charmingballoon @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @justsomewritingblog @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @pao-prazz @thedreamingfish99 @mrsalwayswrite

[mrsalwayswrite]

When I tell you I'm OBSESSED with how perfectly you write soft!Benny...I'm supposed to be sleeping but I'm over here swooning instead!

This was so sweet. I loved the article she was reading and how it was able to highlight aspects of their relationship and the future they were working towards. Plus the glimpses of Benny's past...😭😭 and how gentle he is touching her, reassuring her of his presence. He didn't jump down her throat and demand why she was crying. He immediately sought to comfort and seek understanding. But also the description of him in the beginning and his (lack of) attire was 🥵 that's gonna be living rent free in my head now, thankyouverymuch.

What an absolutely fantastic read! I've missed Benny x Bunny and this was just delightful. Thanks for sharing this with us! ❤️❤️❤️

[nerdy-novelist017]

Oh my god! You’re seriously too kind to me! 😭 I don’t know what to do with this much validation lol thank you so much! You guys seriously make me believe that I could pursue my dream of being a published author someday! Reading this has put a smile on my face after a rough day 🩷

PS. Who needs sleep when we have fanfics to read?? 😉

[nerdy-novelist017]

More Than Rest (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

Hiiii :) I honestly have no excuse for my lack of updates other than life is really busy rn. But I really hope you guys aren't too frustrated with me and still want to read some Benny x Bunny content. Here's a little scene I wrote when I was in my feels and missing Benny Cross

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Summary- He never sleeps. Not really. Not the kind of sleep that’s safe, deep, unguarded. But when Benny finally lets go—shirtless, sun-drenched, and halfway out of his jeans—it’s beside you, wrapped in the sound of your voice and the scent of your shampoo.

Word Count- 2.8k

**********

The air had gone syrup-thick, slow like molasses, heavy with the weight of another midwestern summer afternoon.

Sunlight poured in through the trailer window in soft golden ribbons, catching on the dust that floated lazily like snowflakes that had forgotten how to fall. Outside, the cicadas sang their shrill chorus, endless and loud, while the fan in the window gave a weary clatter with each turn, doing its best to stir the heat but failing with quiet dignity.

Benny lay sprawled flat on his back across the tangled sheets, shirtless, sun-kissed skin gleaming faintly with sweat that clung to every sharp line of his torso. One arm was slung over his eyes, his fingers curled loosely like he was trying to disappear beneath the weight of the day—or maybe just into the comfort of the bed itself. His other arm rested by his side, hand limp, calloused fingertips twitching now and then in the sticky heat.

His jeans were halfway undone, the button popped open and the zipper tugged down just enough to hint at the waistband of his boxers. The denim clung low on his hips, creased and faded and worn soft in a way that made your throat tighten. The kind of undone that didn’t look accidental, even if it was. The kind of undone that made him look almost obscene in his beauty, in that unbothered, sleep-heavy sprawl.

He smelled like summer and metal and motor oil - something rough and real and deeply him - but there was still a trace of you on his skin. A faint sweetness clinging to his collarbone, the ghost of your strawberry shampoo from when your head had rested there earlier that morning.

He looked like sin left out in the sun. And he didn’t even know it.

You were sprawled out beside him, stretched on your stomach like a lazy cat, flipping through a sun-wrinkled magazine with a smudged pink lip print on the cover and water stains along the edges. Swimming in one of his old undershirts – white, too big, slipping off one bare shoulder, your legs kicked absently behind you, ankles crossing and uncrossing in the air like you had nowhere to be and no one else to be.

You read aloud in a singsong voice, every word lilting and golden, warm enough to spin the stale air around them into something soft and sweet.

“‘Ten Signs He’s Secretly Thinking About Marriage,’” you announced, clearly delighted by the headline.

Benny didn’t so much as twitch.

“Number one…” you continued, twirling a strand of hair around you finger, “he gazes at you when he thinks you’re not looking.”

You peeked over your shoulder at him with a grin. “You do that.”

From beneath his arm came a low, stubborn grunt. “No, I don’t.”

You smirked and went right on reading. “Number two…he does little chores for you without being asked.”

Another noncommittal grunt from his side.

Smirked, you pointed out, “Like how you always untangle my necklaces. Or how you replaced the lightbulb in the closet after I stubbed my toe and threatened to burn the whole place down.”

Still nothing besides a breathy hum.

“Number three…” you went on, legs swaying lazily behind you, toes brushing the edge of the fan’s breeze. “‘He lets you pick the music.’” You scoffed. “Yeah, right. You act like my records might bite you if you get too close.”

That got a reaction.

Barely, but you saw it.

The corner of his mouth twitched. A ghost of a smile. The faintest suggestion of dimples beneath stubble. But his eyes stayed closed, his head tilted slightly to the side, arm still thrown over his forehead like he was shielding himself from the world—or from you

“Number four…” you continued, but the words came slower now. You had to swallow to keep going. “‘He tells you about his childhood.’”

Silence bloomed in the space between you. 

The page stopped moving beneath your hand, fingers still. You stared at the print but didn’t see it. Your lips parted, but the next words didn’t come. Because the air had shifted again—grown thick in a different way. Not with heat, but with memory.

Because Benny didn’t talk about his past in the way most people did. He never sat you down and said this happened to me. He never unraveled himself in one clean thread. He gave pieces. Tiny, jagged pieces. Offhand comments dropped like loose change. Things you weren’t  supposed to catch – but did.

One night, long after midnight, when the only light in the room was the blue glow of the microwave clock, he’d murmured it while staring at the ceiling: “Used to sleep in the closet when I was little. Figured if they couldn’t see me, they’d forget I was there.”

You didn't know what to say. 

Another night, after too much beer and not enough food, he’d added, “Even now? Don’t think I’ve ever slept more than an hour at a time. Not deep. Not like you.”

And then—after you had reached for his hand in the dark and he hadn’t pulled away—he had said the one that gutted you.

“Had a system. Kept my shoes on, just in case I had to run. Slept with a flashlight under the pillow, knife taped to the mattress springs.”

He hadn’t looked at you when he said it. Hadn’t blinked. Just kept staring out the window, as if the darkness might look back.

“That’s probably why I don’t sleep much now,” he added with a shrug. “Can’t tell if it’s habit or if my body just thinks rest’ll get me killed.”

You could still hear the way he’d said it. Like it was just a fact. Like it didn’t hollow out your chest to imagine a younger version of him flinching at footsteps in the hall. Holding his breath at the sound of keys in the door.

Your throat tightened.

You stared down at the wrinkled page, the words bleeding together into soft-edged nonsense. The cheap perfume sample tucked into the binding had long since faded, but you could still smell the paper—sun-warmed and dusty, like old laundry and summer heat.

Your fingers stayed still.

And for a while, you didn’t move. Just breathed. Just listened to the fan clink its tired rhythm in the window and the cicadas shrieking outside like they’d never known quiet. Your heart ached in your chest, too full of things you couldn’t say aloud.

Because you’d never known anyone like him. Someone so hard-edged, so bruised and wary, yet capable of such impossible softness when no one else was looking.

You blinked once before turning your head to glance over your shoulder at him.

And the sight of him undid you all over again.

He was asleep. Really asleep.

That same arm still draped over his eyes, but his hand had gone slack. His jaw had loosened, lips parted just slightly, the faintest breath slipping past them. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady rhythm, the kind of breathing that only came when a body had let go. Completely. Utterly. Trustingly.

Every inch of bruised skin left bare by the rumpled sheet. Every scar, every freckle, every old burn or faded scrape that hinted at a boy who’d learned to survive before he ever learned to rest. And yet – here he was. Laid out beside you, utterly unguarded, as if you were a shelter he had finally chosen. As if this bed, this hour, this closeness was something sacred.

It was too much.

Too much tenderness to carry. Too much weight behind the silence.

“Safe ain’t a thing I ever learned how to be,” he’d told you, once, voice thick from bourbon and exhaustion. “So when I’m next to you, it don’t feel right. Feels like I’m waitin’ for the catch.”

You turned her face away, back toward the forgotten magazine still open in your lap. But the words had blurred beyond recognition. The page rippled beneath her fingers as you blinked hard.

You swiped at your cheek, brushing the tear which had escaped. But it kept coming. Thick, warm tears that slipped free before you could catch them, running soundlessly down your face and soaking into the collar of his undershirt you still wore. There was no sobbing. No trembling. Just a kind of quiet, overwhelming grief—too big for your ribs to hold and too soft to scream.

Grief for the child he’d been, sleeping in closets with his shoes on. Grief for the man he became, carved out of silence and hard choices. And most of all—for this moment. For the trust he offered now, without words, simply by sleeping beside you like he believed he wouldn’t need to run.

You bit your lip to keep from making a sound. Tried to breathe through the ache—but it broke free as a shudder, small and sharp, curling in your chest.

And that’s when he stirred.

Just a shift at first—a flicker of motion through his body, a twitch of his shoulder. Then he went still. Completely still. Like some instinct inside him had gone taut in the space of a heartbeat.

You heard it before he spoke: the change in his breathing. The subtle hitch. That flicker of awareness clawing its way back to the surface.

Then, his voice—low, rough with sleep, and laced with something that sounded like worry. “Bun?”

You sniffled, barely more than a sound, and wiped at your cheek with the back of your hand like it meant nothing. Like the tears weren’t real if you caught them fast enough.

“I’m okay,” you whispered. But it wasn’t even a lie—it was a hope, said out loud.

Benny blinked, slow and disoriented, still tangled in the haze of sleep. But the moment his eyes landed on you – curled at the edge of the bed, turned away from him, shoulders trembling in that quiet, repressed way that said don’t look at me, please don’t look at me – something in him fractured.

You looked like someone trying to disappear.

And that undid him.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask permission. Just moved.

Slower than instinct. But with more certainty than he’d ever had.

The air kissed his skin, still damp with sleep as he pushed himself up with one elbow. Every muscle in his body ached with the weight of dreams he hadn’t meant to fall into. But none of it mattered.

You were crying. And he’d missed it.

So he crawled – quietly, carefully – to the foot of the bed where you lay, curled like a child hiding from a storm. Each shift of his body made the mattress creak, but you didn’t flinch. Didn’t look at him.

By the time you turned your head fully to look at him, he was there—behind you, beside you, with you—one arm sliding beneath your chest, the other draping across your lower back as he lowered himself over you, curling along the curve of your body like he belonged there. He pressed his chest to your spine, his breath warm at your ear. His jeans were still unbuttoned, slung low on his hips, skin hot from sleep and the sun-drenched bed. You felt every inch of him, solid and real and right there.

“Sweetheart…” It wasn’t even a question, just a gentle plea.

“I’m fine,” you tried again, but it cracked on the way out.

His arm around you tightened. Not in fear. Not in panic. Just in that quiet, desperate way people hold each other when words aren’t enough.

“Tell me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Please. Just tell me what’s breaking you.”

You turned her face into the pillow, as if that might protect you from the truth.

“I don’t know,” you breathed. But then—your voice wavered, and the truth began to rise like floodwater. “You were sleeping. Really sleeping. And you never do that, Benny. You never let go. And I just kept thinking… all those nights you spent afraid to close your eyes. The things you must’ve heard through the walls. The things you didn’t tell me. You were just a boy, and no one came for you. And now you’re here. With me. And you looked so peaceful, like something finally let go inside you. And it just—” Your breath shuddered. “I didn’t know it would hurt to see you safe.”

“Bunny…” His thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching another tear. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far. I didn’t think I’d ever find a place where I could close my eyes and not feel like I was being hunted.”

You turned slightly then, just enough for him to see the glint of your tears in the light.

He kissed you – gently. Once. Just below your eye, where the salt clung to your skin.

“That wasn’t sleep,” he said softly. “That was surrender. That was you.”

You let out a trembling laugh that hurt to hear. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I’m not,” he said, pressing a kiss to your other cheek. “You cry, I wake up. That’s the deal.”

Benny buried his nose in your hair, took a breath, and exhaled like the weight of her grief had somehow lessened his own.

You let out a small breath—shaky, wet, but gentling now that he was there. All around you. His weight draped over your back like a blanket, his arm snug across your waist, holding you close in that silent way he always did, like he didn’t trust words half as much as touch.

The tears didn’t stop completely. But they quieted. Softened. Fell slower.

Benny didn’t speak again right away. Just rested his cheek against the back of your head, his chest rising and falling against your spine like a lullaby. His fingers curled into the hem of the oversized shirt you wore—his shirt—and for a moment, the silence swelled full and sacred.

Then, after a pause long enough you thought he might’ve fallen asleep again, you heard his voice. Muffled. Sleep-rough. Almost shy.

“Hey…”

You hummed in response, too tired to speak.

“Weren’t you in the middle of reading me somethin’?” he asked.

You blinked, smile tugging slow at your lips. “You mean the article about how to tell if your boyfriend’s thinking about marriage?”

“Yeah.” He shifted slightly, one leg sliding between yours as he pulled you even closer. “That one.”

You turned your face toward the edge of the mattress, blinking at the sun-wrinkled magazine still splayed open a few inches away, half-tangled in the sheets.

“I thought you said my records bite,” you murmured, teasing gently. “Pretty sure that means you don’t trust my taste.”

He let out a small grunt—almost a laugh—and nuzzled against your hair like he could burrow deeper into you.

“I trust your voice,” he said, voice going quieter. “Don’t care what you’re readin’. Could be the back of a soup can for all I care.”

You smiled again. A real one this time. Small, but glowing.

“You’re lucky,” you said, reaching for the magazine with one hand, still tucked under the weight of his body. “Because this quiz has five more signs, and I know you’re dying to know if you pass.”

“Oh, I’m nervous as hell,” he murmured, voice dripping with fake solemnity, even as his mouth brushed your shoulder. “Lay it on me.”

You adjusted the magazine against the sheets, flipping to the right page, and cleared your throat dramatically.

“Number five,” you read aloud. “‘He talks about the future like you’re already a part of it.’”

Benny was quiet for a second.

Then he murmured, “I think I told you last week that we should plant tomatoes next spring.”

“You did,” you said. “You also said we’d need netting to keep the birds from eating them.”

“Then I’m five for five,” he said, his voice warm and slow and dripping with satisfaction. “Keep goin’. I wanna see if I score perfect.”

You flipped the page, snickering under your breath. “Number six… he picks up on your moods—even the quiet ones.”

His hand squeezed your side, thumb brushing your ribs.

“Next,” he whispered into your skin.

Your smile spread. God, it hurt to love him this much.

“Number seven,” you continued, “he says ‘we’ more than ‘I.’”

Benny shifted, lifting himself just slightly so he could press a kiss to your temple.

“We’re gonna need new sheets if you keep cryin’ on this set,” he said gently. “We’re gonna wear this bed out at this rate.”

You let out a small laugh, sniffled once, and kept reading. The tears were drying now. The ache was still there—but it had been wrapped in something warmer. Something real.

“Keep going,” he mumbled.

So you did.

Even long after he’d fallen asleep, you kept reading. Just in case his dreams were listening.

-Tag List-

@elizabeth916 @imusicaddict @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @charmingballoon @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @justsomewritingblog @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @pao-prazz @thedreamingfish99 @mrsalwayswrite

[nerdy-novelist017]

Hey sweetie! I just wanted to say hi. I hope you’re doing well. 😘❤️

Hi! I’ve been good. Very busy with life unfortunately! Been working a lot and reading even more. I haven’t had much time or creative energy to do any writing. Life has been up and down recently but I really really miss you guys! This community has been so kind, so validating, so supportive and I really appreciate all of you!

I’m going to try to get back into posting regularly (at least once a week) because you guys deserve that!

I’ll be posting something cute tonight so keep an eye out for that! 🩷

Also! I made a bookstagram if you lovelies would like to give it a follow!

[nerdy-novelist017]

Your man can only make you one dish. What's he making for you?

Girl, one of my fav dishes is a good chicken fettuccine Alfredo 🥰 do we think Benny could handle that? I think that even if it turned out horrible, I’d still love the effort he put into it because my man is an Acts of Service puppy all the way!

[nerdy-novelist017]

Paige!! How are we feeling about Austin's buzzcut?

GIRL—

I’m devastated 😭 I loved his beautiful curls, and I would have given anything for a chance to run my fingers through them! They looked so soft and fluffy.

I mean, his face card never declines, but it was definitely a jump scare moment

[nerdy-novelist017]

Missing you and Bunny, darling! I hope you're doing well 💕

Awww I miss you too!! Sorry I’ve been so MIA lately! 🥲 the holidays are a bit of a rough time of the year for me. Ive been reading a lot and taking some time to write my actual novel. I’ve really neglected you guys and I’m so sorry for that!

I love and appreciate you guys so so much! I hope to put out some fluffy pieces for you soon! 🩷

(In case anyone is wondering, I’ve been reading the Acotar series for the first time and omgggg it’s so good! I’m on ACOWAR and I’m in love! I have a new book boyfriend 🥰)

[easybbgrl]

Tag game👻

I was tagged by @whatever-lmaoo and @daryldixonpls 🥹💕

last song you listened to? blue- billie eillish

silver or gold jewelry? I prefer silver/white gold; but most of my rings are yellow gold bc they’re replicas of Elvis’ jewelry 😂

do you have any tattoos? I have 20. Mostly music related- harry styles, elvis presley, Chester Bennington, linkin park, John mayer, 100 monkeys, spencer bell (LOOK HIM UP), imagine dragons, jackson rathbone (don’t shoot me, it was 2010 twilight insanity hahaha)

piercings? Ears and nose. I want septum and probably belly button (i blame the post-divorce millenial hoe-phase haha)

currently reading or favorite book? I’m currently reading Shantaram, A Generation of Sociopaths, and infinite fanfic (currently on a pedro pascal character deep-dive)

a hobby you would like to try? I want to try lacemaking, and machine embroidery for patch-making (like the cuts on The Bikeriders)

coffee or tea? Tea!! Loose leaf. All kinds (esp floral shit). The stronger the better. No honey.

favorite video game? All-time fave is probably hearthstone, but I hate it now bc of the stupid teams mode 😵‍💫😭

star sign? I know nothing hahah

who is your hear me out? The Menendez Brothers- and NOT because of the documentaries that have come out recently. I’ve been simping them for decades 🥵

No pressure tags: (is anyone even not tagged yet??) @potter-solomons @pomtherine @spaghettificationandpretzels @lyralu91 @zablife @mermaidgirl30

[zablife]

Thanks for the tag @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler !

last song you listened to? Myth-Beach House

silver or gold jewelry? Both, but I've been wearing more gold recently

do you have any tattoos? 3

piercings? yes

currently reading or favorite book? Rereading The Electric Koolaid Acid Test

a hobby you would like to try? Silk screening

coffee or tea? Tea

favorite video game? I'm not into gaming, but I did enjoy playing Stray when it came out

star sign? Pisces

who is your hear me out? Tony Soprano-It's not only the element of danger in being with a mafioso, nor is it the BDE I get from his swagger. For me, it's the fantasy of having a partner who understands my need to consume copious amounts of pasta without judgement 😂

No pressure tag: @mayfieldss, @nerdy-novelist017, @garrison-girl-08, @little-diable, @holacia3

[nerdy-novelist017]

Thanks for tagging me, girlie! @zablife

Last song you listened to? My Eyes by The Lumineers 🍂

Silver or gold jewelry? I love both but all of my jewelry is silver. 💍

Do you have any tattoos? Nope! ❌

Piercings? I have my ears double pierced and a belly button piercing (makes me feel like a badass lol) 🩷

Currently reading? I’m about to start Fourth Wing hehe nervous because everyone has really hyped it up. 📖

A hobby you would like to try? I keep seeing videos of these beautiful girls figure skating and it makes me so jealous. I’ve tried ice skating before but I suck at it. Maybe one day I’ll actually try taking lessons ⛸️

Coffee or tea? I hate the taste of coffee lol so definitely tea 🫖

Favorite video game? Fallout 4 and Red Dead Redemption 2 will forever be in my heart 💜

Star sign? Libra ♎️

Who is your hear me out? Girllll, that’s a dangerous confession lol 😂 I have so many and I feel you guys would look at me differently but here’s a few of the tamer ones: Captain Jack Sparrow, Jake Sully (in his avatar body of course) and Joker (specifically from the 2019 film) 🤭

No pressure tags! @aust-een @the-monkeies-girl @midnight-serendipity @mrsalwayswrite @semperamans @xxanaduwrites

[nerdy-novelist017]

Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful, keep the game going and make someone smile. 🤍

Awww stahp it! 🥹 you’re so sweet! 💕

[nerdy-novelist017]

Hii! I absolutely adore your benny and bunny series and I got this idea while reading one of your oneshots about them :))

Could you possibly write a oneshot about bunny sitting on bennys lap, and benny just tease bunny starts bouncing his thigh and making her squirm and such - maybe have it possibly lead to something a little more steamy? Also could it possibly be in a more public setting, like maybe at a bonfire with the club or at a meeting? I love you so much thank you for being such an amazing writer <33

Tease (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

Oh this??? Ummm I love it! Also, I definitely wrote thiis while I was ovulating so it's purely self-indulgent lol 😅 I'm a little nervous to post this so please tell me if you've enjoyed it! 🫶

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 3.6k+

This is pretty NSFW so please don't read if you are underage!

The bonfire crackled softly, orange flames dancing in the cold night air as the club members lounged around, drinks in hand, the atmosphere relaxed and full of quiet conversation. The delicious smell of burning wood and s'mores filled the evening air enveloped you as you sat on the edge of one of the large logs that circled the fire, the warmth of the flames chasing away the chill of the night. Benny sat beside you, a cigarette dangled from between his lips, his arm casually draped around your shoulder, his presence as solid and sure as always. 

The firelight cast long shadows, flickering over the faces of the members gathered, but your attention wasn’t on the conversations or the fire. It was on Benny, and the way his thumb absentmindedly brushed against the bare skin of your shoulder, leaving little sparks of warmth in their wake. You felt hyper-aware of his every touch, every soft movement, and it made your breath catch in your throat every time. 

It had been a quiet and uneventful night – at least for everyone else. But sitting next to Benny, feeling the heat of his body so close to yours, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar tension simmering just beneath the surface. 

Then, as if sensing your thoughts, Benny leaned in closer, his voice low and rough against your ear. “C’mere, Bunny. Come sit with me.”

Before you could respond, he gently tugged you off the log and pulled you into his lap, his strong hands guiding you with ease. Your heart fluttered at the sudden closeness, your body instinctively settling against him, your back pressed against his chest. His warmth seeped into you, his hands resting on your hips, holding you just close enough to keep you still but teasingly loose, like he was testing how far he could take this. 

“You good?” he murmured, his breath mixed with the smoke from his cigarette warm against your ear, his voice holding a hint of something that sent a jolt of warmth in your belly. 

Trying to ignore the quickening beat of your heart, you nodded. “Y–yeah, fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Not really. Sitting on Benny’s lap, surrounded by the familiar faces, the firelight casting shadows across his features, you felt like your entire body was suddenly buzzing with awareness. His hands shifted slightly, resting more firmly on your hips, and the feeling of his palms against you was almost too much.

Benny, however, seemed completely unbothered – almost playful, in fact. He shifted the cigarette between his lips as he said, “You sure? You seem a little . . . tense.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling in your lap as you tried to focus on anything other than the warmth of Benny’s hands and the closeness of his body. Your voice wavered slightly as you repeated, “I’m fine.”

“Mh-hm,” he hummed, and without warning, his grip on your hips tightened, just enough to pull you down a little harder on his lap. His thigh shifted beneath you, and before you could stop yourself, you let out a soft gasp, your body reacting to the sudden movement. 

Benny chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “That’s what I thought.”

Your face flushed with heat, but it wasn’t just from the fire. The way his thigh pressed just beneath you, the subtle movement, was enough to make you squirm and you bit your lip, trying to stay composed, especially with the others just sitting a few feet aware, completely unaware of what was happening.

Benny, of course, wasn’t done. He shifted his thigh again, just a little, just enough to make you feel the pressure in all the right places, and you couldn’t help the small, involuntary movement of your hips. The sensation was subtle, but it shot straight through you, sending your heart racing. The tension built as you felt every slight shift, every playful nudge of Benny’s thigh beneath you.

“Benny . . .” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

“What’s wrong Little Bunny?” he asked, his voice teasing as he tossed his cigarette to the grass below, successfully finding something more entertaining. “You seem a little . . . squirmy.”

You bit your lip harder, trying to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape. Benny’s thigh bounced just slightly beneath you, a slow, deliberate movement that made it impossible for you to remain still.  The teasing pressure was driving you crazy, and every time you shifted, it only made things worse. 

“If you keep moving like that, I might start thinkin’ you’re enjoying yourself,” he muttered, his voice full of that playful edge you had come to know all too well, his grip on her hips shifting. Your breath hitched, and your face grew impossibly hot as you pressed your thighs together, trying to steady yourself. But Benny shifted his thigh just so that you couldn’t find relief that way. 

It was torture – and yet, you didn’t want it to stop. But you were in public so he needed to stop.

“Benny, please,” you whispered, your voice holding a mix of warning, desperation and something else you didn’t quite want to admit. 

“Please what?” he asked, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want, Bunny.”

Just as you were about to whisper something – anything – another voice spoke up, cutting through the haze of your thoughts.

“Bunny, you hear me?”

You snapped your head up, your eyes widening in panic as you realized someone had been talking to you. You blinked, trying to focus on the person in front of you, but it was all you could do not to feel the heat of Benny’s body pressing up against you in a way that made it impossible to think straight. 

“Huh?” you stammered, your voice coming out more breathless than you intended. 

Kathy, sitting a few feet away across the fire, raised an eyebrow at you. “I asked if you’re coming to the run tomorrow.”

Your face flushed even deeper with embarrassment, warmth spreading to your ears as you realized you had been caught up in what Benny was doing. You shifted slightly on his lap, trying to compose yourself. But Benny, ever the tease, took the opportunity to press his thigh even harder against you, sending a bolt of heat straight to your core. Your breath hitched, and you bit down on your lip to keep from making a sound.

“I . . . I’m sorry, what?” you managed to say with a shaky breath. You tried to focus on Kathy, but it was almost impossible with the way Benny was subtly bouncing his leg beneath you, his hands holding your hips tightly in place as if daring you to try to ignore him. 

Kathy squinted, clearly noticing something was off. “You okay, Bunny? You look kinda . . . flustered.”

Flustered didn’t begin to cover it.

You tried to brush off the abashment gripped you nearly as tight as Benny did . “Y–yeah, I’m fine. Just a little . . . tired, I guess.”

Kathy’s brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t press further. “Right. Well, I was askin’ if you’re comin’ to the run tomorrow?”

Before you could respond, Benny, still sitting silently behind you, gave a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, his thigh pressing into you in a way that made you gasp softly. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, mortified that the sound had slipped out. 

Kathy raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing the sudden shift. “You sure you’re okay?”

You could barely breathe, your body squirming involuntarily as Benny continued his slow, sinful movements below. He hadn’t said a word, but you could feel the grin against your neck – the wicked, satisfied grin of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. 

You cleared your throat as you stammered, “Y–yeah I’m okay,” you cleared your throat as you stammered, “I’ll, uh . . . I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Kathy gave you a long look, clearly skeptical, but before she could say anything else, one of the other members called her attention and you were left alone, still perched on Benny’s lap, still caught up in his merciless teasing. 

As soon as Kathy’s attention shifted away, Benny leaned in close, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispered, “Careful, Bunny. You’re making it hard to behave.”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you hissed softly, a spike of irritation hitting you as you tried to pull away to find relief, but his hands tightened on your hips, holding you in place. 

“Keep squirmin’ like that, and you’re gonna give us away, kid,” he said playfully, but you could hear the heat in his voice.”You’re so tense. You need to relax.”

Relax? That was impossible. Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you were sure someone would hear it. Every nerve in your body was on high alert, your skin tingling under Benny’s teasing hands. His grip was tight, but his thumb lazily stroked your hip as if he wasn’t torturing you, as if he didn’t have you barely able to breathe from the tension. Every subtle shift of his thigh, every gentle grind of his hip sent jolts of desire through your entire being. 

“Benny,” your voice shook as you pressed your palm down hard against his other thigh, trying to get his attention. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed. “You need to stop.”

“Stop?” he repeated innocently, but his hands slid down from your hips to your thighs, his fingers brushing just beneath the hem of your skirt. The touch sent a surge through you and you jumped. “Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop.”

And you didn’t. Not in the sense of the word. You wanted him – needed him, more than your lungs need air to breathe. But you couldn’t, not here, not in front of everyone. Your mind swirled with incoherent thoughts of trying to tell him to stop and trying to tell him to keep going. 

“Just tell me, Bunny,” he breathed, his hands dragging their way back up to your hips. “Just tell me what you want, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

“Benny,” you hissed, your voice barely audible.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your struggle. “That’s not an answer.”

Just as you were teetering on the edge, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. Skipco, ever the silent observer, was glancing over at the two of you, a curious look on his face. Your heart raced, panic flooding you as you realized how close you were to being caught. If Skipco saw the way you were squirming in Benny’s lap, if he put the pieces together . . . 

Your breath hitched and you froze, trying to stay perfectly slow. But Benny, ever aware of you, must have noticed the shift in your body language. Just as you were about to lose it completely, just as the heat between them reached a dangerous peak, Benny’s hands on your hips loosened. 

Without warning, he stopped. 

The sudden lack of movement left you breathless, heart still racing and body still buzzing with pent up tension. You blinked, trying to process what just happened, but before you could even react, Benny leaned back, his expression calm and composed as ever. He acted like nothing had happened at all. 

Your breath was shallow, your body still on edge, cheeks flushed from the heat and embarrassment. You shifted slightly in his lap, attempting to catch your breath, but the sudden absence of his teasing left you feeling both relieved and strangely frustrated. You had been close – too close – and now the tension he had so expertly built up inside you had nowhere to go. 

Benny, however, didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. He shifted beneath you, adjusting you slightly on his lap, and then – just like that – he casually jumped back into the conversation, as if nothing had happened. He joined in on the jokes being tossed around the fire, his voice calm and smooth as ever, not even a hint of the wicked teasing he’d been torturing you with just moments ago. 

You sat there, still perched on his lap, body still tingling from his touch, and you felt a wave of frustration wash over you. He had stopped. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, just when you had been so close to losing your control, he had stopped. And now he was acting like it was nothing. 

You wanted to be relieved – relieved that they hadn’t been caught, that Benny had goven in before anyone noticed. But at the same time, you couldn’t shake the frustration that burned inside you, the way he had left you wanted more, so close yet so far from the release that you so desperately craved. 

His hand rested casually on your thigh now, no longer teasing or pushing, just a gentle, familiar touch. He smiled at something one of the others said, completely composed while you sat there still buzzing with need.

You glanced up at him, your eyes narrowing slightly in vexation. He caught your look, and just for a moment, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small, knowing grin. That wicked, teasing grin that told you he knew exactly what he had done. Your jaw clenched as you realized he had left you like this on purpose – teasing you, pushing you, and then pulling back just when you thought you were going to break.

“You okay, Bunny?” he asked casually, his voice low but full of that damned teasing edge.

You practically glared at him, nodding as you didn’t trust your voice. You slid off his lap, your movements sharp and purposeful as you sat on the log beside him, making a point to leave a prominent space between the two of you. The cool night air was a welcome replacement to the warmth of his body. The sudden distance was a silent protest. You weren’t going to let him get away with mercilessly teasing you and then pretending nothing had happened. 

His eyes flickered to you the moment you moved, and you could feel his gaze on you, but he didn’t say anything right away. You crossed your arms, leaning slightly away from him, pointedly avoiding his gaze as you focused on the fire instead. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Benny smirking, his eyes dark with amusement as he watched, but he didn’t move to break the distance you created. The rest of the night felt like it dragged on forever. Every little movement, every casual comment from Benny only heightened your annoyance. He didn’t push it further, didn’t tease you overtly in front of the others, but every now and then, his hand would brush against yours or he would lean in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his body, and it would send your pulse fluttering all over again. 

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your body still humming with need, and the subtle movement didn’t go unnoticed. Benny glanced your way, his eyes flickering over you for a brief moment before he returned to his conversation. But that one look told you everything. He knew you were flustered. He knew you were still thinking about what happened. And the fact that he wasn’t saying a word, wasn’t doing anything more to help you made it so much worse. 

After what felt like an eternity, the conversation began to die down, and some of the other members started to head toward their bikes, getting ready to leave. You stood up quickly, eager for the excuse to move, to shake off the tension still clinging to you. You glanced down at Benny who was still lounging in his chair, watching you with that same infuriating smirk.

“Ready to go?” you asked with a quick, barely controlled voice. 

Benny raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he slowly moved to stand, stretching as if he hadn’t just spent the last hour driving you absolutely mad. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

You bit your lip, swallowing the building urge to snap at him. You turned on your heel, walking toward the truck (Benny’s bike had been in Cal’s workshop after it started giving him problems.) Your pace was quick as you tried to put some distance between him, but you could feel him behind you, following at his own leisurely pace, taking his sweet time.

When you reached the passenger door to the pickup truck, you crossed your arms over your chest and turned to face him as he caught up. And with enough distance put between the others still mingling around the fire, your anger finally bubbled to the surface. 

“Do you always have to do that?” you blurted out, your voice sharper than you intended.

He tilted his head, his smirk never fading. “Do what?” 

“You know exactly what I mean, Benny Cross,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing. “You did it on purpose. You pushed me just far enough, then stopped.”

His grin grew at your use of his full name, and he took a step closer to you, his voice dropping to a playful tone. “I thought you liked it.”

The sensuality from the sound of his voice made you falter slightly, but you weren’t about to let him off that easily. “That’s not the point.”

“Are you mad at me, Bunny?” he asked lightly as if he found your anger amusing. 

“Yes, I am,” you confirmed, shifting your stance to a more defiant one to prove your point. 

“Oh,” he said, his face taking on a mock seriousness as he stepped even closer, his hands drifting to lean against the truck door, trapping you between them but not touching you. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Your heart raced again, an involuntary smile tugging at your lips. You hated him, hated how easily he could unravel you with just a few words, a few touches. But the truth was, you loved it too. As much as it frustrated you, as much as it left you feeling exposed, you craved it. 

“You think you can just grin and fix everything?” you said, your voice shaky as you tried to sound firm, but the heat of his gaze was making it hard to stay mad. 

Benny leaned in, close enough now for you to feel the heat radiating from his body. “Maybe not everything . . . but it seems to be working so far.”

You narrowed your eyes, attempting to hold onto your anger, but the proximity of him and the sarcastic quip of his was doing things to your resolve. He wasn’t touching you, not yet, but you could practically feel the anticipation rolling off him. 

“You’re so unfair, Benny,” you muttered.

“I think you like it when I'm unfair,” he whispered, “You like it when I get you all riled up.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. He was too close now, his eyes locked onto yours as if daring you to keep fighting him. Your heart hammered in your chest as his face hovered just inches above yours. He didn’t need to touch you to have you completely undone. 

“I hate it,” you breathed, but the words were unconvincing, even to you. 

“No, you don’t.” Benny’s smirk widened, his breath warm against your lips.

You were trapped, and your anger had melted away, replaced by something hotter, something more urgent. And then, just as you opened your mouth to snap again, Benny’s lips barely brushed against yours, a teasing, fleeting touch that sent a jolt of heat through you. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, but he pulled back before you could respond, leaving you breathless and frustrated all over again.

“Still mad?” he asked softly, his eyes roaming over your face as if he was taking in every detail like he was seeing it for the first time again.

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Benny almost laughed. “Good.”

Before you could protest, he kissed you properly this time, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that robbed you of your breath once again. You gasped against his mouth, your hands instinctively reaching up to grab his shirt, pulling him closer as your body melted into his. His hands finally left the door of the truck, finding your waist and squeezing gently as the kiss grew more desperate. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was barely holding back, and it sent a thrill through you. 

When he finally pulled back, you grinned up at him. You turned to the truck, opening the door with just enough force to make your point. Benny followed, slower and deliberate as he moved around to the driver’s door. Anticipation settled in your chest as you slid into the passenger seat. You knew you weren’t leaving the night behind just yet. The real teasing had only just begun.

Benny climbed into the driver’s seat, and for a moment, the silence between you was charged. His fingers tapped the steering wheel, a slow and steady rhythm as if he were biding his time. Then, without looking at you, he spoke. “We’re not done just yet, kid.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep what little cool you had left, but the way he said it – calm, teasing and oozing with confidence that drove you crazy – left you speechless. You shifted in your seat.

Benny turned his head just slightly, catching your eye with a knowing smirk. “We’ll finish this when we get home.”

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable. You tried to play it off, giving a small shrug as you pretended to still be mad at him. “You better be ready for me.”

Benny laughed softly. “I’ve been ready for you all night.”  

-Tag List-

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[nerdy-novelist017]

At the end of the day I’m really just a professional yearner

[nerdy-novelist017]

Hi there Paige! 👋👋👋👋

I really really really really really love love love love your Benny and bunny series!!!!!!!!!😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 I just finished reading it and it absolutely fed my new/current obsession with benny/austin 🤭💞🫶🏻😭 is there gonna be more or was that the ending??? I'm curious to know!!

Once again, thank u for writing it and feeding my obsession 💞💞💞💞💞 also for inspiring me to continue writing, cuz I might start writing for benny now!

Wow thank you so much for the love and support!!! I’m so glad you enjoyed it to the point of messaging me! That means so much to me 🥹 I do have more planned and in fact, I have been writing the next chapter on my plane ride home but I’m starting to get sick (damn fall season colds 😩) and I’ve been slacking off because of that.

But to answer your question, yes! I think I’m gonna finish the main series out with 10 chapters (I have to end on an even number of it will bother me) but I still plan on doing one shots and headcannons for Benny x Bunny!

That seriously makes me so happy to hear that my work has inspired you!! 🥰 please tag me if you upload something!

[kookntae4ever]

This is me. Kinda jealous of all the writers who can write quickly because I can't.

[windwardstar]

[Image description: a kid in a cheap gold star costume. Text edited onto the star says: world's slowest writer. End description]