#ignore the blue at the edge of his face in some of the gifs lol

[cherienymphe]

Smells Like Teen Spirit (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON/DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, attempted murder + suicide, mentions of blood, loss of virginity, underage drinking, jealousy, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ cont.

summary: Being one half of the royal couple of Figure 8 isn't what it's cracked up to be.

~

The first time Rafe hit you, it was on your birthday.

Like every year, your parents threw you a big party that hosted no less than a hundred people. A good number of those people were friends from school and familiar faces you’d grown up with. The other bunch were family friends that had more in common with your parents than you. You took their pretty cards filled with money and thanked them with a smile, relieved when they scampered off to congregate with the other forty somethings.

It was the same party every year. Half the people of Figure 8 in attendance, an abundance of gifts you could barely keep up with, and a light scold or two from your mother to smile and greet the next person who came in. Your hair was flawless and your dress was the perfect length.

The only difference this year was the presence of a boyfriend at your side.

“Rafe, if my dad sees us, I will never hear the end of it.”

Your tone was light and teasing, and you said it with a smile, but there was a hint of seriousness there. It really didn’t matter how older you grew to be, you were sure you’d always be your daddy’s little girl. The older man already hadn’t been the most excited when you told him you were dating Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son, and you were positive that the Cameron family’s reputation was Rafe’s only saving grace.

You’d just turned eighteen then after all and was already flaunting your new adult status.

The blue-eyed boy in front of you merely chuckled, tightening his arms around your waist and leaning in to kiss you again. The house and the yard were filled with almost too many people, so you hadn’t hesitated when Rafe discreetly guided you upstairs.

“He’s too busy talking about his new boat, isn’t he?” he wondered. “He’ll talk all night if they let him.”

You lightly tapped his chest, but you didn’t voice any disagreement.

Your back was leaning against your bedroom door, the muffled sounds of some classical music reaching your ears through the wall. Rafe’s hands were tight on your waist, and you both felt and heard him chuckle again, his lips still pressed against yours. Only this time, he kept laughing—softly and to himself—and you gave him a slight frown when he pulled away.

“I was just thinking…” Rafe pulled you close again. “How hilarious it would be if he was going on and on about that damn boat…none the wiser to his daughter getting fucked on her birthday right upstairs.”

This time you hit him a little harder, and Rafe only laughed again.

“You’re not funny,” you scolded, deflating a little as you pulled away from him. “Way to ruin the mood.”

You said it quietly as you sat down on the edge of your bed, but Rafe heard it clearly, and when you looked up at him, you recognized the look on his face instantly.

“Funny,” he started, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the door. “Mentioning sex usually has the opposite effect on most people.”

You rolled your eyes with a turn of your head, looking towards your window. The atmosphere was different, now, and you didn’t know if it was your fault or Rafe’s. He joked like that sometimes, and you knew it, so you could recognize that maybe you were being too sensitive.

The topic at hand, however, was a sensitive one for you.

“I really don’t want to have this fight, right now,” you mumbled.

You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t return it, determined to just stare down at the people in your yard. The air was thick, the tension even thicker, and you reached up to rub your arms, trying to rid them of the goosebumps that had appeared. Rafe hated being ignored, and you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to continue the conversation because you knew what was brewing.

Rafe was the perfect boyfriend. He was pretty—the kind of pretty that even some girls would be jealous of. He came from the kind of family that taught him about manners and respect. He never hesitated to do what he could to make your life easier despite growing up wanting for nothing. You didn’t think it was possible for an already spoiled girl to be spoiled some more until you started dating Rafe and he proved you wrong. He treated you like a princess, so yes. Rafe was the perfect boyfriend.

Mostly.

“I’ve been really understanding, you know…”

Rafe’s voice was low, and your gaze dropped to your lap.

“…but we’ve been dating for what? Eight months?”

You swallowed, eyes burning.

“Do you know how hard Topper and Kelce would laugh at me if they knew my girlfriend of almost a year refuses to have sex with me?”

You scoffed, finally looking at him, brows pulled together.

“You make it sound like I’m punishing you,” you breathed. “Rafe, this has nothing to do with you, I… I’m just not ready.”

“…and still no ETA on when you will be, huh?”

You blinked at him, lips parting at his callous tone and words. You looked away, blinking back tears because you would hate it if you cried on your birthday of all days.

“You’re being an asshole.”

You whispered it, and you heard Rafe huff.

“I’m not trying to be,” he told you, and you heard him move closer. “…but come on. I get it…”

The bed dipped as he sat down next to you, and you felt his hand on your face, fingers grazing your cheek.

“You’re nervous, and it seems scary, but you’re treating me like I’m some stranger on the street, and not…your boyfriend. You know I’ll take care of you. I always take care of you, and that’s why I don’t understand it,” he bit out. “I treat you like gold, and here I am, eight months in and wondering if you even feel the same way.”

You whipped your head around to stare at him in disbelief, looking between his eyes. You didn’t know how he could be serious, but as you gazed at him, you realized that Rafe was very serious. You took a moment to scoot away from him just a tad.

“I show you everyday how much you mean to me, Rafe…but because I won’t have sex with you that means I don’t love you? So just forget all the other stuff, I guess,” you sneered.

Rafe reached for you when you started to turn away, shaking your head and lightly pushing at his hands. Today was your birthday, and you were fighting with your boyfriend…because sex was something you just weren’t ready for. You snatched your arm out of his hold, standing on unsteady legs.

“When you first brought this up, I told you then that I wasn’t ready, and you made it clear you were okay with waiting. Was that a lie?” you asked him, meeting his gaze.

Rafe ran his hand down his face, huffing to himself.

“No, but I just didn’t think I’d still be waiting almost half a year later.”

He was standing, now too.

“So, why are you? No one’s forcing you to stay here, Rafe,” you sadly told him with a shrug. “You don’t have to be with me if sex is that damn important to you. There are plenty of other girls out there who will happily give you what I don’t want to.”

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“…and I know because I see the looks they give you…and the looks they give me.”

You were used to envy. You’d been on the receiving end of it all your life. Growing up on this side of the island guaranteed that from birth, but you also knew it was because your standing was only rivaled by Sarah Cameron. If Rafe’s sister were anyone else, you might have found yourself involved in some one-sided rivalry, but Sarah was a lot like you.

Just a girl born into fortunate circumstances.

However, what you weren’t used to was envy because of the man you loved. When it came to your house and your lifestyle and everything else, it never bothered you because no one could take those things from you. Rafe, on the other hand… You knew what he was like and what he was used to. It was why you’d been very honest about your sexual history and lack thereof from almost the beginning. If Rafe was going to leave you for someone else all because you wouldn’t have sex with him, you would have rather he do it early.

Not now…not eight months in because now you loved him, and the thought made you want to cry, and it would take just as many months to get over him.

“If I wanted any of those other spoiled bitches then I wouldn’t be here,” Rafe told you. “Besides, you think I’m just going to walk away with nothing after investing so much time and money and energy into you?”

You reared back at that, eyes widening just a tad, and Rafe seemed to realize how that came out. He sighed, reaching for you just as you stepped away from him. You heard him curse when you left the room, ignoring the sound of him calling your name as you hurried to mix yourself in with all of your guests downstairs.

Rafe talked about you like some business investment he was waiting to get a return on. It hurt, a lot, and while you wanted to believe he hadn’t meant it like that in his head, you couldn’t help but to wonder if that was really how he saw you. Your mother smiled at you when she saw your face, none the wiser to your temporary absence. Your own smile was forced as she introduced you to their new golfing buddies.

You didn’t know when Rafe came back downstairs, only quickly glancing away when your eyes connected with his after some time. If your parents noticed your distance from him, they didn’t comment on it, and after a while, you barely noticed it yourself. You immersed yourself in your friends, halfway listening to boyfriend troubles and semester woes.

This was the only thing you and Rafe ever fought about. Plenty of your friends had boyfriends before who tried to pressure them into doing things they didn’t want to do. You were always the friend to tell them to dump them without hesitation, so why hadn’t you done the same? Was it because Rafe was so perfect in all other aspects of your relationship? The back and forth hadn’t ever been so serious before…not until tonight.

As you sipped on the drink you weren’t supposed to be having, you remembered the hurt you felt when Rafe implied you didn’t love him. What a crazy thing to say. You treated him just as well as he treated you, never mind the fact that you told him every day how much you loved him…but because you wouldn’t fuck him that meant otherwise?

It was enough to make you angry.

“Finally stopped hiding from me…?”

You tensed up for half a second, relaxing with a sigh as you heard him come closer. You were out by the water, now, sitting on the boat dock with one leg swinging. It had been nothing but just you and your thoughts for a good thirty minutes, and you guessed it took that amount of time for Rafe to realize you were no longer in the house.

“I don’t know yet,” you honestly told him.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t,” Rafe quietly said, getting straight to the point.

“…but I don’t know. You don’t even think I love you just because I won’t have sex with you. For all I know, that’s exactly how you see me,” you mumbled.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Says the guy ruining my birthday!”

You were looking up at him, now, tearfully, and you shook your head. Saying it aloud made you realize just how shitty it was, and you sniffed, pulling yourself to your feet.

“Just go home, Rafe…”

He stopped you from walking by him, and you ignored anything he was trying to say. The more he leaned in, that was when you smelled it, and your frown deepened at the stench of alcohol on his breath. You didn’t know why the smell made you so angry. It was a party, after all, but maybe it was the fact that if anyone of the two of you deserved to drown their sorrows in booze, it was you. Not Rafe. Pushing at his chest, you scoffed.

“One argument…and you’re already getting drunk?”

You jerked your face away from his hand, glowering at him.

“Don’t you want to at least wait for Ward to give you the daily disappointment speech?”

The slap wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been, but it was hard enough to make your face burn.

You were staring at the water from when your head had whipped to the side, and when a nightly breeze blew by, kissing your skin, only then did the dull burning sensation fade away into a painful one. Your lips were parted in shock, and you were slow to reach up and touch your cheek. The silence was loud, and when you finally looked at Rafe, he looked as shocked as you felt.

All of your breath had left you, and your brain was short-circuiting, desperately trying to reconcile your boyfriend with the same guy who’d just slapped you. It didn’t seem real, and yet the dull pain you felt said otherwise. A few tears escaped against your will, and it was only then did Rafe move. His face fell, but you were already backing away.

“Y/N-.”

“Don’t touch me,” you tearfully spat. “What is wrong with you?”

He didn’t listen, grabbing your arms anyway, and you were still in too much shock to really fight back. Rafe cooed at you, trying to take your face into his hands no matter how much you protested. You wanted him far away from you, and your brain was unsure of how to achieve that, still grappling with the memory of his palm connecting with your cheek.

“Hey, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to do that,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Baby, stop.”

You shoved at his chest, hitting it, but he wasn’t deterred. He only rested his free hand on the back of your head, holding you against him, and the feel had more tears spilling over. You kept trying to get away, but Rafe refused to let you, repeatedly apologizing and shushing you. You could feel the cool metal of his ring against your scalp, his lips there too as he kept telling you he was sorry.

Your chest was so tight, and it ached just as much as your face. Your mind was still fighting to make sense of what had happened tonight, and despite Rafe’s apologies for his entire behavior, you told yourself that this was the last straw. Rafe had ruined your birthday in more ways than one, and you were done. You had to be.

…because you deserved better.

The first time you had sex with Rafe—with anyone ever—you’d been terrified.

…and drunk.

An entire month after your birthday, and you didn’t know if you were more shocked or angry that you stayed with Rafe. You had been so determined to leave him that night. He had ruined your birthday beyond repair, and you knew that anytime you looked back on the night you turned nineteen, you’d only remember Rafe slapping you on the dock.

…but you’d also remember his profuse apologies, and the tears in his eyes as he begged you to forgive him.

He was drunk. That was what he kept saying, that he was drunk and acted before thinking. It was barely a reason and certainly wasn’t an excuse, so why did you stay? It was stupid to stay…and yet you did. You let Rafe kiss your face and lead you back to the party that had long died and smile in the face of the parents whose daughter he’d just hit.

You’d answered the phone as he called you, taking almost half an hour to just tell you again how sorry he was and how he didn’t know what came over him and how it would never happen again. You’d never known Rafe to be so apologetic in all the time you’d been dating him. It would’ve been sweet if it weren’t for the circumstances, and the whole time, you’d only been able to listen in silence with your fingers grazing your face.

You hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for days, going over it in your head again and again. Torn between listening to your gut and telling yourself that it had just been a one-off thing, a bad drunken night. After all, what you’d said to him hadn’t been the nicest, knowing how he felt in regard to Ward and his relationship with him. It didn’t make it right…but you had provoked Rafe. You’d said it to hurt him…to make him angry… Right?

…but that wasn’t the case a month later.

Things between you and Rafe hadn’t been the same since. He still doted on you, and your parents still adored him, and you were reluctant to admit you still loved him, but you could never get that night out of your mind. You could never forget how swift it had been, how no thought to you had been spared. Rafe had only been focused on retaliating, hurting you, and it was something you often struggled with. You believed it wouldn’t happen again…but what if it did?

Without even realizing it, you became less argumentative with the blond. You gave him less pushback, you smiled more and became more agreeable to his suggestions. You spent more time with him, making him happy. You believed him when he said it wouldn’t happen again, but in the back of your mind, something in you was doing everything you could think of to make sure it didn’t.

…and that was why you still didn’t quite understand how the fight had started.

Something about Topper…or Kelce.

You were so drunk, it was hard to remember.

“I saw you!”

You had blinked at Rafe from your place on the couch, staring up at him in wonder and confusion. Another Friday meant another party, and promising your mother you’d be back by a certain time, you’d allowed Rafe to help you into his truck. Nothing about the night had been out of the ordinary, and it was why you found yourself wracking your brain.

“Rafe, I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you softly told him, trying to understand why he was so mad.

The only son of Ward Cameron knocked the glass of water right out of your hand, and you flinched at the action, blinking at the sight of shattered glass on the floor. You’d gotten it to try and help you sober up before you went home, and you stared at the spilled water with parted lips. You were too drunk to fully grasp the severity of the situation you were now in.

Suddenly Rafe was there, too close, leaning down over you with his hands resting on the back of the couch. You leaned back and away from him, eyes wide as he looked at you like you were something he’d find on the bottom of his shoe. Like he was so disgusted with the sight of you, and again, you wracked your brain to understand what you’d done. To understand how to fix this.

Rafe’s blue gaze had been cold, icy, and you hadn’t missed the tick of his jaw. The alcohol in your system hindered your thinking, and that had seemed to make Rafe angrier, like he was furious you couldn’t put it together. Read his mind. Overwhelmed, you hadn’t been able to stop a few tears of frustration from escaping, and that just seemed to really send him over the edge.

“You were in his lap,” he had bit out, and only then did you finally understand.

Your odd relationship with your boyfriend these days had driven you to drink more than you ever had. You’d been sloppy…clumsy, and Topper was nice enough to help you back to your feet after you’d quite literally fallen right onto his lap. You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but one look into Rafe’s eyes had you swallowing it down.

He was very serious…and very angry.

You reached for him, but Rafe only slapped your hands away, straightening and looking down his nose at you. It was a look that made you feel so…cold, and with one blink, you remembered that you were alone. Sarah was God knows where, and the remaining Camerons had gone out to eat. The house was usually empty during this time, but it wasn’t this Friday night.

It consisted of you…and your angry boyfriend.

“I should…I should go. Call my mom,” you mumbled, pushing yourself to your feet.

Your attempts to get by Rafe went unsuccessful, and with each block to your path, something deep within your gut just…dropped. Your gaze met a familiar blue one, and nothing about it was warm, welcoming. Rafe seemed to be so mad at you about something so silly, but instead of just talking about it later when you were both much clearer headed…he didn’t want to let you leave.

“Is that what you’re gonna do?” he’d mocked, a mean look on his face. “Call mommy and daddy to come get you?”

Sarah.

You reminded of him of Sarah.

That was what he’d said, what he’d thrown at you. His tense relationship with the other girl was no secret to anyone, least of all you, and you winced at every insult he threw at you. Spoiled brat. Perfect princess. Uptight prude. It shocked you for a lot of reasons, but mostly because Rafe wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t sober, but you’d hardly seen him drink all night and not nearly as much as you, and he was insulting you with confidence, throwing all of these things at you that you never knew he felt.

“I’m just going to go home, okay? You’re being an asshole, and I don’t know why, so I just…”

At some point, your back was grazing the wall, and Rafe was hovering before you, a look in his eye like leaving was the very last thing he wanted you to do. Every move of yours was mirrored, every turn met with one of his own, and for the first time ever…you were afraid of your boyfriend.

When Rafe hit you that night, you hadn’t been scared. Not really. You’d been angry…shocked…disbelieving. Not scared though. You’d just wanted to be away from him, you had even wanted to hit him back, but not once did you remember feeling scared for your life. Not like this night, and you couldn’t keep it together.

“Rafe, please, I just…I just wanna go home,” you choked out, touching your temple. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

You were so confused as to how you got here. The night had taken such an unexpected turn, and more than anything, you wanted to sleep it off and write the whole thing off as a bad dream. You wanted to get some more water and take a shower and skip to the part where you had a pounding headache in the morning. You didn’t understand how a night of partying had turned into an argument with your boyfriend.

Although, you supposed it wasn’t much of an argument. Mostly Rafe yelling at you and you trying to understand why. Rafe was determined to make this into something it wasn’t, and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to let you leave without dead-ing this whole thing, you frowned at him.

“I fell. You know I fell, you know…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe rolled his eyes, and something in you was telling you that Rafe was going to believe what he wanted to believe. He was determined to make something true, and it startled you to realize that you’d lost this argument before it even began. Slipping from in between Rafe and the wall was a mistake.

A mistake that had consequences.

Your purse was halfway across the room before you could even grab it good, Rafe suddenly in your face again. He was yelling about a whole bunch of nothing, and when you turned from him again, Rafe made sure it was the last time, gripping your upper arm so hard that you actually cried out. His other hand followed suit, and he shook you, hard enough to make your head whip back and forth.

The only time he listened to you was when you asked him to let you go.

…and he did just that…shoving you in the process.

The kitchen counter slowed your fall only a bit, but it added to the pain more than anything else. Trying to get up proved fruitless, because Rafe was there, kneeling before you with one hand on the counter. The other was on your face, forcing you to look at him. You were too drunk to make full sense of everything he was saying, to grasp the danger you were in. When you finally did, it was too late.

…because Rafe was already ripping the dress he bought you a week ago.

You thought it was a joke at first—some awful and insensitive scare tactic—until you were reaching up to pull at the hand around your throat. Your other hand slapped at the cabinets below in panic, and with a knee between your legs, it was impossible to close them. You knew that you were alone, but that fact didn’t stop you from crying out.

“You really expect me to just watch you throw yourself at my friends? Huh?”

The kitchen floor was cool against your back.

“…and laugh about it?”

He was fumbling between you both, and the room was spinning too much for you to understand why. You felt nauseous, and Rafe was hurting you, and you were cold. Not to mention that your head had started to hurt, but you also realized that everything was hurting.

“But you won’t even touch me.”

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut…only lower.

The pain of Rafe’s intrusion had you wailing, and the difference in your reactions couldn’t have been starker. It was hard to decipher, but you were sure that Rafe had moaned, a low drawn-out sigh as he sheathed himself inside of you. You could feel Rafe’s chest heaving against yours, could feel his heartbeat, could even hear his shaky breath.

You, on the other hand…

You couldn’t move. You felt frozen, restricted by something unseen, and when you tried to fight against it, you gasped. One shift had you wincing, and tears spilled over almost immediately. Your hands were pressing against his chest, now, desperately trying to push Rafe away, pushing off of you… out of you. It was no good, Rafe in a whole other world you weren’t privy too as he pulled back.

The feel had you wincing again, and you thought…

Well, you thought wrong.

Your relief was short-lived, and Rafe ignored everything you said as he started to thrust inside of you. His hips barely left yours, only enough to create friction, and you pushed your forearm against his neck, fighting to get him to stop. The pain wasn’t something you could wrap your head around, and you didn’t know if you were grateful or not that you were so drunk.

Every snap of Rafe’s hips made you cry harder, harsh sobs escaping and echoing in the otherwise silent kitchen. The sound of your bawling was only rivaled by the groans that escaped Rafe, your boyfriend pointedly ignoring your plight. One of his hands pushed against your face, forcing your head to the side…as if he didn’t want to see your face.

See the reality of what he was doing to you.

You thought at some point that the pain would go away, subside, but it felt like it only got worse with each thrust of his cock. Rafe was a man on a mission with only one objective in mind, and you were having the hardest time sorting your thoughts, realizing that in this moment you were a means to an end. An objective to be met through the use of your body.

…but you supposed it was more than just that.

Rafe was always entitled, a trait you found somewhat endearing much like towards an entitled child, but it hadn’t occurred to you that he’d feel entitled to you too. Before the night of your birthday, you knew the one thorn in your relationship, the one thing to actually put a crack in your relationship. Deep down somewhere, you expected Rafe to just leave you. After all, why wouldn’t you?

There was no universe in which you’d ever consider the possibility of the alternative.

The possibility that your boyfriend would just take what he wanted.

It didn’t last long—or maybe that was the alcohol in your system sparing you—but you couldn’t even be relieved. Even after Rafe pulled out, spent and satisfied and out of breath, the pain still remained. He was talking, and you didn’t know if he was talking to himself or you, but you paid it no mind. You could still feel him deep in your gut, and you rolled onto your side, curling into yourself.

You didn’t hear him the first time, but the second time Rafe told you to get up, he was forcing you to your feet. It hurt, and you could barely walk, and your confusion only grew. His hold was tight, and his tone sounded off, and you discovered why when headlights from the yard bled through the windows and into your line of sight.

He was rushing you to get upstairs, but you kept stumbling from both the pain and your blurry vision. Rafe didn’t let you go until you were just inside of his room, and as you collapsed to the floor, you could hear the door opening downstairs. You couldn’t stop crying even if you wanted to, and you hadn’t even realized Rafe had left—to give some half-baked excuse for the broken glass, no doubt—until he returned, suddenly kneeling at your side and begging you to stop crying.

You tried to push him away, but your movements were sluggish, weak, and you weren’t able to hold your own as he pulled you to your feet. Rafe stumbled into the bathroom with you, an arm around you and holding you up as he started the shower. You didn’t want him touching you, but you were physically unable to stop him. Every step hurt and made you stumble, every wave of your arm made you sway, and when the warm water ran over you both, there was nothing you could do as he washed away every remnant of his assault.

You were at Rafe’s side on his birthday, a small smile on your lips as he kept an arm around your waist. Rose thanked you for coming, not that she would expect anything different, and Wheezie asked if you would be staying over. The youngest Cameron had taken a liking to you—all of them did really—and she looked forward to having you around. You wanted to tell her no, but that wasn’t what you said. Instead, you said:

“Its’ Rafe’s birthday. Why wouldn’t I?”

The dark-haired girl beamed, adjusting her glasses, and her satisfaction was contagious. You knew that Rafe’s dynamic with his family was tricky at the best of times, and while you were sure they loved you just fine, something in you also wondered if they liked who Rafe was when he was around you. They were happy to host you for as long as they could.

They had no idea that it was only 24 hours earlier when Rafe tried to kill you.

Trying to leave Rafe resulted in the last thing you ever expected.

That night—and all the other nights that followed—haunted you. When you closed your eyes, you could only see Rafe at his lowest, holding you down and hurting you. You could only feel the pain of him forcing himself inside of you, and the pain that lingered when he was no longer there. The memory of bloody water swirling down the drain was a constant in your mind. As well as the memory of Rafe putting you in his bed, pulling his shirt down to your knees.

You should have left the night of your birthday, you should’ve gotten out then, and none of it would have ever happened, but you told yourself that late was better than never. You told yourself that you learned your lesson and you didn’t have to experience any more hurt to leave. Your eyes were open, and while you didn’t know if you’d ever go against Rafe legally for what he did, you did know that you were leaving him. You had to focus on each step at once. Trying to think so far ahead was enough to scare you.

Right now, you just needed to leave him.

His entire visage had been eerily calm as you broke up with him, voice shaking as you did. Even he hadn’t been able to deny how your relationship had deteriorated, become something unrecognizable and unhealthy. The morning after, you felt like you were existing outside of your body. You could see Rafe leaving apologetic kisses along your face as you stirred, but you couldn’t really feel it. You couldn’t feel his hands either, not until they found a home between your legs, at least.

Your protest was almost immediate, but Rafe had assured you it was fine…and you were scared.

So, you believed him.

Experiencing pain and pleasure at the same time was foreign to you. Rafe’s previous assault was not something to be ignored, but it felt odd to come around him and hiss from the pain of it at the same time. He was gentle, pressing his lips to yours and grazing his fingertips against your skin. His thrusts had been slow and careful, but the damage had been done, and every push of his hips brought out conflicting reactions.

That was how it always went.

Even after the pain and bruises were long gone, you couldn’t stop being afraid of Rafe. After all, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t respect any kind of refusal from you. What kind of relationship was that? How could you thrive in that? Rafe may have been your first everything, but you weren’t naïve. He was an abusive asshole…and you were just too scared to do something about it.

Until last night.

You thought it would be easy. You even remembered internally laughing at yourself for how dramatic you’d made it in your mind. You thought… You thought that Rafe would move on, let you go. After all, he’d finally gotten what he wanted, and you had even exhaled when he nodded, a soft ‘okay’ soon to follow.

“Let me drive you home,” he’d said.

“Okay,” you’d replied.

You didn’t know why you thought it would be that easy.

Things with Rafe hadn’t been easy in months, and your attempted breakup was no different.

You realized that when the needle on the speedometer started to rapidly climb, the sound of Rafe’s revving engine loud in the truck. You asked him what was going on, where he was going, even though deep down you knew. You knew Rafe better than anyone probably, so you knew the answers to your questions before you even asked them.

“Rafe, stop,” you’d begged, reaching for his arm, but the blond simply fixed you with a wry smile.

“Why?” he’d wondered with a shrug. “So, you can leave me? Why would I want that?”

The houses and trees were flying past you outside the window, and you never felt more powerless than in the moment you were trapped in Rafe’s truck, unable to do a thing as he raced down the road towards the end he’d already picked out for the both of you. Any attempt to grab the wheel only resulted in Rafe jerking it—jerking the vehicle in the process—and scaring the shit out of you.

Retracting everything you’d said earlier only resulted in a harsh slap to the steering wheel, a dry laugh from Rafe soon to follow.

“You think I believe that load of shit? Huh?”

“Rafe-!”

“You just tried to break up with me not even thirty minutes ago,” he screamed.

He wasn’t wrong, and you still wanted to, but you were more afraid of dying than living a lie. You pleaded with your boyfriend, assuring him that you didn’t mean it. He only laughed again, and you got the feeling that Rafe was genuinely amused by you. By your tears, by your fear, and by your desperation.

Your heart was racing so fast it could be classified as painful. Your hands were sweating and constantly sliding against the door from where you tried to hold on to it. You pulled at his arm when he swerved into the other lane, swerving back just in time to miss an oncoming truck. Your stomach twisted painfully, bile rising in your throat, and at this point you couldn’t even see the road because of your tears.

“Rafe, please, please just talk to me,” you cried.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, blue eyes focused on the road with not a glance spared towards you, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. You looked out of the window again, unable to make out a thing, and when you reached for Rafe this time, he didn’t slap your hand away. He didn’t protest when you wrapped your arm around his waist, leaning into him and resting your hand against his chest.

You knew that your tears were staining his shirt, and you didn’t know if you stopped fighting as some unconscious tactic or simply because you were accepting what was impossible to escape. Rafe had to have been going a hundred miles an hour, this kind of speed something your brain could barely fathom. It was after some time when you felt his hand on your head and some time after that when you gradually felt the truck slowing.

You were still shaking long after it came to a stop in some wooded area, and the silence in the vehicle was loud. Rafe was just playing with your hair while you trembled against him, and when he stopped, it was only to trail his hand to your neck, gripping the back of it harshly as he forced you to sit up. You knew you looked as distraught as you felt, but Rafe…

Rafe looked calm and in control and nothing less.

His blue eyes ran over your face, drinking in your trembling lips and wet cheeks, lingering on your wide eyes the longest. You felt him rub his thumb along your skin, and when he hummed, it harshly pressed against the side of your neck. Suddenly, the corner of his pink lips curved just the slightest, and nothing about it was soothing.

“I wasn’t serious… You know that, right?”

You didn’t respond because he wasn’t kidding, and you both knew it. Rafe shifted, moving closer, and he brought his other hand up to touch your cheek, wiping your tears away. He studied your eyes, leaning in and grazing your lips.

“It was just…something I didn’t mean. You understand though. Doing things…saying things we don’t mean,” he slowly said to you, swiping his tongue between his lips. “Right…?”

The drop in his voice and the slight raise of his brows had you swallowing, and he was looking at you like he dared you to disagree. Fighting the urge to throw up, and with a shaky nod, you told Rafe what he wanted to hear.

“Right,” you whispered, and he chuckled.

“Alright,” he breathed with a blinding smile, pulling you into his side. “Kelce is throwing together some small thing at his house. I told him we might stop by…”

He trailed off, leaving room for a comment, and you only shrugged.

“That’s fine with me.”

Your voice was barely audible, but Rafe heard you fine, starting the truck and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I knew it would be.”

You’d been quiet the whole night, and you’d been quiet all day, only existing as silent support to Rafe on his birthday. If anyone noticed your reserved demeanor, no one commented on it. No one knew that as you wished Rafe a happy birthday, you were afraid of what could happen if you didn’t smile hard enough. When he kissed you, you could only think of how he’d kissed you after threatening to kill you both. Every time Rafe held your hand, it felt like a chain tethering you to him.

You dreaded the moment the party would thin out and everyone would start trickling from the home in pairs, heading back to the comfort of their own homes until just Rafe and his family remained. Eventually they would call it a night too, and you and Rafe would be alone, and you wouldn’t have a choice but to kiss him back when he eventually kissed you.

…and kiss you he did.

“You almost ruined my birthday, you know,” he mumbled into the kiss, making you pause for half a second.

Your only response was a quiet apology, and Rafe sighed into your mouth.

“That’s okay, baby,” the blond purred. “You know I’ll let you make it up to me.”

You were terrified of your boyfriend, and that was why you let him undress you. You let him wrap his arms around you and hold you close and press kisses to your skin. It was surreal to have sexy with someone you were afraid of, like you were being held hostage in your own body. If Rafe noticed—and you were sure that he did—he didn’t care.

He was content to lay you down and bury his face into the crook of your neck. In fact, you were sure Rafe liked your fear, liked that you were so scared of him. You thought it made it all the more fun for him to push his cock into you and feel you tremble in fear. You just knew there was something in Rafe that took great pleasure in making you momentarily sacrifice your fear of him for ecstasy instead.

He forced your head back, and your chest arched upwards into him. You gasped at the feel of his tongue on your skin, gliding over a hardened bud and tasting you. His hips came down slowly, like he was savoring the feel of you clinging to his cock. He sighed with every thrust, and you were never able to swallow down your own moans once Rafe started stroking that fire building within you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, nipping at your lip as he plunged his cock into you.

One of your legs were thrown over his shoulder, and the stretch burned in a way that wasn’t painful but wasn’t the best either. One of your hands was wrapping around his arm, trying to ground yourself as the other twisted into his sheets. You couldn’t stop gasping, clenching down on him every time Rafe hit that spot in you that made you lose your breath.

When he pushed your leg back more, you yelped in pain, but Rafe only hummed. His thrusts became rougher, and he only hummed again when you hissed. Your hand rested on his chest, pushing against him slightly—a nonverbal communication—but Rafe ignored it.

“Rafe…”

His hips were slapping against yours, and you couldn’t even pretend to enjoy it. Your other hand came up too, and he slapped it away, that same hand wrapped around your throat only moments later. You let out a choked cry, reaching up, but Rafe didn’t stop, continuing to fuck you and choke you.

“Look at me-look at me,” he quietly spat.

Too afraid not to, you did, your distressed gaze meeting his even one in the low lighting. He was so close, nose almost brushing against yours, and he looked between your eyes. His hand tightened around your neck, making your heart skip a beat, and his free hand covered your breast, squeezing it, and your free leg kicked at the sheets.

“I will kill you.”

Your nails pressed into the skin on his arm.

“Do you understand me? You try to leave me again…and I will kill you.”

Your heart was threatening to burst from your chest, and the ceiling behind Rafe’s face was starting to blur. The edges of your vision were growing faint, darkness creeping along the outer rim.

“I will dump your body on the side of the road, and I will get away with it.”

His words and cadence were slow, purposeful, and you knew that Rafe was entirely serious. Tears had long spilled over, and you couldn’t stop crying. Rafe shook you, your neck straining from the action, and the whole time he kept fucking you. His lower movements didn’t stop once, sliding into you over and over and stroking your walls all the while he threatened you.

He roughly let you go, and you coughed, touching your throat and shaking uncontrollably. When Rafe shifted, your leg falling to the bed, you pressed your hands to your face, sobbing into the palms of them. Rafe caged you in, thighs meeting yours with every thrust, and he didn’t seem to care at all at the sight of your distress. In fact, he kissed the back of your hands, humming with every stroke, and you could only think that if you had broken up with him on your birthday then he wouldn’t be threatening your life on his.

Ward Cameron may have felt a lot of things about Rafe, but he wasn’t going to let his only son go to jail.

You should have known that when you called the police, throat tight and phone call tearful as they asked what your emergency was. Telling the woman on the other side of the phone that you were hiding from Rafe Cameron inside of the bathroom wasn’t easy. Telling her that he had a gun was even harder, and something in you wondered if they would’ve been as urgent if they hadn’t heard his booming voice from the other side of the door as he threatened you.

You were sitting on the steps when a familiar car pulled into the driveway behind the cruiser, and you felt your face crumble. There was some relief as the older man went back and forth with Shoupe, but it dwindled the longer it went on. When Ward turned his head towards you, you dropped your gaze, eyes tracing the blood on your foot from where a few shards of glass had nicked it. You didn’t dare look up, not even when you heard his footsteps approaching despite the loud protests from the Sheriff.

When Ward said your name, it was cautious—gentle—and you shook your head.

“No.”

Your name rolled off of his tongue again, and you interrupted whatever he was going to say.

“No, no, no! No,” you cried.

You knew what he was going to say, where this was going, and you refused. You were tired, so tired, and each time you’d tried to do the right thing after your disastrous birthday, you got screwed over. Each time, Rafe was one step ahead or using that charming smile and devious words to convince you it would never happen again. Every slap, every shove, every hand around your throat was proof of all the lies that left his lips.

You were sure that the only truth Rafe had ever told was when he said he’d kill you.

 It was silent between you two for some time, and you heard Ward sigh. You bit your lip, worrying it so much you started to taste blood, and you sniffed, wiping your face as you refused to look at the man. When he took another step towards you, you flinched, and only then did you look up to see the way Ward’s face fell.

You watched him press his lips together, only a thin line, now.

“I want you to tell me what happened.”

You scoffed.

“You know what happened. I’m sure Shoupe told you,” you forced out, and Ward exhaled through his nose.

He briefly glanced over his shoulder, looking at his son in the back of the cop car.

“I want to hear it from you. I want to know how a couple’s quarrel turned into-.”

“A couple’s quarrel?” you repeated in disbelief, tears falling as you exhaled. “He threw a vase at me. He put a gun in my mouth.”

You couldn’t tell how Ward took your words, but he did put his hands on his hips.

“Now, Y/N…you know it’s a crime to lie to the police.”

His response didn’t surprise you, and you nodded, your laugh humorless. Ward knew you were telling the truth, he knew just how unhinged Rafe could be, but he didn’t want him in jail. He couldn’t have the Cameron name tarnished by the arrest of his only son on domestic violence charges. Ward would rather handle this in private, away from prying eyes…and it disgusted you.

“I’m not lying, and you know I’m not lying,” you choked out.

“Why would Rafe do this? Right out of the blue?”

You were on your feet, now, sneering at the other man.

“It’s not out of the blue. Rafe has been treating me like shit for months!”

“…and this is the first we’re hearing of it…?”

The eldest Cameron tilted his head to the side, studying you, and you felt your breath leave you. You watched him touch his chest, gaze soft as he seemed to plead with you.

“Now, I’m not saying that’s not true…but you know that’s what they’re going to ask you. They’re going to ask you why you didn’t tell anyone…and they’re going to note how convenient this all is.”

You knew that, and you looked away, hands falling at your side.

“Rafe says you dropped a vase, and it started an argument.”

“He’s lying-.”

“…and anyone can say you’re the liar.”

You pressed your hands to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears fell. Even through your lids, you could see the change in colors from the flash of the squad car, and when you opened your eyes again, the procession of red and blue lit the yard.

“That gun is legally his…and no one saw him do what you claim he did.”

“Why are you protecting him?” you loudly wondered, looking at the man in disbelief.

You’d eaten dinner with his family, even watched his daughter some nights, and he’d smiled in your face on numerous occasions, treating you like his own. Now, though…when push came to shove…Ward Cameron was showing you that you were not one of his own. Rafe was his own…and you were now a threat.

He took a step towards you, and you reached out to grip the rail to keep yourself from falling.

“I am just telling you what will happen if you continue with this,” he slowly started, and you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at him. “They will take Rafe away, and I will pay his bail, and he’ll come home with me. There were no witnesses, and everything is pure speculation, a simple case of he said she said.”

You knew that he was right, and you felt yourself start to shake.

“…and in that scenario, I can’t help you.”

You knew what he was saying. You knew that he was talking about protecting you from more than just scrutiny and the law—he was also talking about protecting you from Rafe. Your lips parted, and you shakily exhaled. You felt like you were going to collapse, legs unsteady, and when you looked over…your eyes finally met a familiar blue pair.

You were positive that Rafe hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since they’d put handcuffs on him. If looks could kill, you were sure that you’d be six feet under, and you frantically blinked. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, and your stomach churned at the memory of his hand on the back of your neck. His other held the gun, angrily forcing the weapon into your mouth as he sneered at you.

Something about returning the smile from some pogue at The Wreck—blond and rowdy and kind of familiar.

You recalled that his name was JJ.

The fight had started almost as soon as you got inside, and you shuddered at the flare of pain in your arm, recalling the way Rafe had shoved you into the wall. You’d only slid down just in time to miss the flying vase. Just thinking about it was enough to paralyze you with fear…and then you thought about what would happen should you choose to have a legal battle with Rafe and his family.

…and lose.

You let out a choked sob, looking away, and letting your face fall into your hands. You collapsed back down onto the steps, Ward’s voice reaching you.

“You tell Shoupe this was all one big misunderstanding…and I can do so much more for you. …but I can’t help you if you go through with this.”

You couldn’t stop crying, because you were trapped…and you knew it. Your parents had money too, just as much as the Cameron’s, but that only evened the playing field, it gave you no advantage, and you were back to square one of your word vs Rafe’s. You knew he would be far more forgiving if you just…did what Ward said. You knew that if you went through with this and lost, Rafe would wring your neck.

“I won’t let my son go to jail, Y/N. One way or another…”

You knew he was telling the truth, the conviction in his tone matching the certainty in your chest.

“…but at least this way, I can help you.”

Your knees bounced as you wrapped your arms around yourself, your tearful gaze focused on the perfectly manicured grass. You curled in on yourself, head falling, and your shoulders shook from your sobs.

“He scares me,” you struggled to say, and Ward placated you.

“I know…I know he does, but you have to let me help you.”

You pulled the ends of your sleeves over your hands, wiping your face. The night was still lit up with red and blue, and you closed your eyes, stomach sinking. It took everything in you to give Ward a shaky nod, and you kept your eyes on the ground as Ward waved the other man over.

You felt like you were betraying yourself, arm still aching and throat still raw from all of your screaming. A lot of your trembling was still from what had happened hours ago, and like that day in his truck…and the night of his party…you’d really thought you were going to die. You couldn’t go through that again, but Ward said that he would protect you because you knew Rafe better than anyone, and you knew that if you tried to press charges against Rafe and didn’t succeed…

He would kill you.

“Y/N wants to talk to you.”

You glanced up at the sound of your name, holding Ward’s gaze for a few seconds before finally meeting Shoupe’s.

“I want… I don’t-I don’t wanna press charges.”

Your words tumbled out, and for a moment, you were sure that Shoupe hadn’t heard you properly. You came to realize that he heard you fine, and his confusion wasn’t from a lack of understanding. You watched him rest his hands on his hips, looking between you and Ward.

“Now, Y/N…” he started, seemingly trying to organize his thoughts. “I heard that phone call. I heard what you said and I heard him yelling.”

“It was just a regular argument, Shoupe,” you whispered with a shrug. “It was stupid. A stupid vase…”

“That he threw…”

The pause was heavy, and you glanced away.

“That I dropped.”

You shook your head when he said your name, and you licked your lips, gaze pleading as they met his again.

“Please, just let him go. He didn’t do anything to me. It was a stupid fight that I exaggerated because…I was angry and things got out of hand, and this just went way beyond what I intended, so…”

The other man didn’t look like he believed you, at all, and you watched him glance at Ward—who hadn’t said a thing—before looking back to you. He sighed, fixing you with a look you couldn’t name.

“Are you sure…?”

Your only response was a nod, unsure if you could lie any more without breaking down. With an aggravated sigh—aggravation at you or at Ward, you didn’t know—Shoupe signaled to his deputy to let Rafe go. Ward was pulled to the side as the two men had a hushed and heated conversation, going back and forth, while your gaze rested on Rafe.

You felt like you were doing the worst thing possible as you watched them guide him out of the backseat. He looked far from happy as they uncuffed him, and just like all night, his gaze refused to leave you. The flashing red and blue bathed him, blue eyes glinting almost dangerously, and you pressed your lips together while you watched him rub his now free wrists.

The other men were distracted as Rafe slowly made his way over, and you didn’t dare move. You were too scared to, and as much as you wanted to pull your eyes away, you couldn’t find the strength to. It was just hours ago that you’d stared into that face as he yelled at you for something as harmless as a smile. Only hours ago, he was pushing you around and threatening you.

…and now those same hands were reaching for you and pulling you to your feet.

You cried for so many reasons as Rafe wrapped his arms around you, rocking you from side to side and shushing you in what was meant to be a soothing voice. They were tight, and you cried harder, apologies slipping past your lips before you realized what you were doing. Rafe was always quick to forgive if you were quick to apologize.

“I know,” you heard and felt him murmur into your hair.

“Please, please don’t…”

You both knew what you were begging for, and he gently shushed you.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out again, repeating it as many times as you thought you should, hoping and praying that it was enough. “You have to know that…”

Your words died in the air at the sound of his voice.

“I should be angry with you…but I understand,” he softly told you. “You were scared, and you should’ve been.”

You sniffed, staring at the red and blue grass.

“I went too far, and you were right to be scared.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lingering there, telling you the words that brought you temporary relief.

“I forgive you.”

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

Summary: At the Halloween party, you have fun and finally get Joel out of your head. Sure, at least for a few hours, as the night plays a trick on you. WC: 6.1k A/N: Hi! As the tag list has gotten so big (THANK U OMG!!!) and apparently doesn't work too well, I'm not going to use it anymore. From now on, I'll be posting updates through my updates blog! So make sure to follow and turn on notifications <3 love youuu

Saturday, 7 p.m. The evening air carried a quiet sharpness that pricked at the edges of your skin, cool enough to remind you that autumn was in full swing but not so bitter as to warrant more than your tights and boots. You stepped out, the white dress flowing lightly against your thighs, its flared sleeves brushing your arms as you moved. The dark brown corset at your waist felt like a reassuring hand, grounding you, while its lift brought a confidence that hummed softly under your skin. Your boots, stretched to your knees, a quiet defense against the chill creeping in with the fading sunlight.

The door clicked shut behind you, a sound that was at once final and fleeting. You barely had time to register the weight of the evening when the low rumble of Joel’s truck snuck into the quiet, its approach measured, deliberate. You turned, instinctively, just as he stepped out. His movements were unhurried, his gaze low, as though he hadn’t seen you—or as though he was choosing not to. 

The passenger door opened next, and Sarah emerged like a burst of energy, her grin wide and unguarded. She spotted you immediately, her excitement spilling over as she called your name and hurried toward you, her arms flung wide. You caught her easily, her warmth a stark contrast to the crisp air. 

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice full of a curiosity that felt almost reverent. “You look beautiful.”

You smiled at her, taking in the mismatched charm of her outfit—fluffy bunny slippers peeking out beneath purple pajama pants patterned with white clouds, her coat barely concealing the dark blue long-sleeve shirt underneath. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m going to a Halloween party.”

Sarah pulled back slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. “But Halloween was last night. It’s November.”

You laughed softly, the sound slipping past your lips like something you hadn’t meant to reveal. “It’s never too late for a party, is it?”

Before Sarah could reply, Joel’s voice cut through the moment like a taut string snapping.

“Sarah. Home.” His tone was firm, unmistakable, though his face only lingered in the doorway for a second before disappearing inside.

Sarah ignored him with the practiced ease of someone who knew how far she could stretch the tether.

“I hope you saved me something good yesterday,” she said, turning back to you, her eyes alight with the thought of treats.

You smiled, brushing a loose strand of her hair aside. “I’m sure Brenda sent some sweets with your dad.”

“Did she make those cara—”

“Sarah.” Joel’s voice rose again, sharper this time, slicing through her sentence. His figure reappeared in the doorway, framed by the warm light spilling out behind him. His gaze landed on her first, then shifted briefly to you, his frown deepening as if your presence was an unwelcome interruption.

“Home,” he said again, the word heavier this time, a command that carried no room for negotiation.

Sarah turned toward him, her annoyance barely concealed.

“In a second!” she called back, her voice tinged with exasperation. Then, with a glance at you, she rolled her eyes dramatically. You couldn’t help but grin, mirroring her expression in a conspiratorial gesture that only seemed to deepen Joel’s scowl.

“NOW,” he barked, his patience finally unraveling. His presence filled the doorway like a storm cloud, and Sarah, sighing, gave in. 

“Go,” you told her gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. Your voice was quiet, steady, though something in your chest tightened as you spoke. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

She nodded, the mischief in her smile dimmed slightly by the weight of her father’s insistence. As she retreated, her steps slow and deliberate, you stayed where you were, watching until the door closed behind her. The ache was subtle but sharp.

You shook the thought from your mind, forcing yourself to let go of the tension Joel's mood had wrapped around you. He wasn’t going to ruin this night—not this one. You tightened your grip on your small purse and started walking toward Travis’s house. Your boots clicked against the pavement with a rhythm that felt too steady for the fluttering nerves you carried.

There was a faint nervousness bubbling under your excitement, a ridiculous thing, really, given that you’d seen Travis just that morning. He’d picked you up to go shopping, laughing at your indecision as you flitted from one idea to the next, caught between wanting something outrageous and something simple. You hadn’t known what to wear for tonight. All you knew was that you wanted to feel good. Pretty, yes. Sexy, definitely. Attractive, for sure. Something about the promise of the evening—the energy it held—made you crave a night where you didn’t have to think too hard, didn’t have to manage the weight of anything heavy. Just a night of effortless fun in good company. 

Travis was exactly the kind of company you needed. Relaxed, thoughtful in that easy way, funny without trying too hard. He knew how to take care of you without making it feel like a burden. When you’d asked for his opinion on a costume, exasperated after hours of fruitless searching, he’d picked up the white dress with an almost boyish confidence. “Victorian pirate,” he’d said with a grin, as if the idea had struck him in the moment. “Or something like that.”

You’d agreed without much thought. The dress was beautiful, and you already had the perfect corset at home to pair it with. It hugged you in all the right places, cinching your waist while lifting your chest just enough to make you feel like the women in those romantic paintings you loved—the ones with soft, curved bodies draped in gauzy fabrics, their skin glowing and inviting. And tonight, you did. The tights and knee-high boots you’d added were practical for the cool night, but they didn’t detract from the overall effect. If anything, they completed it. On the other hand, the corset hugged you the way you imagined the painter’s brush might.

By the time you reached Travis’s door, you felt confident, maybe even a little giddy. You rang the doorbell, the sound breaking the quiet night, and it wasn’t long before the door swung open. Travis stood there, framed by the soft light spilling from his hallway. He looked... well, like something you wouldn’t hesitate to sink your teeth into.

The suit, perfectly tailored, a sharp black with a red tie that caught the light against the pale blue of his shirt. The clear raincoat gave him an edge, its plastic sheen catching and refracting the soft glow from the house behind him. His hair was combed back, deliberate and smooth, and the clench of his jaw softened when he smiled at you.

“What do you think?” he asked, lifting a hand to reveal a plastic axe held loosely in his grip. “I’m Patrick Bateman.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere easy and warm.

“Of course you’re Patrick Bateman,” you said, your smile widening as you stepped inside. Your hand brushed his abdomen lightly as you passed, a touch that felt both casual and charged.

The compliment landed, making Travis pause just long enough to tuck the axe into the pocket of his raincoat. He moved toward you, closing the space between you with an ease that always felt natural. His hand settled at your waist, the leather of your corset soft beneath his fingers.

“Stop it,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in close. “Telling me that and looking this good? Stop it, or I’ll cancel the party and keep you here all night.”

His breath skimmed the edge of your ear, his lips brushing your jawline just enough to leave your skin prickling with anticipation.

“One compliment and you’re ready to throw the whole night away?” you teased, though the slight rasp in your voice betrayed how his closeness was affecting you. You felt his breath near your ear, the briefest graze of his nose against your skin, his lips brushing your jaw. Your pulse quickened. “You’re an easy target, Dunn.”

He chuckled, the sound soft and warm. “Only for you,” he said, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unguarded in his eyes, something that made the moment feel fragile in a way that was achingly sweet. “But don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

You laughed, leaning into the playful intimacy of it all. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

His lips found yours then, the kiss gentle at first, like he was testing the waters. You leaned in instinctively, wanting more, but before you could deepen it, he pulled away. You bit back a groan of frustration as he grinned, oblivious.

“We’d better go, beautiful,” he said, brushing a hand down your arm as if to soothe you. “People are waiting.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a smile. With Travis, things were always easy—except, maybe, when you wanted just a little more.

*

2 a.m. The cab door slammed shut with more force than you intended, the sound reverberating in the quiet street. The driver turned sharply, scowling.  

“I-I’m sorry,” you muttered, your words tumbling over each other.  

Travis, a few steps ahead, laughed without looking back, his shoulders shaking slightly. His keys jingled as he fumbled to unlock the door to his townhouse. The sound dragged on endlessly, the alcohol in your veins making the small delay feel monumental. You stood beside him, shifting your weight from one aching foot to the other, the dull throb only partially numbed by the buzz in your head.  

“Almost got it,” Travis mumbled, his focus unwavering despite your impatient sighs. Finally, the lock clicked, and he pushed the door open with a triumphant grin.  

You followed him inside, the warmth of his home enveloping you like a soft blanket. Without ceremony, you dropped onto his couch, sinking into its cushions with a relieved groan. Your head lolled back, your body both exhausted and energized, the kind of tension only a night like this could create.  

The evening had been perfect—better than perfect, really. For the first time in months, you’d felt free, truly free, as though the weight of everything that had been haunting you had dissolved into the dark, wine-colored sky.  

The party had been at Renzo’s house, one of Travis’s oldest friends. The place was stunning, a sprawling Mediterranean-style villa that practically glowed against the night. Its white stone façade, crowned with red tiles, looked like it had been plucked from a postcard, while spooky Halloween details added just the right touch of whimsy. Lanterns swayed gently on the porch, casting flickering shadows across life-sized skeletons perched on wicker chairs.  

Inside, the atmosphere was even more enchanting. The main room featured a long wooden table draped in black lace, adorned with candelabras dripping wax, decorative skulls, and bouquets of dried flowers that looked both macabre and elegant. Ceramic plates with dark patterns and gold accents glinted in the candlelight, completing the eerie tableau. Guests milled about in costumes that ranged from impressive to ridiculous, every outfit telling a story.  

You’d met a handful of Travis’s friends, all nice and welcoming. And by the end of the night, Renzo handed out an award for the best costume, which went to his brother Eric for his incredible The Mask ensemble. The details were so perfect, from the prosthetic teeth to the vivid green makeup, that no one could deny it was well-deserved—except Travis, who jokingly accused him of rigging the vote.  

The drinks flowed freely, and you’d had more than enough. By past midnight, your feet ached from dancing, but you didn’t care. The music pulsed, and so did you, your body pressed close to Travis’s. His hands rested on your waist, his touch grounding and electric all at once. For the first time in weeks, your thoughts didn’t drift to the things that usually kept you awake at night. Those dark eyes that haunted you in quiet moments, the ache that twisted your chest when you remembered what you’d tried to forget—they were nowhere to be found.  

Now, on Travis’s couch, you laughed uncontrollably as he struggled to string together a coherent sentence. His head rested lightly against your shoulder, and the sound of his voice, slurred and boyish, made your stomach ache with affection.  

“Whatever, you get what i mean” he said finally, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “God, I shouldn't have had that last drink.”

“Oh, you’re terrible,” you teased, reaching for his tie and pulling him toward you until his eyes met yours. “But I had a beautiful night. Please, let’s make it last.”  

Something shifted in his expression—softened, deepened. He straightened, cupping your face as his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was different from anything you’d shared before. It wasn’t cautious or measured, the way Travis usually was. This was eager, unrestrained, his mouth moving against yours like he’d been holding himself back for far too long.  

His hands found your legs, lifting them over his lap as he leaned into you. You fell back against the cushions, his weight pressing into you just enough to make your breath hitch. His lips left yours to trail along your neck, leaving a path of heat that made your chest rise and fall unevenly.  

Your fingers tangled in his hair, undoing the careful style he’d worn all evening. He groaned softly at the contact, his face lifting to meet yours again as he kissed you harder, his desire palpable and infectious.  

Your hands moved down to his belt, fumbling with the buckle in a blur of anticipation and urgency. The sound of the clasp coming undone was like a victory bell ringing in your ears.  

But then, suddenly, he froze.  

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice strained as he pulled away, turning his face to the side. “Shit, I’m gonna be sick.”  

You blinked, startled, as he scrambled off the couch and hurried toward the stairs.  

For a moment, you just sat there, propped up on your elbows, your breath coming in uneven bursts. The absurdity of the situation hit you like a wave, and despite yourself, you let out a laugh.

The moment you stood up, your feet wobbled beneath you, betraying the steadiness you were trying to project. The stairs seemed endless, each step doubling before your eyes as if the staircase were playing tricks on you. You gripped the banister tightly, willing yourself not to topple over. The vodka shots coursing through your veins made everything feel both distant and intensely vivid, the sensation disorienting but oddly comforting.  

When you finally reached the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar, the light spilling out in soft, pale streaks. Inside, Travis was hunched over the toilet, his body curled into itself, his face ghostly pale.  

“Oh,” you said softly, unsure what else to offer in the way of comfort. You moved closer, your hand instinctively finding the back of his neck, your fingers brushing the damp hair sticking to his skin. His vulnerability struck something tender in you.  

The sour smell hit you immediately, sharp and invasive, making your stomach churn in protest. But you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on Travis, on the fragility of the moment.  

He groaned softly as his body shuddered, expelling the last traces of that ill-fated drink—the electric blue cocktail he’d downed with so much confidence earlier. You grimaced at the sight but stayed, stroking his back in slow, soothing circles until the worst had passed.  

When he leaned back against the tiled wall, his face glistening with sweat, you reached out to flush the toilet, closing the lid with a gentle finality.  

“God,” he croaked, his voice thin and hoarse. “I’ve ruined it, haven’t I?”  

You laughed lightly, kneeling in front of him, your head tilting as you studied his expression. There was a defeated sort of charm in the way he looked at you, his eyes half-lidded, his usual confidence dimmed by the night’s chaos.  

“Not at all,” you replied, your words softened by the alcohol still fogging your mind. Your hand came to rest on his knee, a quiet reassurance. “Tonight’s been perfect.”  

Travis groaned, letting his head loll back against the wall. “My reputation’s in shambles. Now my pretty neighbor thinks I’m a mess.”  

You laughed again, louder this time, your inhibitions dulled enough to find his self-pity endearing. “You think I’m pretty?”  

His eyes stayed closed, but his lips curved into a smile, lazy and unguarded. “Are you kidding? No wonder Joel Miller hates me.”  

Your laugh faltered, the name cutting through the haze of the night like a blade. You blinked slowly, leaning your head against his knee, letting out a sigh that felt too heavy for the moment.  

“Oh, man,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you have to bring him up?”  

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Travis said quickly, his hand falling clumsily to your back. “Now I’ve really screwed up, haven’t I? I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I pre—”  

“Stop,” you cut him off, your voice quiet but firm. You lifted your head to meet his gaze, his curious eyes watching you closely now. “Are you feeling better?”  

“Much better,” he said, offering a small, sheepish smile.  

You pushed yourself to your feet, leaning against the sink for balance. He followed your movements, standing slowly and steadying himself with a hand against the wall. Without a word, you leaned your head against his arm, closing your eyes as you listened to the soft rhythm of his breathing.  

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, suspended in the quiet warmth of the moment, but eventually, Travis stirred. He touched your shoulder gently, his other hand extended to help you up.  

Downstairs, you collapsed onto the couch again, the effort of descending the stairs leaving you slightly breathless. Travis returned with a glass of water, holding it out with a knowing look.  

“Drink,” he said simply.  

You obeyed reluctantly, grimacing as you took a few sips. “I’m going to have a huge hangover tomorrow,” you muttered, setting the glass on the coffee table.  

“Me too,” Travis admitted, lying down beside you with a heavy sigh.  

You glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s only three in the morning?” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief. “God, I’m old.”  

Travis laughed, his grin lopsided and a little drunk. “I swear I thought it was, like, like five in the morning.”  

You chuckled, but the weight of the night was catching up with you. Your eyes drifted shut, and the world faded into a soft blur.  

When you forced them open again, sometime later, Travis was fast asleep beside you, his breathing slow and even. You sat up, careful not to disturb him, and gently shook his forearm.  

“Hey,” you whispered. “I’m going home.”  

He mumbled something incoherent, his eyes fluttering but refusing to open.

“L-let me walk you home,” he slurred, his head tilting to the side as sleep reclaimed him.  

You smiled at the sight of him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“See ya,” you whispered, the words hanging in the air as you let yourself out.

The cool night air greeted you with a sharpness that cut through the haze of alcohol still coursing through your system. It startled you, a shiver running up your spine as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. You were still drunk, but the world felt steadier now, your feet moving carefully across the pavement as you crossed the quiet street.

In your mind, you conjured the image of your warm bed waiting for you, the soft embrace of your pajamas, and maybe, if you could muster the energy, the luxury of a hot shower. The thought made your body ache for rest, but then you noticed the soreness in your face—a dull reminder of the unrelenting smile you’d worn since you’d said goodbye to Travis.

You were happy. Light. Effervescent, even. The kind of happiness that made you feel untouchable, like nothing could weigh you down.

That feeling lingered as you approached your house, though it faltered slightly when you passed by the Millers’ place. Your eyes were drawn, almost involuntarily, to the living room window. A soft, warm light glowed behind the half-transparent curtains, the kind that could only come from a solitary lamp left on too late. You slowed your steps, your gaze lingering as the sharp memory of Joel’s voice from earlier that evening surfaced.

Authoritative. Abrupt. Unbearable.

The way he’d called Sarah home felt unnecessary, almost punitive. Why had he insisted so forcefully? He didn’t usually mind her spending time with you, so why now? And what if things between you and Joel had soured to the point where he forbade Sarah from seeing you altogether? The thought stung, a sharp contrast to the Joel you used to know—the one who would never have done something like that. You hated that you couldn’t anticipate him anymore. And lately, it seemed like everything about him had shifted, like you were seeing a stranger instead of the man you’d once—

“Are you okay?”

The voice, low and steady, cut through your thoughts, making you jump. You looked up sharply, your heart skipping as your eyes adjusted to the dark porch. Joel was sitting there, barely visible except for the faint gleam of the streetlights reflecting in his eyes like stars as he watched you, his expression unreadable, the faintest hint of concern etched into his features.

You didn’t respond right away. Your brain was scrambling, trying to piece together an answer while simultaneously processing the sight of him. He stood then, stepping into the light just enough for you to see him more clearly—the broad set of his shoulders, the slight furrow in his brow, 

“What... what are you doing here?” you managed finally, your voice wavering slightly.

“Here?” he repeated, the corners of his mouth twitching in what could have been a smile. “I live here. What are you doing here?”

“I live next door,” you shot back, your tone almost defensive. You tilted your head, studying him more closely. “I meant out here. What are you doing outside? It’s late.”

Joel hesitated, his hand brushing the back of his neck in a way that told you he wasn’t going to give you a straight answer. And of course he wouldn't tell you that he'd spent the evening on his couch watching TV, alone, or that he’d been restless all evening.

“It’s Saturday,” he said finally, his voice calm, almost teasing. “Well, Sunday now.”

After having dinner with Sarah, she'd retreated to her room—furious with him for cutting her time with you short—he’d spent the better part of the night sitting on his couch, half-watching some mindless TV show, his attention divided between the screen and the window. Waiting. Then, just as he was beginning to close his eyes, a sharp knock woke him up; the cab door. But of course, he didn't get to see the yellow car because when he got to the window, he only got to make out your body coming through Travis' door, cab long gone. 

When you disappeared inside Travis house, something inside him twisted. Restlessness turned into something heavier, something he couldn’t name, and the next thing he knew, he was on the porch with a beer in his hand, staring out into the night like the answer might appear if he stayed long enough.

You nodded absently, but your eyes betrayed you, roaming over him without restraint. It had been a while since you’d let yourself really look at him. Lately, every glance had been fleeting, clouded with irritation or anger. But now, in the quiet glow of the streetlights, there was no denying it.

He was beautiful. Infuriatingly, achingly beautiful.

Your stomach twisted with the realization, the way it always did when you thought about him for too long. You could try to distract yourself with Travis, with his boyish charm and kind eyes, but it wasn't enough. 

Travis didn’t have those dark, fathomless eyes that seemed to hold every one of your secrets. He didn’t have that nose you loved so much or the lips you’d tasted once and could never forget. His voice wasn’t rough and silken all at once, nor did it carry the weight of every word like Joel’s did.

You hated how much you liked him, how much you wanted him. It was uncomfortable, unbearable, because there was nothing you could do about it. Joel was untouchable now, a door that had been closed and locked a month ago.

“I hate you, Joel,” you said suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. They weren’t loud, but they were steady, deliberate.

His smile faded, replaced by a quiet, thoughtful expression. He nodded slightly, as if weighing your words.

“Do you?” he asked, his voice level, his eyes searching yours.

You smiled faintly, almost amused by the softness in his tone. You shifted your weight, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Do you care about it?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice dipping lower with honesty. “But I know it’s not true.”

"Why do you always say that?" you demanded, voice thick with frustration, your arms crossed so tightly against your chest it felt like you might bruise your own ribs. The alcohol in your bloodstream turned every word into a dare, every thought into an accusation. "'I know it's not true. I know you're lying. I know you don't mean it'. What, are you like this omniscient, all-knowing shit—blah, blah, blah?. Didn't it ever occur to you that maybe you don't know anything at all?"

Joel’s eyes softened, his expression unreadable but intent. His hands stayed buried in his pockets, steady while you felt like you were spinning out of control.

"Lately? Yeah," he said finally, his voice low. "I don’t know anything."

The simplicity of his confession, the quiet honesty of it, made you snort in disbelief. You turned your head to the side, looking anywhere but at him, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your thoughts from spilling out unchecked. When you looked back, his eyes weren’t on your face anymore. They’d dropped lower, lingering somewhere around your waist. Probably on your corset, you realized. Suddenly, the fabric felt suffocating. Not painfully tight, but enough to make you aware of every breath you took.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, tone sharp, defensive. And when he didn’t answer, you pressed harder. “What do you want, Joel?”

“Me?” he asked, his voice calm, almost indifferent.

You nodded, daring him to answer.

“I don’t know.” His lips tilted in a faint smirk. “You’re the one standing here in my doorway. Weren’t you just peeking in my window?”

Your mouth fell open. “I wasn’t peeping, dumbass,” you said, fumbling over the words, heat rushing to your face. “I was—”

"Yes, you were," he interrupted smoothly, a trace of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t smug, not really, but it wasn’t innocent either.

God, it was infuriating.

"Ugh," you groaned, the sound dragged out like it could physically push him away. Your arms dropped to your sides, and you turned your face skyward, exasperated. "Were you always this much of an asshole?"

Joel held back a laugh, his head shaking slightly as he raised his eyebrows at you, his silence infuriatingly steady.

"Okay," he said finally. "You’re drunk."

"Yeah, Einstein," you shot back, your voice sharp and your eyes wide as you threw your hands in the air in mock applause. "You’re finally right about something! Everyone, let’s hear it for Joel!"

You clapped for him, slow and exaggerated, addressing an invisible audience. Joel glanced down, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face before he hid it.

That didn’t stop the memory from rising, unbidden: Clara, her hand slipping into his at the barbecue, her laugh bright and flirtatious, her eyes shining with self-satisfaction. It had turned your stomach then, and now the bitterness came rushing back in full force.

"Do you think what you’re doing is right, Joel?" you asked, your tone sharper than before, slicing through the fragile quiet between you.

His brows knit together, confused, and he tilted his head slightly as if to ask what you meant.

"Do you think you’re accomplishing anything by sleeping with the women in this neighborhood?" you continued, your words rushing out faster now. "I mean, first you sleep with me—oh, the worst mistake of your life—then you sleep with Clara. And what about Sienna? What does she think of all this? You’re a selfish, irresponsible man, Joel Miller, so irresponsible." The words kept spilling, your voice trembling now, laced with both anger and something softer, something that felt like pain. "And as if that wasn’t enough, you’ve ruined us. Completely. And I hate you for that, Joel. I hate you because you’re not the man I thought you were. And i love you so much I—"

Your gaze dropped to the ground, unable to meet his eyes. The tears welled up before you could stop them, blurring the edges of your vision and leaving your cheeks hot.

You hated how raw it all felt. How exposed. And worse, how the alcohol that had loosened your tongue was no longer numbing enough to shield you from the reality of what you’d just said.

Before you could stop him, Joel’s hands came to rest gently on your arms. The warmth of his touch made your stomach flip, and it took everything in you to pull away.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking him off and turning on your heel. But you barely managed two steps before your foot caught awkwardly in front of the other, sending you stumbling.

You yelped as your palm scraped against the ground, but Joel caught your other arm before you could fully collapse. The heat of embarrassment rushed to your face as you stood quickly, brushing off your dress and refusing to look at him.

You marched toward your door with renewed determination, ignoring the sting in your palm and the sound of his voice calling after you.

“Wait,” he said, his tone softer now, almost pleading. 

But you didn’t stop. Your trembling fingers fumbled with the key, eyes fixed on the lock as if opening the door quickly enough could make him—and everything you’d just said—disappear.

The key slid into the lock on your first try, a stroke of luck you hadn’t expected. You stumbled inside, not bothering to close the door behind you. Maybe it was unconscious, or maybe some buried, foolish part of you wanted him to follow. Whatever the reason, Joel did, shutting the door softly as he stepped in, his footsteps trailing after your clumsy, rushed ascent up the stairs. His hand found your lower back more than once, steadying you whenever your feet betrayed you and your balance faltered.

When you reached your room, his presence pressed down on you, heavy and inescapable. Your chest felt tight, emotions boiling over with an intensity you couldn’t contain. The exhaustion—of everything—clawed at your insides, raw and relentless.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, spinning to face him, your palms colliding with his chest in a sharp slap. The sound echoed between you, loud and angry. You hit him again, this time harder, though he barely moved, only stepping back an inch. “Fuck you. Fuck you. You’re a complete asshole, and I hate you. I hate you so much.” Your fists clenched, pounding against him now, the blows strong but harmless.

Joel didn’t resist. He let your fists land where they would, but then his hands rose, gentle and deliberate, catching your wrists mid-punch. The pressure of his fingers around your forearms was firm but not threatening, as if he was trying to guide the violence out of you without a word.

His stillness broke you more than anything could, and the weight of his quiet left you reeling, unsure of what to say next. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why was he standing there, letting you fall apart?

“Say something!” you cried, your voice cracking, desperate and raw.

But he didn’t. His silence stretched between you, maddening and unbearable.

Your vision blurred as tears spilled over, hot and heavy, the release leaving you shaking. Your sobs filled the room, a sound so guttural it startled even you.

“Why did you have to do this to me?” you demanded, your fists still pressed against his chest, though they no longer moved. Your voice broke entirely now, trembling as you added, “Why do you keep hurting me, Joel, why are you acting like this? What did I do to deserve this from you?”

Joel’s breath hitched, his shoulders sinking as if under the weight of your words. His eyes, glassy and red, shone in the dim light. “I-I’m sorry, I'm sorry” he whispered, his voice rough and uneven. “I’m so sorry. Please… please forgive me. I love you, baby, I love you, I've al—”

“No, you don’t.” You shook your head, your voice trembling as his hands left your wrists and wrapped around you instead, pulling you closer. “You don’t.”

But you didn’t push him away. His arms were warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself fall into them. The pain dulled, just slightly, under his touch. You hated him for it. You hated yourself more for letting it happen.

“Yes, I do,” Joel said, his voice thick with emotion.

You wanted to look up, to see his face, to know if the tears in his voice matched the ones burning in your eyes. But you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you buried your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek.

Gently, he scooped you up and carried you to the bed. He set you down softly, his hands brushing against your arms as he pulled away. You sank back into the pillows, your gaze distant, your sobs quieting into sniffles.

Joel knelt at the edge of the bed, his hands moving to unlace your boots. He didn’t look at you, his focus entirely on the task, but his face betrayed him. His eyes were rimmed red, his cheeks damp, his expression taut with pain.

Once the boots were gone, you lay back fully, staring blankly at the ceiling as the room swayed gently around you. Your head throbbed, and your chest ached, but the tears had slowed, leaving behind only exhaustion.

The mattress shifted behind you as Joel settled in beside you. He kept his distance, but you could feel the heat of him near you, the tension in the air, a palpable thing you didn’t know how to navigate. You could still hear his breathing, steady but strained.

When his fingers brushed your waist, you stiffened.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking softly. “Let me take that off. It can’t be comfortable, right?”

"No," you answered, and as the corset loosened, you felt a wave of relief rush through you, a softness you hadn’t even realized you needed.

Joel moved the corset off your body in one smooth motion, dropping it carelessly to the floor. Then, he returned to his position, inches away, and for a few minutes, there was nothing but silence between you again.

You closed your eyes, the weight of the night pressing against you, the exhaustion dragging you into a dreamless sleep. But just before you drifted off, you heard your own voice, quiet and pleading.

“Please go home, Joel,” you whispered. “I want to be alone."

He didn’t argue, although you could hear him doubting. Then, you felt him shift behind you, his hand brushing your arm briefly in a gesture that felt almost like goodbye.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice so low it was nearly inaudible.

The door clicked shut behind him, and you exhaled deeply, letting the tears come again, though they felt emptier now, less urgent.

Next door, Joel stepped into his house, the quiet suffocating him as he sank into the couch. The air felt too thick, the walls too close. He pressed his hands to his face, trying to keep himself from falling apart, but it was no use. The despair was overwhelming, a mix of regret, shame, and a self-loathing so profound it left him hollow. And he couldn't help thinking that maybe, it was too late after all. No action or word from him could undo the pain he had seen in your eyes that night.

In the quiet of his own mind, he hated himself more than you ever could. 

-

@nobodyssfool @gigistorm @maryfanson @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @powellssaturn @kyloispunk @paleidiot @aceaubrianna @liciafonseca @kaolusha @beeboopski @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame

[eupheme]

— seek you out, hunt you down

kraven x f!reader

rated e - 3.7k

tags: predator/prey kink, annoyance-to-lovers, outdoor sex, rough sex, references to oral (f rec.), teasing, implied established safeword, dom!kraven, possessive!kraven, softness mixed in because it’s me

a/n: something quick & smutty, based purely on trailer vibes

“We’re about five miles from the edge. If you can find your way out before I find you, I’ll let you take point until we get there.”

“But when I win, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” He rasps, the words slow - drawn out, “No more of that smart mouth. Understand?”

His eyes had flickered as you had paced. That swirling change, darkening from blue to black to gold.

Tracking you slowly, automatically.

As you had complained - tired of another day of him ignoring the map you’d been following. Insisting on taking you up and around and down and over.

So confident that he knew. That he knew better.

But, christ - you weren’t helpless. Calypso has sent you with him for a reason.

And maybe - perhaps - he was right, about some of it. Avoiding a flooding stream, picking around a jagged outcropping of rock. He did have a real track record, after all.

But he was so goddamn annoying about it.

A heavy sigh had cut you off.

The flex of a bare bicep, as his arms crossed, “Tell you what, sweetheart.”

Condescension dripping from the word as his eyes had scanned the horizon - through the forest of trees. Focusing for a second, before they were fixing on yours again.

“We’re about five miles from the edge. If you can find your way out before I find you, I’ll let you take point ‘til we get there.”

Your pacing had slowed to a halt, thinking for a moment about his offer. Stepping closer, as you scoffed.

A finger had pointed, twirling up into the branches, “No way. You’ll just use them.”

The creatures of the forest. His unnatural connections.

His tongue licked across his teeth, his look dark. Voice quiet, laced with assurance as he had smirked.

“I won’t.”

A moment, then, “Don’t need to.”

Your eyebrows had rose, challenging. Irritation prickling at his confidence, that need to best him rising.

“Fine.” You had bit out.

“Fine.” He smiled.

His own fingers reached out then, hooking around the thick strap of your belt, looped into your jumpsuit.

Giving it a sharp tug, as he pulled you between his spread knees. A slow drag of his eyes, starting at his hands, then up and up.

Tracing over your form.

A heat had burned, even then. Flickering to life, as his voice has dropped.

“But when I win, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” He rasps, the words slow - drawn out, “No more of that smart mouth. Understand?”

The look he had given you had made you shiver. Heated, as his face has tipped up to yours. Daring you.

You swallowed, before your tongue peeked through your teeth, to wet your lips. His eyes watching the movement, as you had nodded.

Letting go, as you stepped away.

“No cheating.” You reminded him, as you turned - starting to plot out your own path, “And I get a head start.”

A rough laugh, as he shifted fully onto the stump he was leaning against, slowly crossing his legs. Ensuring that he wouldn’t be able to feel the tremor of your steps, sending the direction you’d be heading.

“Fifteen minutes.” He had warned you, as his eyes closed.

“Go.”

A branch scrapes against your cheek.

A flash of pain that you ignore, a small flinch as you push past it and keep going.

Resisting the urge to look around. To check if you can see him - high in the branches above. Lurking behind a tree.

No, you decide to continue. A path's been set in your mind, during that brief second you had taken to get your bearings. Purposely taking off in the wrong direction, hoping he'd hear.

Changing course soon after. Wading through streams. Up and across logs, only to drop down half-way, to throw him off.

You think with the head start, you can make it. He was a tracker, but you were a survivor.

Keeping both of you alive, when the weather turned cruel. Stitching him up when he fell apart, when he was too hell-bent on revenge to care.

The plains were his home but the forests had been yours. A comfort in the shades of green and brown, some sort of internal compass that kept your path true. You just have to be a little faster, a little smarter, than him.

A branch snaps behind you, the sound echoing. A thrill shoots through you - fear and something more, something hot and twisting - as you take off at a run.

Not bothering to look, keeping your eyes fixed ahead.

Ducking past the tall pines and through the foliage. Your heart pounding in your throat as you eye a drop in the path you've chosen - a second before you decide to make the too-wide jump.

You land, a throb in your ankle, fingers grasping onto a shrub as you pull yourself up. There's a second as you think you hear your name - breathed out in the wind.

It makes you push on faster. Risking a glance this time, a second where you think you see a flicker in the dark shadows behind you.

Your jaw grits, as you fling yourself forward. Eyes fixing on the layers of green ahead. Where you think it's been getting thinner - some of those miles and a long stretch of time passing since you first began.

Bring the edge close enough to taste.

But there's another flicker, off to your left.

One that diverts you, a shift as you veer off-course, your straight line turning serpentine as you adjust. That spike of unease back again, with that same melding of something warm and smooth in your belly.

The rustle comes again, as you push yourself into a sprint.

Again, and then again. Echoing off the trees, a layering of footsteps that blend with yours - chasing you - until your head is spinning and each breath is coming in a short gasp.

Forgetting for a second, that this was a game.

A splintering jolt of fear coursing through you, that word on the tip of your tongue, for just an instant. The one that would end this, and bring him back to you.

But then there’s a whisper, that cuts through your thoughts. Pulling you back, as you recognize his voice. Making you remember that you had intended to beat him.

It has you skidding to a stop. Taking just a second to get your bearings, your head whipping around as you realize the footsteps have stopped.

That the only thing you can hear is your panting breath.

You see nothing. Not even a shadow.

That is, until his voice comes again - sounding so close to your ear.

“Found you.”

A cry is caught in your throat, as he crashes into you. Sending you both tumbling onto the ground, across the dirt and moss.

You’re able to roll, to push yourself up. But you’re no match for the speed that the melding of the serum and blood had given him - still rising as he’s already crouching over you.

His hand shoots out, as you duck to the side. Managing to get back on your feet - evading him for a second until the second dart of his hand finds its target.

Catching your arm, sending you down, again.

There’s a split second as you’re able to kick out. Hooking the toe of your boot around his ankle, taking him down with you. Scrabbling in the dirt as he shifts, pulling himself on top you - his weight pinning you down.

A grin, as his thighs slot with yours.

Your groan disguised as a shaky breath when he nudges purposely against your core. Straddling your leg as his hands grabs your wrists.

A knee rises, intending to connect with his back - but he uses the momentum to roll with you. Flipping you over onto your stomach, twisting one of your wrists behind your back.

The other fisting in the collar, pushing down hard. Scruffing you like a cat as he laughs - shifting onto his knees behind you.

“Good try with those tricks of yours.” Sergei sighs, with another click of his tongue, “But not good enough.

You’re panting beneath him now, all of that exhaustion catching up. A stitch in your side from the running, layered with the bitter taste of defeat.

“How did you find me?” You finally manage, as your cheek presses into the soft moss - a little wiggle as you try to break free.

There’s a hum then, at your attempt - a little jolt as he adjusts you beneath him. Pulling you onto your knees as he pushes down, leaning over you.

Caging you in, as he reveals his own trick. The words drawn out.

“I could smell you.”

His nose skims your ear, making you tremble. Lowering it to press against neck, just at the curve of your jaw. Inhaling.

The breath he exhales is slow, shaky. Edged with the low rumble of his voice.

“And right now… you smell like you wanted me to catch you.”

You moan without thinking - an unconscious rocking of your hips that sends the curve of your ass pressing against his thighs, nudging against where he’s hard.

A whimper stifled as he meets the shift of your hips with a grunt of his own. A hiss of breath through teeth as he bears down on the hand that wraps around your wrist.

Curving himself down until his mouth ghosts against your ear, and you can feel the warm curl of his breath against your skin.

“Am I right?” He croons - his voice low and smooth, as his hips rock lazily against yours, “I bet you are soaked, baby.”

You’re grateful he can’t see his expression. To see how right he was - how that heat has settled into a heady thud between your thighs.

A sigh, then, as he presses himself flush. Nudging the thick ridge of his trousers against your core, as your eyes flutter shut. Your teeth gritting, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Not yet.

Lips press against your neck, right where you pulse thuds. You wonder if he can hear you, too. Where the adrenaline has bled into need, if he knows how the beating of your heart has changed it’s course.

“You couldn’t get enough of me last night.” He sighs - and you squirm again, as you remember.

His mouth between your thighs, for hours. Pulling pretty sounds beneath the little camp you set up. Over and over, until you were trembling.

You’re brought back, as Kravinoff’s voice drops.

“And I know you’ve always liked the chase. “

You do groan then, some of that strung-tight tension going slack. A pleased hum as he leans back, letting go of your wrist. His fingers wrapping around your belt instead, anchoring you to him.

“Show me.” He commands, as you finally glance back his way.

Following the line of his arm, up past the curves of muscle. To bare shoulders - the straps of his leather vest.

To eyes that suddenly fix on yours, pulling from the curve of your ass, your spread thighs.

They ensnare you, sending your heart tripping. An intensity as their shade flickers to that gold again, above the tick of a jaw.

“You agreed to listen,” He reminds you, firmly, “So show me how much you want my cock, sweetheart. You’re not getting it until you do.”

Indignation lances through you, as you consider his offer.

But desire wins out, as it always does. That pressure against the small of your back easing as your fingers find the zipper between your breasts. Tugging it down - opening you up.

Reaching between your thighs, the quiet jingle of metal as you let the pull go. Your thighs shifting further apart, an arch to your back as you try to entice him.

Watching as he clicks his tongue, the slightest shake that sends his long curls brushing against his cheeks.

“Not good enough, baby.”

With your own muffled growl, your gaze tears from him. Fitting your hand between your thighs again - hooking around the gusset of your underwear. Tugging it to the side, where the elastic digs into your skin.

Baring you.

He hums then, his other hand leaving your hip. A soft moan as his fingers trace against your folds, sliding over your slick. Teasing, making a wide circle around you clit before he pulls back, leaving you wanting.

Glancing down at his fingers, where your arousal webs between them. Leaning over you again, nudging those fingers against your bottom lip.

You open for him, and he smiles.

“Do you taste ready?” He asks you, his fingers pressing deep.

You moan around them in answer, as the coarse canvas of his pants press against bare skin. As you taste the tang of your desire, as his fingers inch towards your throat.

The pressure on your waist lifts, the clink of his belt coming a second later behind you.

His cock hanging heavy as you suck, his thumb pressing on the hollow under your chin when your teeth graze purposely his fingers.

Pulling them free, glossy again with you. A low growl as the wrap around his cock, slicking himself up with a rough pump of his fist.

The fat head slides against your folds, bumping against your clit. You hiss his name, his smile slow and dark as he wraps your belt around his hand again.

“You’d let me take you? Right here?”

He’s pressing against your entrance now, the slightest tease before pulling back. Again, and then again, until your frustration wells up, before spilling over.

“Fuck.” You whine, “Yes. Yes, okay? Anywhere you want.”

There’s a rumble in his throat, then. A deep pleased hum, “You’re so fucking filthy, sweetheart.”

Then with a grunt, he’s yanking you backwards. Spearing himself deep into you with a sharp thrust as you cry out, your muscles clenching around him as he bottoms out in you.

He’s big - on most nights he works you open with his fingers. Making you come on his tongue, unable to resist tasting you before you’re coming on his cock.

Right now, you’re both too keyed up. That sharp snap of his hips a surprise, but your thighs are slick and damp with need. From his teasing.

From the chase.

He’s hushing you - his words low as he pulls back, a groan as he fills you again.

“You can take it.” Sergei grits out, punctuating each word with a rock of his hips, “Know you can-”

With each stroke the pressure twists into pleasure. Letting him tug you back to meet his thrusts, a moan pushed from you with each one.

Your fingers curling into fists, as your thoughts begin to turn fuzzy. His cock pounding again and again against a spot he found those many weeks ago.

When the lingering looks on the road to hunt down his father had turned to touches. Layers peeled away under the blanket of stars. Committing each little sound you made to memory - remembering exactly what to do to make you cry out.

There’s none of those soft touches here. He’s relentless - a steady pounding of his hips against yours. The wet suck of your cunt as you take him, loud as skin slaps against skin.

Your boneless beneath him. A pleasure building that has you trying to reach between your thighs against, but his thrusts send you off-balance.

A hand steadying on the ground against as he groans, his head tilting back. Hair swaying with each rock of his hips, curling clinging to the sweat on his forehead.

Your voice cracks on a moan, as you try to ask for just a little more. Needing that friction against your clit, instead of the teasing slap of his balls when he grinds himself deep.

“Sergei, please-”

His head tilts forward, eyes meeting yours. There’s a clench in his jaw that tells you he’s not far off, that he just as wrapped up in this as you are.

A moment, when you’re certain he’s going to deny you. A whine in your throat - coming out broken as he pulls himself from you.

Leaving you feeling empty, ripped away from the cusp of your release.

“What are you-” You’re hissing, before he’s shoving at you, pushing you onto your back.

Crawling between your thighs, hands gripping at the fabric of your suit as he hauls your legs around his waist.

Filling you again, with another devastating thrust. It had your back lifting off the ground, your hand scrabbling as you keen - catching on the leather of the cuff around his wrist.

Clinging to him as he tugs your hips higher. Keeping you arched against him as he angles himself until he’s stroking that spot again.

And Christ, you prefer this angle. All the better to see him, something you can’t appreciate at night.

The bounce of the claw against his chest, swinging from the cord. The press of the leather knife hilt against your thigh.

The snarl of his lips when you clench down - a hand leaving your hips to trace against the space where you’re stretched wide around him.

Still letting you cling to the other, as his thumb traces up. Hovering just where you need him, as his eyes flick up to yours.

You’re sure you’re a mess. Sticky, skin dewed with sweat. Your suit split down the middle, right down to your cunt.

But his lips curls - a flash of white teeth with his sharp smile. Finally letting his thumb press against your clit as you sigh, amused by the way you rock needily into his touch.

A moment of silence as he watches, before he’s confessing.

“I liked watching you run.”

His voice is smoky and low, eyes lingering on the flushed peek of his cock as he pulls out - before it’s buried in you again.

“Think if it was anyone else, you might have made it.”

An almost idleness in his tone. Like it’s something known, like it always would be.

But that’s before he shifts - letting your hips drop, as he leans over you instead. His thumb pressing tight circles as he arcs over you, as your hands wrap around the edge of his leather vest.

“But not me.”

A moment, as his eyes search yours. A predatory look to them, unblinking as he ensnares you, once again. The smallest shake of his head.

“No. I’ll always find you.”

A long time ago, it would have been a threat. Now, it feels like a promise, seeping into the cracks of your skin. Filling you completely, utterly.

“I know.” You breath. And then, with your admittance, his head dips - lips pressing hungrily against yours.

It’s messy, all teeth and tongue. You swallow his growl as he licks into your mouth, a little tug as you pull him closer.

The press of his fingers, this new angle, pull you back to the brink. So close you can almost sink you teeth into it - that mindless feeling drifting back into your thoughts. Everything else emptying out, as you try to grasp at your release.

He pulls back, only to brush his lips against yours. The bristle of his beard tickling your cheek, as his nose bumps against yours.

“Wanna feel you come, baby.” Sergei husks, “Know you’re close, I can feel how needy that little pussy of yours is.”

His lips press against your throat again. Teeth scraping skin as he groans, his thrusts turning shallow as he ruts into you. Leaving a mark against your skin that he soothes with his tongue.

Your grip on his vest allowing you to chase the feeling, using the leverage to meet the slap of his hips.

Until you feel it about to break, his name chanted out with each heady thrust.

“S-Sergei, please don’t stop. Oh my god-”

Suddenly, it’s crashing over you. Your teeth sink into his shoulder as you come, the moan high and muffled as you pulse around him. Scoring the leather as your muscles string tight - a mark that he’ll wear with pride.

“Fuck. Feel so fucking-” He growls - never slowing, never stopping.

Leaning into your release. The way it coats his cock, makes each thrust most slick. Easing back when you finally let go, only to catch his hands beneath your knees.

Spreading your thighs open and then back. Bending you near in half so he can be as deep as he can when he comes. His own pleasure a tight ball that sparks in his belly - a foot planted on the ground as he drives into you.

“So good to me. So fucking good-” He growling, before you feel the pinch of his hands, squeezing the flesh of your thighs.

Another sloppy thrust, as his lips part on a guttural groan. Grinding himself as you milk him - feeling each twitch of his swollen cock inside your tight walls as he spills himself inside.

A secondary pleasure flaring to life, as he marks you so thoroughly. Knowing it will be dripping into your suit for the rest of the day - the thought making him moan as he continues to rut into you until you’ve taken every drop.

Only then does that tight grip loosen - you legs finally lowering.

A hand under your head as his touches turn gentle, easing you beneath him as he settles between your thighs.

Lips pressing between the curves of your breasts, a contented hum when you finally have the strength to brush your fingers through his curls.

Unable to help chancing a look, your head tilting back. Where you can just see the edge of the tree line were breaks into an open field.

Not realizing he was watching until you hear a low hum, a rough sound of amusement, “Mm. So close, sweetheart.”

You scoff, but it’s light-hearted. Still too fucked-out to care about the wager anymore.

“But I won, which means you agreed to listen to me.” He reminds you, as he pushes himself up on an elbow.

Still buried in you, even as his release has begun to leak from you. The smallest rock of his hips, as he nudges himself deeper. As his head dips so he can brush his lips against yours.

You sigh into the kiss, as you feel him twitch inside you. Swelling, as he rolls his hips against yours.

“And I think we’re not quite finished yet.”

ahh thanks for reading - hope you all enjoyed! 💖

@inklore, @spiderispunk, @tarrenterror25, @celestianstars, @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok, @mrsdarkandyandere7, @peonylie, @tangerinesgf, @whatamidoingonthissite, @earth-elemental18, @labyrinth-of-thoughts

[thatlotuscookie]

HELLO I THINK IT WAS MY REQUEST THAT GOT DELATED! So it was something about Dabi x villain member of the lov reader. And he's a dick to her and she always thought he hated her, and she gets super drunk after one mission and calls for Dabi to take her home and when he'd driving her home, she confesses to him, tells him that he's pretty and wants to touch his face, and then giggles and tells him that she always knew he's the lost todoroki and says that she'll be Mrs. Todoroki one day. And then next day she wakes up with a terrible hangover and she doesn't remember half of the things she said, and then he says something and refers to her as Mrs. Todoroki and she gets so blushy and embarrassed 😆😆

I NEED SOME FUNNY FLUFF😂❤️

✧･ﾟ: a/n : hello!! I’m so sorry about your request getting deleted but I’ve got it here now, and I absolutely LOVE the idea! Drunk confessions are always a fun mix of hilarious and heartwarming, and Dabi dealing with it is just chef’s kiss. Plus, the whole “Mrs. Todoroki” bit? I’m living for it! I hope this gives you all the funny fluff you were hoping for. Thank you so much for your patience and for sending this gem again!

✧ Title: ✧ Mrs. Todoroki in the Making ✧ ✧ Characters: Dabi x Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Fluff, Humor, Romance ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: After a mission, you, being drunk, call Dabi to take you home, only to spill some wild confessions about him being a Todoroki and claiming you'll be "Mrs. Todoroki" one day. ✧ Content/Tags: Fluff, Humor, Confessions, Drunk Confession, Dabi Teasing, Light Angst, Embarrassment, Established Relationship ✧ WC: 1200 words // 6.7k chars

You always thought Dabi hated you. He was all sharp edges and sarcasm, constantly making smart remarks and giving you that signature look—the one that said, you’re nothing but a nuisance. His icy blue eyes would narrow at you, and you'd just know he couldn't stand being around you. The thought didn’t exactly fill you with joy, but you did your best to ignore it.

Tonight, however, was a little different. After a particularly grueling mission, the League decided to relax with a few drinks. You, eager to let off some steam, indulged a bit too much. Soon enough, your vision blurred, and the room felt like it was spinning. The others had already left, and you were left sitting alone, a little too drunk to find your way home.

You didn't even think twice when you picked up your phone and called the one person who somehow always stuck around.

“Dabi,” you slurred, smiling lazily as the ringing in your ear echoed. “You gotta come get meee.”

On the other end of the line, Dabi sighed, but there was no harshness in his tone. “You can’t handle your liquor, huh?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ playfully. “Pick me up, please? I—I can't walk straight.”

Dabi didn’t hang up. Instead, with a soft grunt of acknowledgment, he drove over to where you were, and when he arrived, his expression was less irritated and more… patient? He stepped out of the car, walked over to you, and gently lifted you up, one hand supporting your back as the other steadied your legs.

“There you go,” he said softly, guiding you into the passenger seat. He was surprisingly gentle, handling you with a kind of care you didn’t expect from someone who usually radiated indifference.

You giggled, your drunken mind swirling with thoughts you never dared say out loud. As he drove, you leaned your head against the window, turning to look at him with sleepy eyes.

“Y’know…” you started, voice a little sing-songy. “You’re really pretty.”

Dabi blinked, his eyes widening ever so slightly. “What?”

“You heard me,” you said with a soft laugh. “You’re, like, really pretty. I’ve always wanted to touch your face. Can I touch your face?”

For a second, Dabi didn’t answer. He glanced at you, and instead of the annoyed sneer you expected, there was a small, almost invisible twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips. He shook his head slightly, but his voice remained gentle.

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep,” he said, but the way he glanced at you, with a softness in his eyes, gave him away.

“Nooo,” you whined. “I’m serious. You’re so pretty.”

Dabi smirked but didn't say anything. You could’ve sworn there was a hint of warmth behind that smirk, like he wasn’t brushing off your compliment but taking it in. And then, suddenly, your mind latched onto a secret you’d been keeping.

“I know who you are,” you whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer as if you were sharing the world’s greatest secret.

Dabi’s brow arched slightly. “Oh? And who’s that?”

“You’re a Todoroki,” you said, giggling. “I know it. But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”

Dabi froze for a moment, his grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly. But then, his gaze softened, and he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head again.

“Of course,” he muttered. “What else do you know?”

You leaned back, closing your eyes, feeling the world spinning around you as you smiled dreamily. “One day… I’m gonna be Mrs. Todoroki. I’ll marry you, and we’ll live happily ever after.”

Dabi nearly laughed at that, though it wasn’t mocking. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a real smile tugging at his lips this time.

“Mrs. Todoroki, huh?” he mused, his voice soft. “That’s a bold statement.”

“Yup,” you replied, still giggling. “And you’ll love me forever and ever.”

Dabi didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled the car to a stop in front of your place, getting out and walking around to your side. This time, when he helped you out of the car, his movements were even more careful, his hand gently resting at your waist as he guided you inside.

“You okay to make it to your bed?” he asked, his tone almost… caring?

“I dunno,” you mumbled, stumbling a little as you tried to stand. Without hesitation, Dabi caught you, one arm supporting you as he led you to the couch, carefully lowering you onto the cushions.

You blinked up at him, still smiling. “Thanks, Dabi. You’re so nice to me. I like you.”

Dabi just shook his head, crouching down in front of you. His hand brushed your hair out of your face, his touch surprisingly soft. “Get some sleep. You’ll thank me later.”

“Goodnight, future hubby,” you mumbled, already drifting off.

Dabi chuckled under his breath. “Goodnight, Mrs. Todoroki.” ~~~The Next Morning~~~

You woke up to the world’s worst headache. Groaning, you sat up, rubbing your temples as fragments of the night before danced through your mind. You remembered calling Dabi, him driving you home… and then… oh no.

You froze, eyes widening as the fog of your hangover slowly lifted. “Oh god… did I—did I tell him I’d marry him?”

Just then, the door creaked open, and there he was. Dabi, leaning against the frame, arms crossed, his usual smirk firmly in place. But this time, there was something softer in his expression, like he wasn’t here to make fun of you—just to tease you in the most infuriatingly gentle way possible.

“Morning, Mrs. Todoroki,” he said, his voice holding that familiar sarcastic edge but layered with something else—something playful.

You wanted to die on the spot. “No… please tell me I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, you did,” he said, stepping closer, his smirk growing wider. “You called me pretty, said you knew my ‘secret,’ and then declared you were gonna marry me one day.”

Your face flushed a deep red. “I was drunk! I didn’t mean it!”

Dabi chuckled, crouching down to meet your gaze. His hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You sure? You seemed pretty confident last night.”

“I—I was… I don’t…” you stammered, your heart racing as his touch lingered for just a second too long.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, Mrs. Todoroki.”

“I… you think so?” you asked, still flustered but unable to ignore your stomach growling in response.

“Yeah, so get up,” he said, nudging you gently. “You need to eat something before you die of a hangover.”

You finally looked up at him, gratitude flooding your senses. “Thanks, Dabi. Really.”

He smirked, his earlier teasing replaced by something gentler. “Just don’t make it a habit to call me when you’re drunk, okay?”

You nodded, still feeling the embarrassment creep into your cheeks. “Okay. But if I do, just know I really mean it about being Mrs. Todoroki.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t hide the smile creeping onto his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get you some food first.”

[itsgrimeytime]

I Told You Now || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

Part 2

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: I've Told You Now by Sam Smith or "But what the hell, why do you think I come 'round here on my free will? Wasting all my precious time... Oh, the truth spills out and oh I...I've told you now."

Summary: You were in love with Rick, not that he knew. You weren't sure you were ever going to tell him. What could you say, you loved the kids and didn't want to lose them too. It was too risky. But finding out he was chasing after some married woman was just the last straw.

TWs: angst, jealousy, yelling, anger, crying, cursing, mention of fainting, not really unrequited love (you just don't know that yet) and vague references to infidelity (Jessie to her husband).

[[A/N: This song came up on my old playlist, and let me tell ya... I had some thoughts. This might be a two-parter, we shall see. Enjoy <3]]

"Hey, Mags," you hummed -Judith bouncing on your hip, "-where's Rick? I've been trying to find him all da-"

Maggie froze for a second, and you stilled -tightening your grip on Judith. Was there danger? Was everything okay? Your eyes swung around to see if there was anything unusual, anything dangerous-

Your eyes caught on something.

It was Rick, wearing his constable uniform (which you blindly noted suited him really well), and talking to a woman. You knew her name, Jessie, he'd talked about her before -said her husband was a real piece of shit. Everyone within Alexandria apparently knew that, but Rick was the only one to do anything about it.

At the time, you thought it was heroic of him, something Rick would do.

But now...

Your eyes skimmed across his face, across the intent of his blue eyes. There was something there, something you knew. You're not sure if it's the way he stood, or the smooth smile slipped onto his lips, or the way he looked down when he laughed at her -whatever she said, but-

"Why don't you just come inside?"

You barely heard it, something in your chest sinking -heavy. Your heart was pounding in your chest, it felt like every breath took everything out of your lungs, like your whole world was teetering on an edge. And Rick Grimes held it in his hands.

And he was... he was throwing it around, he wasn't even careful-

"Y/N," she continued, and you could hear her but there was something in you that couldn't move.

How long had this been happening? A married woman, really?

You knew her husband was terrible, scum of the Earth-

"Y/N," she warned, gently.

But her?

Why hadn't he ever told you? Why did you ever think that it was different now?

What were you to him? Just a goddamn babysitter?

The hope that had gathered up in your chest was snuffed out, just like the crumbling of your heart. You'd always knew it would come to this, you just weren't ready.

"Y/N," she stressed -trying to gain your focus, "-come on-"

Something in your stomach twisted, sour.

Tossing like a tide, you swayed in place. Your head was getting fuzzy and your eyes were bleary. Your ears felt like they were stuffed, all the voices so far away-

You took a languid blink.

With a breath, you pushed Judith into Maggie's arms -ensuring her safety. And with that, your knees buckled underneath you.

You fell to the ground.

You remember hearing Maggie scream, hearing the rush of footsteps -slapping along the ground. You remember hearing him then too, but something in you soured -you tried so hard to block it out. Ignore it.

"What the hell happened?"

It made your head pound again, made your brain swim. You squeezed your eyes closed like it would bring you some relief, anything-

"Y/N?" A voice offered, you recognized it to be Maggie's, "-are you awake?"

You shifted ever so slightly, eyes blinking open. The first thing you noticed was the bandage along your head, had you hit your head? Your fingers shifted to touch it-

Maggie grabbed your wrist, stopping the motion, "That'll hurt. You hit your head when you... Doctor says it might give you some headaches for a while."

You realized then, you were in a bed -distinctly not yours. You knew the woody smell anywhere, your eyes darted along the nightstands, almost to confirm -an old picture of him, Lori, and Carl. Something in you winced, and not because of your head.

"Told 'im to give us a minute," she revealed, "-I said you'd want to be in your own house, but he insisted."

The apology went unsaid.

"'S okay," you slurred a little, you weren't sure if it was from the pain or the sleep, "-not your fault, Maggie."

"Still," she echoed -something in her protective, "-I won't leave 'im alone with you, I promise."

You laughed a little, "Grimes is gonna do it anyway, we both know that. Hell, maybe I'll finally tell him."

"Because of..."

It again went unsaid, you weren't sure you could say it out loud either.

"How-" you cleared your throat, "-Do you know how long...?"

Maggie sighed -picking at the white comforter, "A few weeks at most, me and Glenn only caught onto it that long. But I don't... I don't know."

"How can I be so pissed-" you cried -tears burning the backs of your eyes, "-I don't deserve to be pissed. How would he even know?"

"Y/N, you can be pissed," she interrupted, wrapped your hands into hers, "-It's not just you. Everyone thought- You aren't delusional. He was... There was something."

"Apparently not," you retorted -bluntly.

"Don't," she frowned, getting something to wipe at your eyes, "-Don't do that to yourself, you couldn't have known better."

"I should've known better," you echoed out -sniffling, "-I'm so stupid. I told myself to n-"

The door swung open.

Rick stood there -less composed than you saw him before. You inwardly flinched at the notion of... before. His hair was a bit unruly like he'd been running his hands through it -he did that when he was worried. You knew that. His jacket (constable jacket) was tossed off, a frown creased on his lips and worry on his brow. He looked at you -unflinchingly.

"I thought I 'eard ya cryin'," he spoke, seemingly to confirm to himself, "-does it hurt? Do I need to go get some medicine? Doc said-"

"No," you interrupted -plainly, wiping at your eyes, "-I'm fine, Rick. Actually-"

You pulled yourself out from under the comforter, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. It felt like you were suffocating in here -all you could smell was him, all you could see was him, all you could feel was him. It wasn't fair.

You needed some air, like now.

"-I'm gonna go home," you finished, looking to Maggie to help you get onto your feet (you were still a little dizzy).

"You can't-" he seemed to respond, in disbelief, "-You ain't supposed to be alone, right now. Doc said-"

"I'll go to Maggie's then," you offered -grabbing your shoes which were placed neatly by the bed. Something in you stung that he had thought to do that for you.

"Why?" He asked -genuine.

You wordlessly walked through the door past him -Maggie trailing you. You padded down the hallway, cursing the familiar walls -the baby toys scattered in the corner, the picture frames hung up on the wall, and the little trinkets from his time on the road.

"You'll tell me if the kids need me, yeah?" You spoke, finally -hand turning the doorknob.

"Will ya just talk to me?"

You stuttered in your step, you could feel Maggie behind you. Your heart twisting in your chest, you just wanted to go. But something in you stopped; god, you loved him so much. It wasn't fair.

"Fine," you answered -clipped, "-Maggie, give us a minute? I'll be over in a few."

She looked at you a moment, trying to see if she should leave maybe. Eyes darting over your face, reading your eyes -she seemed to be satisfied, "Okay."

You spun to Rick, taking a deep breath in through your nose.

"What do you want to talk about, Rick?"

He laughed -in disbelief, you could tell, "What do I wanna talk 'bout? Seriously? Like you don't know?"

You stared at him -wordlessly.

"Y/N," he started -stepping toward you, you almost immediately stepped back and he noticed, "-you fuckin' fainted, you're hurt. We don't even know why and now-"

"I know why," you interrupted.

He seemed to look at you in curiosity, "Why?"

"Haven't been eating," you lied with the ease of the wind.

He seemed to process that a second -concern flitting through his face before settling somewhere else, "'At's bullshit."

"How do you know-"

"You ate dinner at mine last night," he explained, "-an' ya cleaned your plate."

Shit.

"Look Rick," you mended, "-I really don't want to talk about it."

"Why?" He offered, and he stepped forward -you stepped back, "-and now you're... you're avoidin' me? What the hell happened? You were fine, yesterday-"

"Can we not get into this right now?" You interrupted again, "-My head hurts like hell, and I just want to go and rest, like I imagine I was told to do."

Rick leveled a look at you, "Why not 'ere? Why Maggie's? You're always 'round 'ere anyway-"

It slipped out before you could think about it -venomous, "And why do you think that is?"

He stuttered to a stop, "What?"

Regret spilled into your stomach, "Rick, let's not get into this. Seriously. I'm tired-"

"No, no," he echoed, "-you brought it up. What do ya mean? What are you talkin' 'bout?"

"I can't," you swallowed, tears burning the backs of your eyes, "-Rick, not now, okay?"

He looked at you surfing over your eyes, insistent, "Why are you 'round 'ere so often?"

"Rick-"

"I thought it was 'cause ya loved the kids," he listed, "-or 'cause we were friends. But you... 'Ere's another reason."

"Rick, I don't want to."

"Want to what?" He asked, something in his voice teetering, "-Tell me? Talk to me? We used to know everythin' 'bout each other, and now you're sayin'-"

Something in you snapped. You don't know if it was his tone, or the words, or the implication that you had been lying to him while he was so truthful to you-

"God, Rick," you nearly shouted, "-I'm in fucking love with you!"

Rick froze -unmoving. You couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

"Are you happy now?"

He didn't say a word.

"So, yeah. I have been lying to you," you hissed, "-if you wanted to put it that way. If you wanted to say that I'm an asshole for protecting myself, then yeah, I am."

Rick was much different in his stance now -gentle like you'd run at his first motion toward you, eyes flickering between so many things, "Y/N..."

"No," you spoke -steely, "-I'm not. We're not doing this. I already know..."

Your words trailed off, and you swallowed -pushing down the tears. You weren't going to cry now.

"I saw you with Jessie, okay?" you explained -something in your voice softer, fragile, hurt, "-So I know. It's why I fainted. I just... I wasn't expecting it."

"Y/N, I never-"

"Seriously, Rick," you nearly begged -your voice cracking, "-I know. You don't need to drag this out longer. Did you not hear me the first time?"

His mouth snapped shut, even though he looked like he had a lot to say. Words urging to be uttered from his lips. But he didn't say anything, maybe out of respect to you. You were grateful.

"I'll be back by later to see the kids," you echoed out -something in your voice hollow.

"Will ya just let me-"

"Just let me know when Judith's up, okay?" You interrupted, deflecting, "-I said I'd watch her today."

And with a final look (maybe your last ever full look at him), you walked out the door.

[mcverse]

ꨄ︎ Paring: AVATAR/ATWOW x CRUSH!! Fem! Reader

ꨄ︎ Requested: Yes/No

ꨄ︎ Type: Headcanon with scenarios

ꨄ︎ Warnings: Nudity, swears, slight mentions of sexual activity, fluff

ꨄ︎ Side note: Jake & Tonowari are before wives/ex lovers, not after. Tsu’tey is after his ex lover. They are all still of appropriate age. Y’all I forgot spider, I should probably add him at some point now that he grew on me. Inspired skinny dip scenarios from here.

please keep in mind that all characters in my stories are always 18+

— JAKE

Sure Jake was being trained by Neytiri the way of Navi but after the end of every session he would come find you.

You knew Jake before he got his Avatar body, and you assumed him being so comfortable around you was the reason he always sought you out—and not because he returned your affection.

So imagine your surprise when your standing by the edge of the water, in the middle of taking off your shirt but pause because Jake’s back flexing with water droplets were far too distracting.

“Are you feeling shy now?” Jake muses, turning around to look at you with his big yellow eyes. They squint slight as he smiles, showing on his shape teeth.

You scoff with a roll of your eyes, continuing to take off your top to hide your flushed cheeks, “Why should I be? It’s you.”

Jake laughs, the sound of ripples in the water draws your attention back to him, only to quickly dart them away when he walks out the water, bare naked.

Jake has always been a confident, cocky guy. Just because he had a new body didn’t change that. If anything, it made it worst when it came to you.

You look so small standing there like a deer caught in headlights. How could he not tease you? You made it too easy. It was cute—you are so freaking cute.

“Exactly, it’s just me.” Jake squats down, covering his junk as he playfully coos, “The water will be cold by nightfall if you don’t hurry.”

You purse your lips, dropping your shirt and pull both your bottoms down in one fluid motion, ignoring the thumping of Jake’s tail hitting the ground repeatedly.

Inhaling sharply, you finally turn to look him in his eyes, surprised to see him already looking at your face. His lips curl more now that your attentions on him, “Loser last in the water has to break it to Grace that she’s worst than a helicopter parent.”

Your breath hitch when you see him stand up quickly, ass on display as he runs back to the river. Getting over it, you shout after him, “HEY! You’re cheating.”

— TONOWARI

It was not a complete accident that he stumbled on you in the water on night, far from seeing eyes. He definitely wasn’t already looking for you, no no.

He was going to make his presence known, maybe ask why you were so far away, when he glimpse of your bare chest and he finally understood.

This was clearly a private moment, he conducted, as he turns to leave despite his mind tell him to invade it anyway.

“Tonowari?” your faint voice calls his name, most likely caught him as he pauses, thinking of ways to prove his innocence if need be, “It is you!” you laugh, drawing a blue blush to his face.

You sounded so adorable.

He stands still with his back turned to you, deciding to remain respectful, “I didn’t mean to interrupting your alone time. I was just walking by.” It was obviously a lie because there was no just walking by this far from the village.

You hum, smiling with a tilt of your head, “Do you want to join? I don’t mind your company.”

Your company. Your. You said your, not any company or just company. You singled him out.

Now Tonowari was a patient man, he was going to be chief soon so he had to be. But with you, patience didn’t fly completely ti the wind, it was just sat aside.

He’s turning around against his better judgement, about to join you in the water but you stop him.

“I’m naked.” you blurt out frankly.

Tonowari’s eyes zone in on your form. He already knows that. But hearing you say it makes his chest hurt and his ears hot, “Oh..”

Be respectful Tonowari, look away, be calm.

“There’s a fee to join me,” you muse, “You have to be too.”

You’re the death of him. He swears it as he tensely removes his gear, the lioncloth being the last piece he drops aside.

His eyes are back on you as yours is on him as he walks into the water and swim to you. He didn’t mean to get so close, your skin brushing against his, but he’s not complaining when you complete close the space.

— TSU’TEY

Tsu’tey is a respectable, responsible man. He doesn’t do foolish things. He had a reputation to uphold.

Yet somehow you convince him time and time again to let loose, have some fun moments and risky decisions.

Somehow, someway, your reason have reached the ears of him and he’s agreeing again to one of your ridiculous ideas.

Skinny dipping? What even if that? Must be something JakeSully told you.

“You hang around JakeSully too much.” he’ll tell you in between listening to you explain how you came to know it. You roll your eyes, getting to the good part on what it actually was.

His mouth is agape, ears perked up in attention. That’s what Skinny dipping was? And you wanted to try it with him out of any other man in the village? Perhaps he should be thanking JakeSully for giving you this information. He doesn’t.

Instead, he follows you to a deep river, watch as you peel back all your clothing and step into the water.

You look so stunning, literally take his breath away. And when you look back at him so mischievously, telling him to hurry up and join—there was no hesitation found as he removed his clothing and met you in the middle of the river.

— NETEYAM

What started out just fishing in silence beside one another, as one does around their secret crushes, turns into a little challenge of who can catch fish the best using their technique. The loser gets to do whatever the winner wants.

Neteyam was confident, thinking this might be his chance to prove himself a worthy mate and confess all at the same time.

He loses though. He wasn’t focused. He couldn’t focus, not with all your teasing jabs, infectious laughter and star stealing smile.

He’s not mad, though, at least it was to you. There was no way you’d ask him to do something terrible—spoke to soon. Did you just dare him to skinny dip? Did he hear that right?

“Are you scared, ‘yam?” you taunt him over your shoulder as you walk future away, somewhere secluded in case he does decide to do it.

Unsurprisingly, he’s following you like a moth to flame, eyes trained on your figure when you disappear behind some foliage. With his heart beating loudly against his chest in both nerves and curiosity, he hurries after you and sigh in relief when your still there, but close to a body of water he’s never seen before.

You know you dared him. But only because it’s something you’ve been wanting to do for a while. The water looked so tempting, if he didn’t go through with it, you just might.

Looking over your shoulder at him, you lock eyes, “I know I dared you but I kinda feel like going for a dip too.” you admit, turning back around to slowly strip out of your clothing.

You assume Neteyam is just standing there like a lost boy when your final article of clothing falls but is surprised to see an outstretched hand in your peripheral view.

“You’re gorgeous.” he admits bashfully when you touch his hand, face hidden behind a few strands of falling braids, “Thank you.”

“For what?” you ask, confused as you stare at him, only to be the flustered one now.

“For trusting me.”

How does he always make something so wholesome???

— LO’AK

Lo’ak wasn’t sneaky. He couldn’t get away with anything if he tried. So you immediately knew he had a crush on you, it was so painfully obvious. And it was painfully cute.

You were just hanging out one day, a little time after the eclipse has started. Simply talking about anything under the pandora sky when a specific topic was brought up: dares you did or declined.

One dare was how you declined to skinny dip because you were way too nervous at the time but regret it because it sounded so thrilling now that your older.

Bro doesn’t miss a beat. Lo’ak is asking if you wanted to Skinny dip right now. There was no one around—he knew a place, you trust him enough. Why not?

He’s right. What’s stopping you at this point? Not a damn thing.

At first, his intentions were entirely pure. It sounded fun. He’s never done it before, it’ll be cool to do it together. One of the many first with you if he actually confesses.

Then your clothes start to come off, leaving you more exposed than he dared to dream. The water glistening your skin, white freckles glowing in the dark. Damn you were beautiful—

“Thank you.” you smile, watching him as he watches you. He hasn’t even taken off his clothes yet, so lost in everything that is you. The shock on his face was hilarious when he realizes his mistake.

With his face flushed purple, he quickly averts his eyes, “I said that out loud?” He murmurs, mainly to himself in confusion but you heard him loud and clear. It was just you two, after all.

“You did,” you turn away, walking deeper into water, “I think you’re beautiful too. Even with all your clothes still on.” you tell him teasingly, laughing to yourself when you hear splashing water behind you.

He will not fumble this!

— KIRI

Your brother called her a freak but you thought of being the most interesting person to come to this village.

She was different in every way—she looks different from the rest of her family just by little, she acts different when nature is involved, and she sounds different every time you hear her speak.

She changed the way you think, the way you see your world. Does she know that you want her in it?

You weren’t sure and it was all you could think about when you walk with her through the trees, just enjoying what Eywa has blessed you with when you come across a body of water.

Watching as she goes near it, you were going to suggest going back, but then she accident fell in. When she resurface, your shocked to find her chest bare, her too somewhere in the water.

Kiri quickly covers herself, cheeks turning blue out of embarrassment, and though it was cute and she looks attractive right now, you felt bad.

Before you mind can tell you how bad an idea this was, you removed your top, smiling at her, “There’s no reason to feel embarrassed,” you tell her, slipping into the water beside her, “We’re both woman.”

She hesitates, eventually dropping her arms and look away, trying to distract herself with something else.

You shouldn’t watch her as intensely as you did but she was beautiful, you wonder if she knew that, “I think you’re very beautiful…Kiri.”

She looks back at you, smiling shyly as she lowers her eyes too, “I think you’re beautiful too…” she returns softly.

Nope. She was too cute. Before she saw it coming, your tackling her in the water, screeching how adorable she is.

— AO’NONG

Both of you were still young adults, and not looking to court anyone yet but at the same time—there was this interesting dynamic of teasing, heartfelt moments and occasionally sexual tension.

You not being one to talk about your feelings, are quite a trouble maker. Anything under the watchful eyes of Ewya was fair game to help you avoid it.

Ao’nong just happened to be around after one stressful day; just lucky enough to tag along when you venture further from the village.

“Where are we going?” he ask, watching your back flex as you move, occasionally shifting to the surrounding area to keep watch.

“You didn’t have to come.” you snap, peeking over your shoulder with a glare. Ao’nung simply shrug his shoulders, a small smile etching his face and remains silent.

He was confused why you’d stop at a body of water so far from the village when it was surrounded by it. He was going to question your motive again, but then you start taking your clothes off and his breath away.

It was too late to look away. He saw everything before you walk into the water, leaving him standing there unsure of what to do for once in his life.

You notice this, of course, smirking at him from the water. It’s a rare sight to see Ao’nung flushed. What kind of idiot would you be not to exploit it.

“Ma Ao’nung. What’s the matter? Something caught your tongue?” you’ll tease him, leaning back in the water to swim backwards, giving him an eyeful of your chest.

Ao’nung’s brows are furrowed at your teasing, trying to come up with something—anything—to say but finds nothing but a dry mouth.

You’re giggling, swimming back over to him because you felt bad. With a beaming smile, you reach out to him, full body on display, “Sorry. Come swim with me.”

He did a lot more than just swim with you after he got over the shock. You don’t get to just tease him so causally.

— TSIREYA

Two friends skinny dipping, nothing wrong with that.

Expect there was cause you were totally crushing hard on Tsireya. And maybe she felt the same, it was kinda hard to tell with her.

You don’t know why you brought it up—maybe because you knew her tail would cutely flicker in excitement yet her words the polar opposite.

For someone who was afraid of what ifs, she sure crumbled pretty easy after a little persuasion.

When you get to a secluded area you came across one day, she’s having doubt again. You don’t try to change her mind this time, already filled with adrenaline at the thought and just strip your clothes.

Now she can’t exactly leave you by yourself, or so she claims, and that it might be more comfortable for you, not her, to be naked too.

“You are trouble, (Name).” Tsireya giggles, wading through the water to reach you. The depth gets deeper as she does, that now the only way was to swim.

Smirking, you reach out to her, holding her arm close to your chest, “It’s so exciting right?” you ask curtly before adding, “but there is absolutely no chance of getting caught!” when you catch her pointed look.

“So we’re here alone, by ourselves?” Tsireya ask the fifth time that night, surveying for good measures.

Rolling your eyes, “For the last time. No one is coming!” Honestly she’s lucky she’s cute with her doubtful ass.

She’s looking back at you with a cheeky grin, “Good.” and tackles you into the water.

Safe to say, you now knew she really liked you by the end of the night.

— ROTXO

You woke baby out of his sleep.

It was a stir of the moment type of adventure and if you didn’t do it now, who knows when you will.

He was confused at first, not understanding what you were coming off about when you lead him further from the mauri’s.

Given if this was anyone else, he’d be agitated, rejecting whatever it was at first sight. But it was you, he’ll follow you through storms if the choice was an option.

It’s only when you let go of his hand, running to a body of water and stripping out of your clothes did everything start become clearer.

Man was alert, standing stiff where you left him. Glancing around to make sure no one was around for your sake and his, if you know what I mean.

“Rotxo, what are you doing just standing there,” your laughing at him from the sea, “Did you forget already!?”

No, he doesn’t even remember you getting naked in front of him being a possibility outside of his thoughts. He would remember if something said lead to this. Yet it has as you continue to claim.

“Don’t leave me by myself!” you whine, splashing water in his direction.

Like he would ever dare. The guy was crushing hard, spending any second with you—near you is what he dreams. Literally anytime with you was a blissful moment.

Saying those words cause him to pause. It was clear that you want him, well, want him there next to you. And he could never say no to you.

He’s awkward as he strips out his gear and loincloth, definitely the most embarrassed out of all of them.

He’s quick to enter the water, hoping it would cool him down but his temperature only rises when you swim closer, practically chest to chest with him.

“I feel much better now that your here. Don’t you?” you tease, peering up at him as you place a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“Yeah.” he replies breathlessly, unable to look away from your face, in fear that he might drown himself.

You drag your arm down his arm sensually, “It’s okay to look, Ro…”

It was embarrassing having you have to hold him up, for more reason than one but the main being because he really did almost drown that night.

[applbottmjeens]

PREDECESSOR AND PROGENY

tags: mentions of domestic violence, implied abuse, divorced Phillip Graves bc that is a man who has 100% been married before, age gap mention, power dynamic mention, Jack Graves mention, I DO NOT WRITE GRAVES AS A GOOD MAN.

summary: The woman once known as Irene Graves tries to save a girl from a similar fate.

She heard about her only in passing and in fits of frustration. He never called her by name. Just his “bitch of an ex wife” or “the ex”, dehumanizing her and demonizing the mother of his only son.

She's met his son. The closeness in age was enough to shake them. His name was Jack, and he was a splitting image of his dad- with a kindness in his eyes that was missing from it's father.

She recalls meeting Jack being looked upon with a mix of concern, pity, and horror behind a veneer of southern politeness Annie couldn't penetrate.

It isn't until she meets Irene, really meets her, that Annie understands Jack- he has Phillip's face. He has his mind. But that heart, that humanity…

Its all Irene Williams.

Strawberry blonde with red lips and a pair of baby blues that saw right through her. This woman was elegant. Beautiful. Nothing like the vindictive witch Phillip made her to be.

She sits across from her at this Cafe, assuring Anna that “he doesn't know this place. And if he did, he wouldn't think of showing up.” To reassure her. She knows Anna is at an edge. Scared.

Across from her, Irene assesses the fly caught in Phillip's web. She's young. And yet she already looks like he's put her through the fucking wringer. God this man had a talent. She thinks sarcastically, the hunched over young woman sheepishly drinking her tea.

Phillip always did like his share of pretty, tan brunettes. He'd cheated on her with one when they were still in highschool- but she'd forgiven him easily back then- After all, she wasn't being too loyal either.

“...I'm glad you finally decided to answer my emails, Miss Pham.” Irene speaks. “Can I call you Anna?” The girl nods.

Anna finally meets her eyes. Such sad, brown little eyes. “...He always told me to-”

“Ignore them.” They say at the same time.

“Ignore them?- That what I was saying was a bunch of horseshit? Yeah. I figured.” Irene shakes her head. Phillip Graves was still so predictable to her.

She laughs. Anna’s guard is still up. But of course. Irene was always the bad guy in Phillip’s stories.

“How long have you and Phillip been…together?” Irene asks.

Annie pauses. “Officially?...About…Two years.”

“Marriage?” Irene interrogates the girl. She knows she's coming off a bit strong- but from what she's heard of that girl? She should be biting back.

“He…Implies it.” Anna says meekly, almost shy, embarrassed.

“Any babies in the picture?”

“...I have a son.”

“His?” Irene raises a brow, sighing when the younger woman shakes her head no.

“I'm guessing Phillip's sinking his teeth into that one.” Her green eyes glance down at her cup. “I'm not proud to say I deprived that man of fatherhood. I wouldn't let him see Jack till he was around fifteen. Didn't want him ruining my boy.” Irene shifts in her chair. “I suppose Phillip is doing some…compensating on his part for yours.”

She thinks about when Jack told her about his encounter with Phillip's new squeeze when he came to visit once last year- the girl was mortified upon meeting him, but so sweet and bubbly nonetheless.

“I don't think she knew I existed ‘til we met that day.” Jack admitted to his mother over the phone. He recalled seeing his father a bit anxious as Anna told him, “Phillip never mentioned a son to me.” With a strained smile.

She'd never have dated him if she knew he had a kid her age for sure.

Irene was admittedly, a bit miffed realizing Phillip had roped someone else into his bullshit- learning she's young. She's pretty. Not surprised she's military either.

And to meet her and see the damage done is, pitying.

“...What's your son's name?” Irene asks, and Annie takes her phone to show a little baby with the most furrowed brow in irritation she's ever seen- but cute. Undeniably so.

“His name is Sylas Thomas- But…I just call him Tommy.” She says quietly.

“His father is…?”

“...Not in the picture” Annie admits, looking sad. “He…got deported the day I found out I was pregnant. I…I don’t know why he won’t talk to me.”

“...Sad coincidence.” Irene mumbles. Maybe not so much of a coincidence- but it would hurt to kick her while she's still down. It would be just like Phillip to deport her man… And threaten him into no contact. He was fiercely protective of what he thought was his.

“When I found out I was pregnant with Jack, I was already finishing the divorce proceedings.” Irene explains. She had a solid case for primary custody- bruises. Settled out of court, without any charges and he fucked off once he realized she'd won.

“I'm not going to tell you what to do, Anna.” Irene speaks low. “...But I'm sure you've heard your fair share of warnings. And this is me, someone who's been in your shoes, warning you to run before you end up carryin’ his baby too.”

But the girl only wilts like a flower deprived of water.

“I can't go.” Anna sighs. “He's all I have now.”

“He will take more if you keep letting him take at all.” Irene insisted. “...I'm sure you think he loves you. I'm sure he thinks he does too…” Irene's eyes close as she remembers their old life. Church on Sundays. Dancing in the kitchen. Calling when he could. “...Don't let him make you a victim, Anna. Don't make him the one that'll save you- because he won't be.”

Irene gives her her number. She registers it under “Salon” in case Phillip peeks through her contacts again. He’d begun doing that lately.

Irene leaves that Cafe hoping she got through to her somehow. That even if she stays, she won't let that bastard step on her.

Phillip Graves was a wound on women. He couldn't help but forget they're people, not toys. It was in his nature to conquer.

And that girl was finding out the hard way.

“Bless your heart, Annabelle Pham.” Irene murmurs as she gets in the back of her chauffered car.

[mertronus]

Tricks and Stones

Read it on AO3 or keep reading below

Hermione stood at the opening of the tent and stretched. She had been inside reading all morning and needed to move around a bit. She was feeling stagnant and restless.

She smiled at Harry who was lost in thought, and considered sitting beside him to check in but noticed the locket dangling around his neck.

No, she thought, better to leave him be for now.

So instead she set off to see where Ron had gone. They were situated on some rocks near the edge of a lake. Hermione hoped that they could procure a couple of fish later for dinner.

A flash of red hair near the lake's edge caught her attention and she quickly navigated down the slippery rocks to get to Ron's side. It had been a rough few days with Ron, filled with rows and grumbling. She missed her Ron.

Maybe since he's not wearing the locket, we can have a good moment.

Hermione reached Ron's side just as he swung his arm back and whipped a stone into the quiet surface of the water. It skipped four times before it sank into the water. She smiled at the memories the scene garnered.

“Wow,” Hermione said. “Good one.”

Ron looked over at her and gave her his signature lopsided grin. That grin always seemed to send butterflies swirling around her belly.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice a bit gruff. Hermione figured he hadn’t used it in a while.

He picked up another flat stone and sent it into the lake—it skipped the water three times. Hermione pulled her eyes away from him and faced the water, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Yes, stepping out of the tent was a wonderful idea.

“Y’alright?” Ron asked.

Hermione nodded then opened her eyes to look back at Ron. “Yeah. I just…I got tired of reading.” She ignored his exaggerated look of surprise but the corner of her lip twitched as she fought a smile and continued. “I just needed to get up and move.”

Ron looked her up and down, an unreadable expression on his face. “Yeah…I get that.” He stooped, found another stone, swung his arm back, and let it fly across the water. This one skipped the water five times before it disappeared.

“You’re really good at that,” Hermione mused. She eyed a flat stone a few inches in front of her feet and her fingers twitched.

“Want to learn?”

“I—” Hermione stopped herself and a new thought formed in her mind. She smiled and nodded. “Sure. Show me how.”

Ron stooped and grabbed the very stone Hermione had been eyeing. “The trick is to find a nice flat one.” He held up the stone so Hermione could see and she stifled her smile. “Not too flat, mind, but definitely not round. And smooth too.” He took her hand and placed the stone in hers, his fingers lingering for a moment. Hermione looked up and her eyes caught on his, which were bright blue in the afternoon sun.

“Alright,” she forced herself to say.

“Um…” Ron broke eye contact and scanned the ground, finding a stone of his own. “Now…you don’t want to just throw it into the water, you want to flick it so it will bounce across the surface.” Ron demonstrated and they watched his stone hit the water one, two, three times.

“Alright, then,” Hermione said. She rolled her shoulders back, took a similar stance to Ron, and flung her stone into the water. It went straight in with a neat kerplunk.

Ron chuckled. “Needs some work.”

Hermione huffed. She reached down for a new stone. “This one flat enough?”

Ron surveyed it and then looked around their feet. “Here,” he bent and picked up a new stone. “Try this one better.”

Once in her fingers, Hermione swung her arm back in a fair imitation of Ron and threw the stone right into the water. She stomped her foot and pouted, feeling like a petulant child. Ron simply laughed and shook his head.

“Look, try this,” he grabbed a new rock and stood beside her. “When you find your rock, get kind of low and tilted.” She imitated his stance and tried not to feel silly. “Good. And when you throw, don’t just throw it like you’re tossing a quaffle. Toss is sort of sideways and flick your wrist a bit. Swish and flick.”

Hermione stood straight up and scowled at him. “Oh, haha, very funny.”

Ron laughed. “Sorry, couldn’t help it. But no, it’s true, it’s all in the flick of the wrist.”

“Alright,” Hermione toyed with the stone in her hand as she once again copied Ron’s stance. “Like this?” She pulled her arm back and attempted to flick her wrist, but the stone simply dropped into the water.

Ron laughed. “No,” he said shaking his head. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Um…” He glanced around. “Let’s try this.” He picked up a new stone and got behind Hermione. He put one hand on her waist and the other hand on hers after he’d handed her the new rock. Hermione had to fight not to close her eyes at the feeling of his warm fingers on her, burning through the fabric of her shirt. Her heart was racing and with his chest against her back, she wondered if he couldn’t feel it. She took a steadying breath, but it didn’t help. His scent was wrapping around her like the very best drug. All she had to do was close her eyes and lean back into him, lean back into the high-

“Y’okay?”

His warm breath on her ear made her jump slightly.

“Yeah,” she squeaked. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She almost turned to face him but she realized that if she did, they would be mere millimeters apart. She wondered for just a moment if he would—

No. No, of course not.

“Alright now bring your arm back but keep it low,” Ron instructed, moving his arm with hers. She tried so hard not to focus on the low, grumbly timber of his voice—and the way it made her body feel. “And when you throw, put most of the movement into the wrist.”

They tried like that a few times with no results. When Ron released her, she fought the urge to shudder from the sudden chill. She missed his warmth.

When she tried on her own, without the distraction of her personal Ronald Weasley blanket, the stone skipped once and then sunk.

“Yes!” Ron cheered. “There you go! I knew you could do it!”

Hermione grinned at his praise.

“Let’s go for two, yeah?”

“Maybe three?” Hermione offered.

Ron shook his head with a laugh. “Don’t push your luck.”

After a few more tries, Hermione’s stone skipped across the water twice and they both erupted in cheers. Ron wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet in a hug, swinging her around once in celebration.

When he placed her down, she looked up at him wide-eyed. He cleared his throat and took a step back. “Knew you had it in you,” he smiled. She smiled back. After a moment, both of their smiles faded in the awkward silence.

Ron glanced at his watch and then back to the tent. “I uh…I should probably go and relieve Harry,” he mumbled. Hermione nodded and sighed as he turned to walk away. Relieving Harry from watch also meant relieving Harry of the locket. She knew her short glimpse of the Ron she knew and loved was gone for the day.

It was fun while it lasted, she thought as he disappeared over the rocks. Hermione turned back to the water and lost herself in thought for a moment. She glanced back to be sure Ron had cleared the rocks and was out of sight. Then, she picked up a flat pebble, toyed with it in her hand for a moment, and swung her arm back sending it flying across the water with a perfect flick.

It skipped the surface of the water five times and then sank. Hermione smiled, thoughts of skipping stones with her dad now intermingled with the fresh thoughts of Ron.

[x-aefx]

Back to you - Ellie Williams

Pairing: Ellie Williams x female reader

Modern au!

Summary: college!ellie au. Having once been close friends, Ellie and you begin to talk again while new feelings bloom and old ones return.

Part one

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Fuck!” You whisper yelled as you stared at your clock on your messy desk, internally wishing the hour would go back two hours so you wouldn’t be late for your first class since spring break.

Throwing an envious glance at your roommate, Lily, who didn’t have class until the afternoon, you climbed out of bed still half asleep. Walking to your dresser you pulled out the first thing your cold hands touched, your ‘Queen’ band t-shirt and black cuffed jeans. Brushing your hair quickly and spraying perfume you had no memory of buying, you awkwardly put on your shoes whilst trying to maintain balance in your standing position. Turning to your desk you grabbed the textbooks stacked on top of each other and your bag that was on the ground. You stole a quick glance in the mirror and said a mental ‘thank goodness’ for your somewhat decent appearance.

Grabbing the tin of mints on the edge of the desk you made your way out of the dorm and across the campus to your class.

Any other day and you would’ve taken your time seeing as you were already going to be late, but you wanted to get a good seat in class. Sure there was technically nothing stopping you from taking somebody else’s seat tomorrow when you would hopefully arrive on time, but you didn’t want to be that person.

Trying to hide your disappointment and annoyance as you walked into the class seeing you were probably the last to arrive, you looked to where your usual seat at the back beside the classroom wall was, now occupied by a girl who had the brightest blue eyes and straightest hair you had ever seen sat laughing loudly to her friend who looked nearly the same.

‘my fault for being late’ you thought bitterly to yourself.

Your eyes scanned the classroom for an empty seat. Finding one in the middle row you made your way towards it. Dropping your books on the desk and your bag on the floor you sat down. Not a moment later you felt someone kicking the back of your chair.

“what the fuc-“

“language’”

“seriously Dina?”

“someone's in a mood”

“Shut it Jesse”

“Hey!”

“You’re going to the party this Friday aren’t you? The one for Stacey’s birthday?” Dina asked smiling enthusiastically, seemingly not paying attention to Jesse’s angry mumbling about how rude people were.

“I can’t promise anything Dina” you sighed. “I could really use some time for myself”

“You had plenty time for yourself over spring break!” Dina pointed out.

“Yeah and I miss it already”

Jesse snorted at the comment earning a hit to the arm from Dina.

“Ow! Christ woman I’m fragile!”

“Oh I know” Dina rolled her dark eyes, “what about you Ellie? Your going right?”

You turned to the side slightly surprised having not noticed Ellie sat beside you. Hair tied in a half up- half down style, the sleeve of her blue flannel rolled up her forearms revealing her tattoo, legs stretched out to their full length under the table, Ellie Williams screamed confidence. Her attention focused entirely on what she was drawing in her sketchbook, Ellie didn’t notice her friend mention her name.

You doubted she even noticed you sat beside her if it weren’t for Jesse nudging her arm with his leg causing her pen to trail a messy line on the page

“hey what the fuck!”

“language! Honestly you two have the most foul mouths” Dina’s eyes glanced in your direction before looking back at Ellie. That’s when Ellie’s green eyes met yours. It was a quick glance but it was enough for you to look into those familiar green eyes.

“what’s up” Ellie ignored Dina’s comment. She placed her pencil on her desk and turned her body to face Dina and Jesse who sat behind her.

“will you be at the party on Friday?” Dina wasted no time in asking her friend.

“Eh-well, I was just planning on staying in.” Ellie looked at Dina with a guilty smile.

“Ellie!” Dina pleaded pouting her lips to really persuade the girl.

“Dina-“

“it will be so much fun I promise! And Y/N is going and everything!”

“wait no-Dina I never actually-!”

“please Ellie! You’ll have a good night, I swear!” Dina made her best puppy dog eyes. Ellie found herself accepting the invitation before she could really comprehend what she was doing. She never fell for Dina’s pleading looks yet she said yes.

Dina made a triumphant noise, her smile wide as she thought about the upcoming party she and her closest friends will be attending. Jesse smiled at his girlfriend, shaking his head with a chuckle at her antics.

Turning back around in your chair you opened your textbook to the page written on the whiteboard by your professor who was only now arriving. You never had a hard time concentrating in class, yet today you did. You couldn’t make your eyes move from word to word instead staring blankly at the white page.

“Ethan hasn’t quit staring at you since you walked in. It’s quite annoying.” A voice muttered.

Your head snapped to the side making eye contact with Ellie. Her brows furrowed as if in deep thought.

If you looked over to the other side of the classroom you would of noticed the captain of the basketball team, Ethan Gilbert, making heart eyes at you. But you didn’t break the eye contact between you and Ellie.

You didn’t think she had noticed you. Sure you and Ellie were close once, at the very start of college. You considered her your best friend but you two became distant with each other over time for reasons you were unsure of. Ever since then you presumed Ellie Williams had erased you from her life, that was how it felt for you anyway. To hear her say something to you at all was a change after all this time.

“What can I say Williams? I’m a total catch.” You shrugged your shoulders sending her a wink.

Ellie only scoffed before turning back to her drawing, a beautiful farmhouse you recognized as her home from the picture you had seen in her dorm. You noticed her smiling but said nothing.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Rose Thorn Blues | pt. 2

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Part One Masterlist

Summary: Begrudgingly, you let Peter Parker help you with the story. Even if it leads you two going undercover as a couple...

Word count: ~4k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! Fake dating!! Banter. More Criminal activity. Swearing. A lil bit of tension.

A/n: Well, I thought I'd share this smaller part before I head on vacation. Sorry it's not longer, but I hope this holds over until I'm back home! Thank you for reading, and let me know your thoughts <3

“Should I be regretting this?” you asked, immediately shaking your head as Parker wheeled over to your side.

“Too late.” He grabbed your notebook from your hands, kicking his feet up on your desk as he began to read. His lips moved silently along with the words, each curved syllable whispering past his mouth. You looked away when his eyes flicked to yours, those lips tilting into a grin even as he continued reading.

His fingers flipped the worn page of your notes, leaving you to pick at the hem of your shirt while waiting for him to finish.

You pulled your legs closer to you, trying to focus on the material of your pants rather than the urge to draw yourself into your body. But your nerves flared at the edges of your senses, telling you made the wrong choice. And only once you were about to pretend to need coffee just to step away, Parker blew out a tight sigh.

He muttered out, “Christ…”

Swallowing down the jolt in your muscles at his words, you turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Is that good or bad?”

His hand scratched along his jaw, his gaze following the words before slowly rising to meet yours. “Uh, your research is… good. Really good. But this,” he said, gesturing to the notebook, “is pretty bad.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, that quiet doubt inside your mind growing ever so louder. Barely blinking, you stared off wondering where this could go. Where you could end up if you went through with it. Your attention only snapped back when Parker cleared his throat.

He watched you, your expressions, with no humor on his face as he whispered, “So, you really went to this warehouse… by yourself in the middle of the night?” His finger pointed at your notes that indeed held your observations from last night. Still, that didn’t stop you from trying to lie and come up with anything that wouldn’t incriminate you.

When you didn’t answer, instead glancing at your fingers intertwining, he scoffed. “You know you could’ve really gotten hurt going there alone. Or worse. I don’t think these guys play around.”

“I wasn’t alone. I talked with Spider-Man,” you said, as if that could convince Parker that your plan hadn’t been a bad idea. But he raised an eyebrow at you, a half-smile on his face.

“Yeah? Now you’re buddy-buddy with him too?” A ghost of a laugh escaped him, but his eyes hardened, not leaving you. “I’m serious, sunshine. Spidey’s not gonna be there to always save you. We gotta do this carefully.”

Choosing to ignore the unyielding tone his words were wrapped in, you grabbed your notebook back from him, your jaw set. “I know that, Parker. And I’m not exactly in harm’s way now that I don’t have any other leads. All he’s got is some BS fundraiser I can’t get into,” you said, sitting back in your chair. Silently, as you traced a finger down the writing you’d gone over dozens of times already, you grumbled under your breath about the rude receptionist you’d talked to about it.

“A fundraiser?” 

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The collar of his long-sleeve shirt swooped down an inch, drawing your eyes to the shadow of his chest before nodding. He then asked, “What could we find out from that anyway? Not like Beaumont is gonna be any more truthful with those rich people than he is with the general public.” 

He brought the end of a pen to his mouth, beginning to chew on it before you could realize he took it from your desk. You just pressed your lips together, letting it go as he thought out loud some more — now beginning to spin in his desk chair.

“He’s hiding plenty of secrets as is, I’m sure there’s gotta be some that we could uncover by getting close, right? Maybe we could-”

“Parker! Where are those pictures you promised me!”

Jameson’s voice boomed through the office, sending the both of you jumping in your seats. Parker cleared his throat and called back, “Emailing them to you now, sir.”

Beneath the sound of Parker’s squeaky desk chair rolling back to his side, you heard Jameson swear  under his breath. You didn’t dare peek over the half-wall and risk getting yelled at too. Instead, as frantic typing came from Parker’s keyboard, you wrote on a post-it note, “Able to stay late. We can talk about this piece. In peace. Haha…”

You folded it in half twice before tossing it over onto his side and returning to research — even as it felt useless to do so. A small twinge of hope trickled up your spine, so subtle you barely noticed it before it reached the base of your head. A hope that Parker said yes. 

As another site turned up blank, you told yourself asking him was just to move this story along, even if it meant spending the evening with the intern you always seemed to stand in the shadow of. But this story could bring you over the top and show Jameson you deserved that job.

A few minutes later, a flash of paper flew from Parker’s side and landed right on your eye.

“Shit…” you groaned out, lightly rubbing your eye and blinking it repeatedly — all while you heard suppressed laughter from the other desk. Quietly, you muttered, “Dick,” and opened up the note. The only thing added to it was a poorly drawn thumbs-up.

With that settled, along with the weird relief at his answer that you shoved lower and lower, you worked on some of your assigned stories. One blurred into the next, all of them superficial enough to turn your brain fuzzy over the course of the work day. You wondered what Alice was working on and if they ever made her feel like this.

By the time people began packing up for the day, long after your mediocre lunch from the closest food shop, your head nearly felt numb. At least this story could be the break you needed from all this — all the unimportant parts of reporting, like who broke up with who, and how Spider-Man is somehow the reason for it. Again.

You rubbed a tired hand down your face, letting the warm darkness of it swallow you for a moment. Your head shot up finally once a granola bar clattered across your desk.

Parker’s head then appeared from around the half-wall, the wave of his dark hair looking ran through. “I stole it earlier today, but I think you need it more than I do, sunshine,” he said, pointing to the bar with a tilt of his head.

Your stomach growled as you grabbed it, ripping it open. “That’s such a stupid nickname,” you muttered before taking a bite, looking up at him with a half-assed glare.

“It’s more creative than you calling me ‘Parker.’ That’s just my last name.” He laughed, his eyes lighting up.

Quirking your head, you blinked slowly at him. “If I’m sunshine, then you’re moonshine. Makes sense too, cause I need to be drunk to even tolerate you, Parker,” you grumbled, finishing off the granola bar.

And before he could open that stupid mouth of his, you threw away the wrapper and said, “I think Jameson’s gone if we want to start on the story. We-”

“Now?” Parker’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at you, his hand coming up to run down his neck. “Immediately vetoing. C’mon.”

Before you could ask any questions, he stood up and walked toward the doors, shouting over his shoulder, “Keep up!”

As much as your mind resisted listening to him, your eyes and legs definitely needed the break. So you followed after him, staring at his back as you made your way down the building’s steps.

Out on the sidewalk, the sun sat lower in the sky at this hour. Clouds scattered throughout kept the air from getting too hot, the feeling bringing a content smile to your face.

Blinking at him, you saw the way the sunlight showered down on Parker. The effortlessness of his hands sitting in his pockets and his hair laying perfectly messy — even his goddamn freckles glowing in the light — set a sparking anger in your chest. It only twisted, turned more sour, when he opened his mouth.

“You know… it’s not polite to stare at someone. Even if they are ruggishly handsome.”

A laughing scoff escaped your mouth, your eyes instead drifting across the crowd of people passing along the sidewalk. “I was just trying to figure out how your head fit such a little brain inside it. Does it just roll around like an acorn in there? Maybe a pea?”

Feeling the glare from his side-eye, you caught his growing half-smile. “Yeah? Could a pea-sized brain be smart enough to find us an actual dinner?”

“I mean… probably. But,” you said, tilting your head at him, “that’s not the worst plan you’ve had.” For emphasis, your stomach growled while you two walked down the street. And through grabbing carryout to eat back at the office, you made it a point to not stare at Parker — or do anything to give him a bigger ego than he already had. 

His often irritating words certainly made it easy enough, like now as he spoke in between bites of his food from the takeout box. “So, I’m thinking–”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

You let out a laugh as he flipped you off, the shaking in your shoulders helping lift a weight from them. At least it was easy to laugh with him — or at him.

With a pointed stare, he continued. “I’m thinking that we have to find the connection between Beaumont and spidey… man. Spider-Man. With that warehouse you nearly burgled.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him as he leaned against your desk. With your feet propped up next to where he sat, you ate your food from your desk chair. The office lay bare beside you two, your ID cards giving you access after hours. Unsurprisingly, the brainstorming hadn’t been terribly productive yet.

“I did not burgle anything… yet. But I haven’t seen anything between those two before. Maybe Beaumont’s just a big fan. He’s taking all our money just to grow his collection of supervillain memorabilia.”

Parker let out a quiet laugh. “Sounds like something Jameson would do.” 

You internally shivered at the idea of finding your boss’s secret stash of Spider-Man collectibles.

Silence slipped over the two of you, just the noises of eating and the building’s air conditioning as you both thought through the details. Eventually, he said, “So this Ellis Beaumont guy has to have some sort of conflict with Spider-Man, meaning we could research what crimes of Beaumont’s that Spider-Man has stopped.”

An unsure look overtook your face. “That’s way too many to look through — and it’s not like that information is recorded anywhere. This politician keeps things tightly under wraps…” you sighed, letting out a tired laugh that didn’t feel all that funny. “It feels like I’m right back where I started.”

“Could that fundraiser of his give us answers?” Parker asked, his eyes glancing at yours.

You hesitantly nodded as you swallowed your next bite. “Probably, since it’s at his house apparently. But without an invitation, we’re kind of shit out of luck.”

“So we get an invitation and do some snooping during the event. Easy enough.”

Parker had put his food down, and you did not like the growing smirk on his face. “Before you say anything,” he told you, “I know a guy. It’ll be fine — we’ll just dress the part and do some investigative journalism.”

“Oh, so it’s bad to check out a warehouse, but we’ll just crash the fundraiser of a member of the government body and suspected criminal? You’re insane.” A scoff escaped your mouth when he nodded. 

As you dropped your feet from the desk, you wanted to regret letting Parker in on this story or at least question who this guy was that could get you two into this fundraiser, but you had no better plan — or the guts to pull this off without him. 

“This has got to be pretty illegal…” you whispered.

Parker gave you a smile that both calmed you and let butterflies loose in your stomach. “Absolutely. But Beaumont committed the crimes first, so we’re just evening it out.” He crossed his arms, the fabric of his long sleeve wrapped tight around them. With an expectant look, he raised his eyebrows at you. “So, are you in?”

A minute passed as you thought, considering any other plans that wouldn’t end with the both of you in jail. But you came up with nothing. 

This better be one hell of a story. “Okay, fine. Let’s do this.”

“Great!” he said, clapping his hands together. “One more thing, though. We’re going to have to go as a couple. I’m thinking our last name could be–”

“Excuse me?” You cut him off, your eyes widening. Despite your mouth opening, nothing came out. You just dropped your gaze to the wall behind him as you let out a long breath.

“How else are we going to be convincing? All the other people joining are families or couples, right?”

He explained it so matter-of-factly. You understood, really. But pretending to be married to him while sneaking through a mansion? All for a ridiculous unpaid summer internship?

“Parker, have you come up with a torture plan?” You put your face in your hands, quietly groaning. You could be cordial with him and cautiously appreciate his (persistent) help on the story, but the idea of acting as a couple in love with him brought an uneasiness to your body. 

Would Alice approve? It felt again like you weren’t following your heart, which wanted to hide deep down behind your ribs.

Parker looked at you, his mouth pressed tight. “Hey, not exactly like getting down on a knee to you was my original plan here,” he muttered.

Still, you looked back at him, ignoring the intensity of his stare. “So what will our last name be?”

Bennet, it turned out, would be the last name on your IDs and invitations for the banquet in two days. Sam and Rose Bennet. 

During the days leading up, the two of you worked on regular assignments under the eye (and screaming) of Jameson. 

But if someone looked closely, they’d see your leg constantly shaking beneath your desk and Parker’s nails being bitten down to the bed. They might be able to hear the whispered comments between the two of you — most about what your story would be. They would even see the things neither of you could make out, like the unasked questions on the tips of your tongues or the pull that seemed to exist between you and Parker.

The story you decided on was high school sweethearts — private school, of course. Something arranged by your equally rich and philanthropic parents, whose money you’d be happy to donate to Stronger Together during the fundraiser. 

In reality, you both scrounged up enough money to rent nice enough clothes for the event and hoped that you wouldn’t have to pay for any extra damage. Besides the money concern, the risk of something happening to the clothes (and you, more importantly) weighed over your mind. Parker didn’t seem to have any worries, or voice them to you at least, about this whole plan going sideways.

So, you planned for it by yourself. Which exits would be best, which people you should probably stay away from. And you still didn’t ask how Parker exactly got you two into this, not that you were sure you wanted to know.

It didn’t even cross your mind the night of, not as you stood in your apartment, slipping on a floor-length gown that seemed to lay just right. Your fingers ran along your body, fixing things here and there until you were sure no rich politician would look twice at you and suspect something. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you weren’t sure you recognized yourself — or the idea you had of yourself. Maybe that was a good thing.

Your frayed nerves turned electric as your phone went off, a text from Parker letting you know he was here. For a minute, you hesitated. The constant thrumming in your chest clouded your thoughts, telling you something that you couldn’t quite make out.

As a second, more impatient, text came through, you gave one last glance at yourself and walked out into the hallway.

Each step to the front door in shoes that squeezed your feet much too tightly felt like a jolt to your heart. A breeze pushed past you as you walked out to his car — one that he’d have to park far away so the valet couldn’t see his shitty 2004 Honda Civic.

Parker stood leaning against the side of the vehicle, one hand scratching at his jaw and the other shoved far into his rented tux’s pockets. He stared down at his shoes, his vacant look telling you he also had a thousand thoughts running through his mind.

But as his gaze drifted up, connecting with yours, that worried crease between his eyebrows smoothed out, his hand dropping from his jaw down to his lap. Your steps slowed, your fingers clutching tight onto a purse you borrowed from a friend. 

Those honeyed eyes turned bright as a ghosting smile spread across his face. You took in the image of him staring at you in that tuxedo — one that you could tell he wasn’t used to if you looked too hard. Not that you were doing that, of course. Still, the expensive material sat nicely along his tanned skin from the summer sun.

Though, you couldn’t figure out what felt off about him until you came closer, the buzzing in your ears growing much too loud as you neared. Reaching a hand up, your eyebrows furrowed, you went to fix his hair. The caramel strands sat straight and slicked back. It didn’t look like he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times.

But as you felt his breath brush along your skin, saw the stillness of his body, you paused. Too close. Too much, even for a fake couple.

You dropped your hand by your side, begging your body to calm down. You avoided his eyes as you took a step back. “Sorry,” you whispered, maybe for the first time to him, “Your hair just looks so…”

“Stuffy? Obnoxious? Greasy?”

“Pretentious is what I was going to say.”

His tight laugh brought some sort of relief to your tense muscles, even as he pushed off his car and muttered, “Glad we both look the part then.”

You raised an eyebrow, staring at him while fighting a smile. “You know, Parker — or Bennet, I should say — a real gentleman would’ve opened my door for me.”

Right before he plopped down in his car, he said, “You’re lucky I’m even picking you up, Mrs. Bennet.”

Quietly, you let out a huff and got into the passenger seat. Your hands brushed along your dress, straightening it out.

As you picked off a stray piece of lint, you said, “I’m not sure this is the right way to start as a couple.” You tried to make your words sound easy, but it didn’t even sound convincing to you.

Parker began driving, keeping his eyes on the road as he drummed a finger along the steering wheel. “You’re right — but don’t let that get to your head, sunshine. Okay, when did we first meet?”

“We first met fifteen years ago, but we didn’t start dating until ten years ago when our parents put us together. Toward the end of high school…”

“Where we went to different colleges but made the long-distance thing work. Somehow,” he said, waving a hand as if it didn’t matter or no one would ask how.

“And now, using the money we’ve saved up through our parents’ endowment funds and-”

“Wait, what does that even mean?” you asked, realizing he came up with this without telling you until now.

“It uh… it’s something to do with donations. I Googled it — it’s fine. Anyway, we’re using that and their savings to give back like they have always wanted. Great, fool-proof.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded for a second before shaking your head. “Parker, that makes no goddamn sense. This is a terrible idea.”

“Well, we’re going to be there soon, so too late now.”

“It’s actually not too late,” you told him, your throat feeling tight. “Let’s just turn around, okay?”

“Hey,” he said as the car came to a stoplight. He turned to look at you, the shine of the light illuminating half of his face. 

His voice came out soft. “You nearly burgled a criminal’s warehouse, and you lied to a government official’s secretary, or something. This will be a piece of cake, alright?” Ever so quietly, a warmth bloomed in your chest, melting the cold fear that’d been wrapping around you. You gave him a short nod, making him give a tight-lipped smile and keep driving. “Great! Now, suck it up, sunshine, and come up with a better backstory. I can’t do all of the thinking in this marriage.”

A laugh bubbled up from your mouth. You rolled your eyes, even though your fidgeting had calmed down. 

With a long breath out, you said, “What about if my grandmother left me money in her will, and I’m honoring her memory by giving it back to the city she loved?”

“Not bad… and sorry for your imaginary loss. I think it’ll keep people from prying too much further.”

“I hope so,” you muttered, hoping this half-baked plan would work.

Eventually, Parker slowly rolled the car to a stop. He parked on a smaller residential road a few blocks away, but you could still see the lights shining into the sky from Beaumont’s place. His castle to overlook all the peasants of the city.

Your shoes clicked across the pavement, the two of you nearing the mansion. With each step, you tried harder to ignore your heart hammering louder. 

You breathed out a shaky breath when Parker held out his arm next to you. Hesitantly, you took it, wrapping your arm around his. Normally, you might’ve ignored the hardness of his body or the warmth seeping into your skin, but the solid, unyielding feeling of him brought some sort of grounding.

Leaning his mouth toward your ear, Parker said, “Which one do you think is going to pop first? The vein bulging from Jameson’s forehead or the huge one in his neck?” 

The laughs you let out were sharp and involuntary, a smile breaking out on your face. Looking at him, at the grin he sent your way, you said, “Definitely the one on his forehead. And you’re going to be the one to make him mad enough to pop it.”

“I’ll be sure to wear those plastic ponchos the next time I’m late.”

“So… Monday? We can pick one up after the fundraiser for you.”

The giggles underlacing your words slowly died down as you turned the street corner, your eyes catching all the other couples approaching the towering house. Valets stood at the front, taking car keys from guests before they came to the doors — guards standing on either side.

“You’ve got the invitations?” you whispered to Parker, your hold on his arm growing tighter. 

He quietly scoffed. “Of course I have them. Who do you think I-” His words stopped, his hands patting down his suit jacket for the invitation. Right as you felt your stomach threaten to curl in on itself, he flashed you a grin. “Just kidding, they’re right here,” he told you, grabbing them from his pocket.

With a forced smile plastered to your face in front of all these guests, you gritted out, “I’m going to murder you.”

“You are too funny, dear,” Parker said, or more likely, Sam Bennet said as the two of you walked up to the doorman holding his hand out for the invitations. 

The way Parker’s mouth curled around the affectionate name felt foreign at first, but the way the doorman looked at the two of you — as if you really were a happy couple — made it feel right. 

And that was it, that was all it took for a softness to flow over you and let yourself become Rose Bennet. For tonight.

@hollandweather @dil3mma @reidslovely

[the-californicationist]

The Logistics

This is (at long last!) a short request gift for the wonderful @glitterypirateduck who is an amazing source for all things COD fics!! Seriously, you are missing out if you're not following their blog. They've got challenges and recs galore. Be sure to stop by and give them some love!!

DUCKS! I'm so sorry this took me so long. Thanks for being patient. It's a little short and a little sweet, but I hope it inspires you. ✌️🩷

The goal was to capture the fun lovin' from this scene from Crazy Stupid Love. I have NOT seen this movie, so thanks for suspending your expectations, everyone.

Everything about him screamed man. He was brazen with his body language, making wide sweeping motions with his hands when he talked, using a voice that rumbled and boomed like thunder, using his heavy, muscled form to take up space in the room. His beard and hair were immaculately groomed, and his clothing choices all seemed to have a level of intent in their favor. 

His name was Alex Keller. You didn’t know him, but everyone else did, and they couldn’t stop talking about him. He was supposedly some hot-shot CIA agent with a license to kill, but that all sounded like a tall tale to you. And you didn’t really care to know the truth until you locked eyes with him from across the bar. 

You thought he’d look away, maybe turn back to his friends, laugh heartily at more of their jokes. A quick glance was all it was supposed to be. But, it wasn’t quick. He stayed bound by your gaze, and you watched as his face went slack. Those big blue eyes gleamed in the low lamp light of the bar. Then, as if suddenly thawed back to life, he started to make his way over to you and your friends’ table.

“Oh, my God,” Tara gasped, slapping you on your bare thigh.

You winced, looking over at her, 

“What?”

“He’s coming. Keller is coming over here.”

“What? He’s what?” Helena craned her neck around you to stare. 

“So?” You asked.

“So!?” They both exclaimed at the same time.

“Good evening, ladies,” his voice melted over your group like warm honey, soft and sticky, clinging to everything it landed on. 

You rolled your eyes, edging out of the booth.

“Hey, leaving so soon?” He smiled down at you from his towering height. He smelled expensive, and it was intoxicating. You did everything you could to ignore it. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, reaching for your clutch, “My carriage is turning into a pumpkin soon, and you really don’t wanna be inside it when that happens.”

“Yeah,” he said, following your movements with his eyes, watching you pull yourself together, “Sounds sticky.”

“Very,” you smiled curtly. 

Then, he started following you to the door. You looked at him over your shoulder, 

“You lose something?”

He laughed, putting his hands in his pockets, fully at ease in the most attractive way,

“No, but I’m looking for something.”

You made it to the curb and waited for a cab. It was raining hard enough to make you shiver, and you couldn’t help but glare as you turned to reply to him,

“What are you looking for, Mr. Keller?”

He was getting soaked, but he smiled slyly as he looked down at the glistening pavement in a brief moment of vulnerability,

“You.”

You scoffed, 

“Does that line work on anybody?”

He glanced up at you incredulously, 

“Sometimes, yeah!”

You smirked, rolling your eyes again and waving down a cab driver. 

“Wait!” He grabbed your arm.

You looked at him like he was out of his mind for touching you like that, and he let you go, raising his hands in surrender. He continued with his pitch,

“Come back to my place. Just for one drink. And if you’re still not into me, I’ll bring you home. I promise.”

“And what happens when you serial kill me?” You asked, impatient.

“I don’t think it’s serial if it’s just once.”

“That doesn’t make it better!”

He laughed, backing up a half-step,

“Okay, I promise not to serial kill you. You just…” His face softened and he looked at you in a way no one had ever looked at you before, “You look good. Please. One drink?”

“So, is this how it normally works?” You asked in a short tone. You could tell that you were fidgeting, feeling your hands tugging on the short hem of your dress, and you tried to stop. You just needed something to do while he was stripping down in front of you. It was the most delicious display you’d ever witnessed, and you couldn’t look away. 

“What?” Alex looked up at you as he stripped off his outer jacket, rolling it over those muscular shoulders.

All the words rushed out of your mouth at once before you could stop them, “You know, you, like, put on the perfect song and make them drink… and then you sleep together.” 

“…um, yeah.” He smiled, crossing his arms over his wide chest as he leaned against the back of his white leather sofa.

Everything in his place looked expensive. The CIA apparently paid pretty well. The countertops were a glittering white quartz, the floors were marble, and the walls all seemed to be made of glass. Everything shone, except for you, it seemed.

“I’m very nervous,” you laughed, not sure why you were confessing to him.

“I’m getting that,” Alex laughed, too. It made you feel better, though just a bit.

“Okay, ‘cause I know I seemed confident back at the bar. That was, um… that was mostly just because I was cold… and wet… and trying to be dramatic, a little bit.”

He was watching you through your whole speech, raking his eyes over you without worrying about hiding his leering. Then, he smiled again, tempting you,

“You’re adorable.”

“No!” You found some courage somewhere deep down in your heart and stood your ground, “I am sexy. I am R-rated sexy. Okay, I know what happens in the PG-13 version of tonight, alright? I know. It’s - uh, that - I get really drunk and pass out and you cover me with a blanket and you kiss me on the cheek and nothing happens! But, that’s not why I’m here. I am here…” You made sure to emphasize your words with your body language, turning up the aggression as far as it would go, “...to bang the hot guy that hit on me at the bar.”

“Alex,” he pointed to himself, helping you with his name.

“Alex.”

“Do people still say ‘bang’?” He questioned.

“Oh, I do. We are gonna bang. Yeah, this is happening,” you sighed, shaking off the nervousness quite literally. Then, resolutely, you commanded him, “Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

Breathless, you repeated yourself in a rush, hoping you wouldn’t lose your nerve,

“Please, will you just take off your shirt? ‘Cause I can’t stop thinking about it. And I need you to just…”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Alex started to take his shirt off, undoing button after button until he was able to shuck off his last layer.

“Okay, okay,” you mimicked, breathing steadily to keep yourself calm.

“Okay.” 

It was unbelievable that a real human person could look like that. It was even more unbelievable that a person who looked like that would be standing in front of you. You threw up your hands in despair, 

“Seriously!? It’s like you’re photoshopped! Can I…?”

Some demonic possession took over your body and stretched out your arms to touch his warm abdominal muscles. They felt smooth and pliant beneath your fingers, and when he flexed them, they went as rigid as a stone.

“Ah! You have cold hands!” He yelped, moving away, “Now, you take off your dress.”

“No!”

“Yes,” he insisted.

“No way! Not with all that goin’ on. No, thank you. Is there dim lighting somewhere?”

“No,” he smiled at you, holding back his laughter.

“Oh, God. Okay,” you ran your hands through your hair, trying not to panic, “So, what do we do? What happens now? Like, logistically? What’s your move?”

“I got lots of moves, babe,” his smile turned smug, and he shook his head as if to shrug off your doubt.

“What’s your big move?” You pressed.

“I’m not telling you about my big move. You’re not ready for the big move.” 

“Yes, I am! I want your big move,” you insisted. Alex was right; you were not ready, but you’d gotten this far, and you decided that there was no turning back.

“Dirty Dancing.”

“What?” You hadn’t heard him correctly, because it sounded like he was saying the words Dirty Dancing.

“It’s the song from Dirty Dancing. I put it on and then I do the big move,” he lifted up his hands in a mock rehearsal, making a strong base with which to lift his date up into the air, “You know, from Dirty Dancing. Works every time.”

“Oh, my God! That would never work on me,” you laughed out loud, eyes wide with shock. 

And that’s how you found yourself, seven feet up in the air, hoisted above Alex Keller’s head in the middle of his living room while the theme song from Dirty Dancing was playing in the background.

It should have been ridiculous, really. You wanted to laugh at yourself. But, you couldn’t. As he lowered you, keeping you close to his chest, sliding you all the way down his body with elegant ease, you could barely breathe. It was as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room, and suddenly, you were taking Alex Keller’s big moves very seriously. You took them even more seriously when your thighs and belly grazed over the biggest move of the night: his hardening cock. 

He gazed down at you with the look of a starving man. His eyes had lost their humor, and he was studying you with sincerity, tuned into your every breath and movement. You were looking at his mouth, and you saw his lips part. You thought the kiss might be slow and careful, but it was everything else. 

Alex rushed you. His mouth was on you in a flash, pressing into your lips and teeth with blissful abandon, not caring how he was holding you or where he was standing. All of it - the whole room - fell away and it was just his tongue sliding across yours, his jaw pushing into yours, his body warming yours. You were overwhelmed by him. 

The straps of your dress were pulled down, and his belt jangled off. Shoes clattered, clothing pooled, and you were falling backwards onto the leather sofa together like two ravenous wolves, hungry for each other beyond measure. 

He kissed your neck, licking at your skin before he sucked on it, tasting your makeup, your perfume, your lotion, and you. He gasped, wrapping you tighter in his arms,

“Fuck… you are so goddamn fine.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything at all. 

His hands found your panties, and he shuddered. It was as if he had just been shocked, bitten by the warmth of you. 

“Oh, my God,” you whispered.

“What? Are you okay?” Alex gave you his full attention.

“No. Yes! No, it’s just… you’re too hot.”

He smiled, 

“You’re one to talk. This is all your fault.”

You felt him slide his cock out of his boxer briefs and tap its rigid length against your lacy panties. It was sexy and absolutely ridiculous, and your body loved it. You let out a short moan, and he caught it. 

“Mmm, she’s naughty.”

“You’re a lot of talk for such a hot dude,” you teased.

“Aren’t hot dudes allowed to be nervous, too?” He asked, looking up at you, his cock still in his hand. 

There was the slightest hint of shyness behind his eyes, just enough to let you know it was there. You smiled at him, raking your hands through his shock of blond hair, 

“No. You’re too hot to be nervous.”

“Well,” he chuckled, “I am, a bit.”

“Yeah, well… welcome to the club,” you kissed his cheek, worried that it was too sweet. 

But, it was just what he wanted. He melted into it, leaning into your kiss, sighing at its contact. Then, his voice dropped to a whisper, and he kept his face close to yours as he said,

“What if we just stay like this? Just for now. Is that okay, pretty girl?”

He slipped his cock inside of your panties and nestled his shaft between your wet lips, rubbing himself on you. 

“Yeah, that feels good,” you admitted, letting him kiss his way down your neck. 

His hands were everywhere. He plucked at your nipples, wetting his fingers before he did so, letting them slip and slide over your tight peaks, making you gasp for him. All the while, he was thrusting into you, slicking himself in your wetness, gasping and moaning with you. 

You angled your hips to give him more of you, more of that warmth you kept between your thighs, and he laughed. A look of shock was plastered on his face, and you asked him,

“What’s wrong?”

He was still reeling as he whispered back to you,

“I can’t believe I’m close.”

You brought his face back to yours to kiss him again, feeling yourself building up to a climax as well, though it was a ways off. You grinned at him softly,

“Why? Are photoshopped guys not allowed to get turned on.”

He chuckled, kissing you back,

“I guess we are. Maybe when a photoshopped girl is here, like this, yeah…”

You gave him a gentle slap on his chest, giggling together as he rubbed himself against you. Then, his hand joined his efforts, softly encircling your clit and coaxing you closer and closer to your peak. His thrusts became frantic, searching for pleasure with every push and pull.

The way his body was yanking against the elastic of your panties was intoxicating, and his hands seemed to sense exactly what you needed when you needed it. He picked up his pacing, and you watched in awe as all of those muscles and bones worked for you, struggled just to get you off, flexing and curling and flushing above you like a delicious morsel, ready to be devoured.

You heard yourself mewling quietly, and he egged you on,

"That's it, pretty girl. I like that. Need that..."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and held on tight to him, feeling your body tense and freeze as you melted into a warm, shimmering orgasm, crying out louder and louder as you lost control.

You still didn’t know Alex Keller very well, but you were starting to really enjoy finding out.

[serial-killers-hope]

Blink and you���ll miss it.

TW / CW :

- SPOILERS FOR GLUTTONY GODS

- SPOILERS FOR KILLER CHAT ( Ronin’s route )

- Death

- Gore

- Murder ( mentioned )

Stay safe, enjoy.

God’s Requiem.

Eyes strewn from the heavens, now watching the two who bickered to no end.

“Come on Ther, don’t you crave the feeling? Revenge is key after all…” His hands slithered onto their shoulders, his eyes stuck on how their chest rose and fell with every breath lost to time. “You agree with me… don’t you?”

“Ronin…”

Ther sighed quietly, arms crossed against their chest with fiery curls flowing down their back. They glared over at Ronin, blue and piercing. Just the way he liked it.

“C’mon. We can do this… please, one chance. Back to AngelWood. Back to hell. Jus’ you an’ me.”

As much as Ther wanted this, they couldn’t go back. They didn’t want to relive the past as much as Ronin did. But gods did revenge leave such a sweet taste on their tongue.

They turned to look at the man, tall and brooding. Ther swore they could see a tail wag behind him. Pointed and red. It made them cringe a bit at the blood stained crowbar that rested on his hip, hanging loosely from its spot. An odd comfort, sure, but worth the risk.

“… Fine. We’ll go.”

Ronin lit up, pumping his fist into the air with a hiss of yes’s and strewn about ideas cobbled together for some massacre that he swore will get them into hell ( though they knew for a fact they were already doomed to go ). Ther laughed slightly, pushing down the awkwardness into the back of their throat with a heavy aura that radiated discomfort.

Ronin could practically feel it; well, he knew it. He always pushed, never bothered to stop unless it took their own consciousness and morality into question. But he sighed, wrapped his arms around their waist now to pull them into a tight embrace.

Comfort. The one thing Ther needed and got. God… was this hard to endure.

“Let just go. Please.”

Ronin only nodded, opening the car door with a little bow and an eerie grin. His eyes following their every move as they slipped into the passenger seat. It made him giddy almost. Practically bouncing as he walked around and slid into the drivers seat with a smile.

“To AngelWood we go.”

The whir of the cars engine filled the atmosphere with muffled radio static and small pitted patters of rain hitting the windshield with wipers following behind the white noise that Ther once had been comforted by. Though Ronin drove through the forested streets after their little witch-hunt.

“… You okay?”

Ronin’s voice was sympathetic, if only a bit. Obviously holding no malice of course.

“Yeah. Fine.”

Ther’s voice was soft and eloquent as usual, but held a tremor that Ronin dared not comment on.

The air grew silent once more, nothing but static and rain for miles. It was strange how the scent of moist pine and rain with a bit of copper filled the environment. Smooth and cold. Not too cold, just enough to make their bodies stand on edge.

“… How much more longer till…?”

“We’re there?” Ronin looked over to a little clock in the car, shrugging a bit. “An hour or two. Just a bit longer… you can wait a bit more, can’t you?���

“Uh… yes. I think so.”

Ronin sighed, facing the road once more and skidding the car, a running deer crossing the path.

“FUCK!”

He cursed aloud and heard Ther’s screams of warning, the car spinning around and ramming into a tree on the side. The airbags exploding out of their designated spaces and practically breaking all the glass around them. Fortunately, the deer remained unscathed.

Ronin exhaled slightly, huffing as the airbag filled his view.

“Shit… Ther, you okay?”

He pushed the bag down a bit, the thick smell of copper invading his senses. Though Ronin stayed calm, trying not to panic at the moment.

“Ro…”

Their voice was raspy, thick with pain and sadness. One he dreaded for ages.

“Ther…?”

He looked over, eyes widening as he scrambled to remove his seatbelt. Cursing loudly and ignoring the glass that pierced his clothes and skin. Ronin didn’t want this to be true, fuck. If it was, he would forever feel guilty. More than he usually did.

“Stay with me Ther!”

He finally got out, rushing over to the passenger side and gagging at the horror that befell him.

A branch had pierced Ther’s chest, straight through their left lung and stained crimson. The flesh torn apart and dug into the wound. It made him want to pray for once in his miserable life that this was a dream. All he could do was take their hands, pleading for them to stay alive as he tried his best to keep his composure. Tears streaming down his face as he screamed out their name.

“Ther, FUCK! Just stay-“

Ther’s voice fell silent as they shushed him, a small smile on their face as they leaned their head back. Their touch growing limp.

“Thank you Ronin. For indulging me… just this once.”

[panandinpain0]

Big Family

Had some time during school today so I wrote this! Hope it isn't bad :P

Also, do you want to be added to the taglist @mailmango?

Ron Weasley x Male!Ravenclaw!Granger!Reader

---

Holding hands was always so calming to Ron. He was very touchy, not only with (Y/N). It wasn't anything weird, it's just that his love language is physical touch, so he'd hug his friends without shame, and after finding out his boyfriend was 100% okay with PDA, he went for it. Any moment he could, he'd be touching (Y/N): hands on his shoulders or around his waist, lips brushing his neck, and he really loved when (Y/N) would sit on his lap.

For the snuggles aspect, of course.

Not for any other reason.

But after feeling particularly ignored by his family, not that they did it on purpose- but it happens- he seeks comfort through the touch of his boyfriend.

Laying on his bed in the Ravenclaw dorms, to avoid Harry's teasing, the boys held each other.

Ron's head was on (Y/N)'s chest as he laid on top of him, legs intertwined. (Y/N) had his arms around Ron, one hand coming up to comb through his hair. The motion further relaxed the hot headed Gryffindor, nearly luring him to sleep.

Ron reached up and took the hand from his hair, pressing a kiss to it instead. A blush spread across (Y/N)'s face as Ron placed the hand to his cheek, nuzzling it fondly.

"Ron?" (Y/N) hesitantly whispered into the calm air.

"Yes, honey?" Ron replied, his voice muffled with sleep.

"I love you."

Ron gasped awake, putting his hands on the mattress under (Y/N). He pushed himself up until he was eye-level with his boyfriend.

"You love me?" Ron repeated with an incredulous look.

"Yes. I'm in love with you. I love you." (Y/N) cupped his cheeks, tracing his freckles. The Gryffindor merely started in shock, fists clutching the blue blanket beneath them.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Insecurity and self-doubt overtook him and he scrambled off his Ravenclaw partner, sitting a the edge of the bed.

(Y/N) took this as rejected, sitting up and staring at his boyfriend's side profile. HIs brows were creased and his lip was trembling.

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd waited long enough- is it too soon for 'I love you's'?" (Y/N) asked, voice filled with anxiety. Placing his hand on Ron's shoulder, he flinched back as Ron pushed it off just as quickly as it had taken its place. He stood up, a stomp in his step as he turned to face (Y/N).

Red in the face, his breath picked up, but (Y/N) could see the tears gathering in his eyes.

"Why?" Ron asked harshly, fists clenched at his sides.

"'Why' what?" (Y/N) repeated gently, more worried for Ron than anything.

"Why me?"

(Y/N) couldn't formulate a response, eyebrows meeting in confusion.

"I'm fucking worthless, (Y/N)! You're a Granger- and a Ravenclaw- top of your class. I'm such an idiot I barely get past 'Poor' in my marks! Not only that but you're so handsome it hurts- but look at me! You deserve better than-"

Suddenly his face was in (Y/N)'s hands, both of them crying. Ron hadn't noticed the tears until now, the wet drops being wiped away by the pads of (Y/N)'s fingers.

"Stop it, Ron. You are not worthless-" Ron opened his mouth but (Y/N) shushed him- "You need to listen to what I'm about to say. You are the most beautiful man I've every met. And you are so smart-"

"I'm not as smart as Percy-"

"Fuck Percy! Listen, I love your family, but you must stop comparing yourself to your brothers and me, no matter how often your mother does. Just because you don't get the same marks as Percy or me doesn't mean you're dumber than us. I know nothing about quidditch!"

"Yes, you do."

"All I know I learned from you. Wizarding currency? You taught me about that too. And I'm sure you could beat Percy in any trivia about historic wizards." (Y/N) laughed and Ron matched his watery chuckle.

"You are just enough for me, Ron. More than enough, more than I could ask for. I love you, and you are more than deserving of my love."

Ron smiled, still crying, before pulling (Y/N) into a hug. His head tucked into (Y/N)'s neck and he breathed in his comforting scent.

"It's okay that you aren't ready to say it back, I just wanted you to know how I feel." (Y/N) let his hand run up and down his back, his other hand slipping into Ron's hair.

"Thank you."

---

Ta-Da!!!

-Author Max <3

[johngaliawife]

(|NSFW/

(swearing/nsfw/)

All ways as a little girl you always wanted to join the mafia but you we're all ways told that 'it was to dangerous' or they told you it against there rule one day you decided to pass the rule and join once you got transferred to a part of the mafia called "la squadra" as it been 1 year since you joined you got a stand to tag along with you

Since the hype you've heard about the mafia was not it as your gang leader Risotto was 'to broke' to get you a room so you had to stay with the one and only Ghiaccio since you guys had nothing I mean nothing in common you were always the sunshine of the group you helped clean the house you've always been nice to everyone else as Ghiaccio was noting but a hot head thunderstorm

As you were in bed one day you were playing on your phone doing what ever as you could hear yelling from downstairs it was pretty easy to figure out Ghiaccio was yelling at someone for ticking him off as some what later the thunderstorm stomps upstairs to your shared room as he busted the door open and looked over to you about to explode

"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!" He says almost literally foaming from the mouth

As you ignored him not wanting to get frozen you left him alone for now at least as Ghiaccio started to walk back and forth blabbering, and ranting about how he doesn't get 'payed enough' as he calms down enough as he does he sat on the edge of the bed and put a Hand over his head as you spoke

"I am sorry but like there's like nothing I can do-"

you said a awkward tone thing of what to say "wanna a hug?" You say tilting your head

"Yea right?! I want one I'll freeze you boobs off as if I'll ever get close to you?!"

As you thought it was a joke you laughing as that set Ghiaccio off as he got up and walked over to you as you saw only seriousness on his face as he walked over to you now only a midget foot away as he just grab your boobs about to freeze them like he said as you had a very weird reaction as you moan as you did that made it very very awkward as you to just stared at him as he did the same as you didn't think it was going to get worst you can feel him squeezing your boobs his eyes looked so confused and innocent for a man who's probably killed more then Jeffrey Dahmer as Ghiaccio turned back to look down at you as he looked like he finally had the opportunity to even touch a woman for the first time in his life

“Was that a moan.?” He said unsure to be angry or confused

You didn’t answer him and shock your head as you did he squeezed your chest again as you let out another moan as you slapped him across the face

“Hey do not toy with my like that?!” You yelled it was probably the first time you yelled in a long time as you slipped out a sorry at the end

Even though you said sorry Ghiaccio didn’t take it and grabbed your wrist setting it in place as he took your phone a through it on the ground though it didn’t break you stood up

“What the hell-??” You were cut off by him shoving you down by your shoulder pinning you to your bed as you felt yourself looking up in his his blue eyes as you felt this weird attraction to him at that moment as you felt his hand on your breast once more

As he did he just started to mumble to him self started to just massage your boobs as you were less mad then more.? Pleasured as his hands had a strong grip on them as you couldn’t help but undo your shirt as you did your boobs sprung out

He looked surprised by your actions but seemed more interested in your boobs as he stared at you f/c lace bra as he took no time to take the top of your bra and ripped it off un clipping the back you looked shocked as your boobs bounced as they were free feel his cold body close to them gave you goosebumps

You felt his left hand on your left boob and started to play and massage your nipple making it harden as you moaned in pleasure nonetheless you felt his tongue place it self on your other nipple circling around it making you clenched and hold your legs tightly together as you felt your self getting wet by his actions

As you felt his cold lips on yours then giving you a passionate kiss as your tongues intertwined as you self in your lowers leg his hardened boner brushing against as you felt you need to do something as you tried to reach down to unbuckle his pants as he didn’t let that slid

He grabbed hands and pinned them against your bed frame as he pinned them there with his hands as he sat up looking down at your his breath heavily and his glasses half fogged up as he started to one hand undo his belt leaving your boobs alone for now

As he took if his little striped weird pants revealing his boxers as you saw the Calvin Klein imprint on it as you just saw the inline as he pushed down his boxers making his 8’ inch cock spring out

You looked at it memorized about what your going to lose your virginity, to my eyes followed his happy trail down to his member as he has not more time in the world as he didn’t even take it off he managed to rip your skirt as just simple moved your wet panties to the side being impatient

As he positioned himself into you as with no warning pushing him self as your walls tightened around his memeber as he mumbles “fuck your tight” he groans as he continues to push into you then started to trust inside of you as you felt his length in you

You already felt your self getting into a climax as he trusted in you still pinning your hands to the headboard as your moaning got louder untill you hit your climax as let out as so did Ghiaccio giving you a cream pie as he took him self out of you

“That’s not how you treat a woman during se-” “shut up” he mumbled as he took deep breaths as he took of his shirt as pulled his boxers up as you sat up with a small moan “lay back down”

He demands you as you listened laying back down as he took a second to yawn and lay back down as he bickered for you to lay closer to him as you did as he held you in his arms ever so slightly as you smiles

“You suck at aftercare” you mumble Lay in his chest

“SHUT THE FUCK UP” he yells as non less later you both fall asleep

[oh-soo-diabolik]

Family Trips and car rides.

warnings: swearing, emo life 👽🩵

<was thrown back in time with this one>

“Pass me the fucking aux, you breast-less bitch.” His words tickle the edge of your ear.

With his body looming over the driver's seat, the drive was going to be a long and difficult one. Sucking your teeth you forcelt shove the white wire into Ayato’s hand.

“If you play some trash shit, I’m killing us all.” you sneer at the red head.

A snickering captivates your attention, your eyes flicker to its owner. Laito Sakamaki. “Including you, Laito. Anyway, why do you always have to-”

A sudden sound of music blasting through the speakers, shakes the car. “Jesus Christ, Ayato. Give us a warning.” You pester on.

The eldest brother Shuu, jumps in from his comfortable position, his blue eyes sends daggers into Ayato’s skull.

“Yeah whatever,— why does Shuu get to sit up front? You belong to yours truly, so it’s apparent who should be in front.” Ayato mutters, as he shifts back into the middle seat.

The once quiet car ride now filled with the sounds of cursing and screaming, this was going to be the longest five hour drive in vampire history.

“Yeah and because you, I’m a Vampire, done without my consent may I add. So now I’ll be ignoring you for the next two hundred years.” you retort, your hands grip the steering wheel.

You were now stuck with them for an eternity.

<prayers to u reader san>

“Heh?! We live in the same house.” Ayato argues, you smirk in response as you glimpse into the rear view mirror at Subaru, who sat silently on the left of Ayato.

Dripping with anger and annoyance.

“I mean, Subaru did it for three hundred. I’ll get pointers from him if needed.” You snicker, Ayato glares at you, gritting his teeth. “Isn’t that right? Su.Ba.Ru~”

“Fuck you all, I hate it here. I want to die.” Subaru spurs, reaching for his airpods in his pocket. “Fuck, are we there yet?” he adds.

“Oi, Emo fuck, you think you’re the only one who wants to die?” Shuu chimes in, your eyes roll, they are the same as they were ninety years ago.

Only thing that seemed to change about them was their ‘human age’, they no longer the teenage boys you once knew, they were now college age and having an identity crisis, especially Reiji.

“Save the dying for after my birthday trip, why am I driving anyway? It’s my birthday.” You whine in annoyance, who in their right mind made the birthday girl/boy drive to their own birthday trip?

“Well, you’re the only one with a license.” Shuu says with a shrug, if you were in an anime you would’ve sweat-dropped by now.

You were always curious, how did an advanced species of creatures work around driving and insurance?

“So, how did you guys get around then?” You quickly shoot Shuu with a side eye reaction. Your tongue clicks as you notice the smirk on the blonde’s face.

“We have drivers.” was all he said.

“So why am I driving?” you question once more. “You fancy being a passenger princess?” You say with a teasing tone.

“Only if it’s you driving.” He grins, the sound of Ayato scoffing causes the blonde to stare at his brother. “What now?” Shuu says, his airpods wired casing, hanging around his neck.

“I want the front seat, lazy ass. Got too much dip on your chip.” Ayato taunts, Shuu howls with laughter.

“Fuck you and the dip. I’m the eldest, remember that. Her/Him and I fuck, not you.” Shuu continues to grill the younger Sakamaki.

“HUH?! I’ll kill you.” Ayato’s shouts, you let out a scream, you feel as all their eyes land on you.

“Now that I got everyone’s attention, shut up, my song is playing.” You mutter.

“Cut my life into pieces.” You begin.

As if creating a chemical reaction, the brothers (Subaru and Ayato mainly), begin to play their ‘role’ in the song. Subaru, guitarist, Ayato, the moral support.

“I should’ve burned in that village.” Reiji finally speaks up, his head leaning against the window as the car fills with laughs and terrible singing. Shockingly enough, Kanato was sound asleep, perhaps those edibles did come in handy.

end~

a/n; was in a goofy silly mood and decided to post this short fic for y’all. thinking of posting more like this. fanfic chap 2 is also coming soon ~ ya girls lazy.

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy weekend everyone :). We’ve reached the episode where Emmett and Lucy’s relationship comes to an abrupt end. Get to delve into why it ended and see Tim help her through it like he does. It’s a solid ep for them. Also more growth for our boy. Lets get going.

3x08 Bad Blood

We start with Lucy waking up to a cowardly breakup text from Emmett. Ugh. Not only that he’s dragging Tim into to it to grab his stuff from her. Extra helping of coward. I kinda wanna nut check him for this. No matter how Lucy treated the relationship this was unwarranted. I can’t stand people who aren’t forward with their feelings. Eject out of relationship through a text message instead of doing it face to face. Confrontation isn't fun but its better than doing this. Because that's all Emmett will be remembered for. Is having zero balls about their breakup. That's the legacy he's decided to leave.

It’s the first thing Lucy talks to Jackson about when she gets to work. She’s so mad and rightfully so IMO. Asking if he’s 14 years old? Why he couldn’t do it to her face? (man has no balls or integrity would be my guess) Jackson tells her sadly that’s most guys these days. She’s lucky she didn’t just get ghosted. So I guess he's one level above Uber coward then. Tim is within ear shot of all this. Asking Lucy if they can just get to work now?

Lucy ignores his plea to just go to work. Instead asking him if Emmett talked to him about this? Tim replies no why would he? That when they hang out its not a feelings party LOL Also If Emmett did Tim would’ve defended Lucy and told Emmett he was an idiot. I bet you he was far too scared to tell Tim about what he did. Especially after he ate him alive in 2x19. No way in hell he was coming to Tim about hurting her. Dude wouldn't have survived that convo.

Tim has the most Tim Bradford answer ever when he replies if she wants his advice? To Tim it’s so clear. He treated her badly to end the relationship. So naturally she just needs to walk it off. Cut that off emotionally and move on. Saying he clearly wasn’t the right guy for her. (He very much was not… *cough you are cough*) He’s always so brusk at first in his advice to her. Then once they’re alone in the shop away from Jackson he gets softer. I think part of that advice he gave here was cause they weren’t alone. How he is with her one on one is so different than when they have an audience.

We pan back to them finishing up a call. Lucy asking if Tim had ever been dumped out of the blue before? Then he makes a hilarious dark joke about Isabel. The change in this man regarding his ex-wife is unreal. The place he’s in now that he can use what happened to him in a sarcastic way is amazing. It has a dark edge to it like satire but progress none the less.

Clearly saying it to bring a little perspective to her about her situation. Lucy recognizes that but has to know the Why. I can’t blame her I’m the same way. It’s hard for me to let things go with no explanation. Especially when its affected me on a deep level. Lucy is practically begging Tim to ask Emmet WHY did he do this? This is something that is going to consume her day till she gets some answers.

Tim doesn’t have time to reply because he see’s the shop has been tagged. He goes white as a ghost. Lucy is trying not to laugh because she doesn’t understand what’s happening. Then Tim touches it and it’s fresh. He loses it and calls in the calvary. Lucy is looking around in a panic trying to asses the threat. Wondering why this feels like a DEFCON 1 situation right now.

We return to them at the station. Tim is explaining the situation to her. That 3Eyez was active from 2006-2010. Telling her they had victims all over the city. Whenever they got close to catching them it stopped. Tim assumed since it’s been so long they stopped. He also lets her know he checks the data base every 3 months. Just in case he shows up in another city.

Lucy says wow he must’ve been hardcore for him to obsess like this. Asks Tim what his biggest crime was? He tells her it’s him being a tagger. Costing the city hundred of thousands of dollars in repairs. Lucy is confused and says ok…in property damage though.... She is trying to connect why he’s so obsessed with them.

Then we find out his shop was tagged when he was a rookie. Not only that but he let it happen right under his nose. Lucy is getting a MAJOR kick out of this. Laughing and enjoying this piece of his history. Best part of her day so far. For a couple reasons. One he made a big ol' mistake as a rookie. You know she loves that. Delights her to no end. Especially with how he has berated her mistakes as his boot. Second she knows he must've had some unrelenting teasing attached to this moment. It happened right under his nose.

She is down right giddy as she is putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Asking him if he had a nickname? That after an incident like that no way he didn’t garner a nickname of some sort. Lucy is so desperate to get any intel on him pre-her. Especially in his own boot days. Tim can sense how damn eager she is about this. Tries to shut it down with a defensive ‘No…’ hahaha god I love them sfm. Lucy is enjoying teasing him about this far too much LOL

Lucy continues on saying this why he’s so intent on catching this guy. It’s personal. Tim tries to deflect as he does. Saying no. He’s a criminal and it’s their job to stop him. (Sure love sure....) Lucy tries to insert some logic into the situation by saying this seems pointless. The way he snatches back the photo it’s clear it’s not pointless to him…His wounded pride about an early mistake haunting him. Can't say I wouldn't be the same way. I take my failures so seriously even when they're not serious.

Jackson and Wade see 3Eyez mid tagging. They call it in and Tim hears it. Has them immediately attach to their call. Grey steps out of the shop and his back goes out. Jackson and Lucy go to help him. Tim stays in the shop and wants to go after the tagger. Leaving Lucy and Jackson behind to stay with Grey till ambulance arrives. Tim think he spots them in an ally and leaves his shop. It ends up being a dead end for him. He returns to which gets tagged again LOL Poor Tim can’t win for losing in this ep. He’s so mad.

The ambulance arrives for Grey. Lucy recognizes Dave from her time with Emmett. Asks if he works with him? He is instantly flirty with her and says Yes. He replies back she’s dating Emmet? Lucy says not anymore. His forwardness continues when he says how gorgeous she is. That he would be a fool to let her go. (I mean obviously... ) Lucy starts to see this as an opportunity to get back at Emmett. Not her most mature move here but she's going for it anyways.

Jackson can see this developing and isn’t on board. Gotta love him being frank with her about it afterwards. Lucy is just as forward and asks Dave out. Tells him Jackson will give him her number. Clearly only going out with this guy to get back at Emmett. Jackson immediately calls her on it. Lucy pulling a Tim defects what he’s saying. Before he can grill her further Tim pulls up in their tagged shop LOL He tells her not to say a word about it when he rolls up LMAO It’s too damn funny. He could not be more agitated about this.

Lucy is going on about her date with Dave. Asking Tim where they should go for dinner? Tim just makes a disapproving face. Lucy catches on real quick. Asking if he isn’t approving of her plan? Since he hasn't replied Lucy just goes OFF on a rant. Tim doesn’t even have to say anything. It’s almost like she unburdening her soul with the guilt she feels. Wanting him to say anything to justify or right her decision. Saying yeah maybe she is dating this guy to make Emmet jealous...

Tim says nothing and Lucy continues on saying Emmett deserves this. Radio silence... Then she point blank asks if he can say something to her please? She’s so desperate for his POV on this. Because when it comes to Lucy his emotional intelligence is off the charts. She needs his wisdom in this situation. Tim sighs and finally breaks. Says this is the first time In WEEKS she’s even mentioned Emmett. Lucy tries to deflect it by saying he doesn’t allow personal talk.

Tim doesn’t let her get away with that at all. Just like she calls him out he returns the favor in kind. Saying and yet we still have these conversations despite that. Basically saying if Emmett meant anything to her he would’ve been brought up to Tim. Even if he didn’t want to hear about it. That in all the conversations over the past few weeks she never once mentioned him. Lucy is still a little confused asks ‘What do you mean?’

It’s then Tim comes down with the truth hammer. It’s insane how well he can just zero in on her relationships. Like a mechanic looking at a car and spotting all the issues. This is something he does in the future with Chris in 5x08 as well. Helps her notice and face these issues. The issue in this instance being she was never invested in Emmett. That he treated the relationship the same way she did. With no care or effort. That it didn't matter. You watch the realization wash over her.

Like being smacked in the face with the truth. Melissa really crushes this portion. You can see her realizing what he's saying is true. That it's really sinking in and the guilt kicks in. Just like how only Lucy can talk to Tim like she does. It's the same for Tim with her. Only he can deliver the same telling her like it is that she does. This is what she wanted from this conversation though. Perspective, truth and the why behind it. Sometimes that hurts. This is something we learn with the relationships she has before Tim though. That's she never really all in with them.

She’s never really invested enough because they’re not what she already has with Tim. That deep inexplicable bond they share. It will forever take precedence over any of the other men she has in her life. They will ALWAYS pale in comparison to him. Now I don’t think she realizes she’s doing this at this point. But it’s exactly what she is doing. Especially knowing her next relationship and how that ends and why.

Leave it to Tim to deliver the why she has been searching for all day. The sad look of realization on her face gets to Tim though. You can see it above. He knows she's hurting now and distracted. So he does what he does best. Distracts her. Asks her what she thinks 3Eyez next plan is? Asking if they’re done for the day? Trying to get her brain moving. Get her out of her mental funk.

Even when Lucy explains what she thinks is their next plan she is still sad and distracted. So Tim offers up the info she so desperately wanted earlier. Offering a piece of his past to help heal her present. Something he’s done before and will only ever do for her. I love him not only telling her but having Isabel be involved in it. He has her laughing and smiling early into his story. Mission accomplished.

Using a good memory he has and sharing a part of his history to help her feel better. This is an underrated moment in the episode. I love it sfm. He needs to make sure she is ok. So he does this by offering up a piece of himself to her. That no personal life rule is a legit joke at this point haha

Tim has not shared a lot of happy moments if at all about Isabel. This was another massive step forward to the Tim we all know in s5. Willing to do anything for her especially if it makes her feel better. This tactic works like a charm. She is smiling and laughing at his story. Saying how sweet it was cause I mean it was. We forget there was a big chunk of time Tim was very happy with Isabel. Him sharing that vulnerability with her always floors me. Such a good scene. Look at how he is in that final gif. He's shared a past moment about Isabel and a happy one at that. He is not mad or grumpy he is happily reminiscing. Looking back and have it not hurt him but to just smile. This is HUGE for him.

They receive a falling incident call. Make their way towards it. Tim goes over trying to make sure this woman is ok. Lucy is trying to get his attention. Love her using his nickname to get his attention. ' Eagle eyes look up' Haha He finally looks where Lucy is staring and sees her tag. He then realizes it’s 3Eyez that’s in front of him.

This is their married scene of the episode. Lucy correcting him when he says how many times she’s tagged his shop. Can’t help herself and he looks up at her like really? You think now is this time for that? LMAO. Lucy knows when to shut it and walk away from being right. I love her body posture as she says this too. It’s too funny. Even has the most wifey look as she says it. Once again the ONLY person he allows to talk to him like this is her. It’s wonderful.

Tim joins her solo in her hospital room. Asks her why she started up again? She lets Tim know her husband left her....For his massage therapist. That she wasted the last 7 years of her life. You watch how her story impacts him. The empathy in his eyes when she’s telling him her story. Tim then asks 'Did she do this to get back at him?' She shakes her head tells him no. She just wanted to feel young again.

Then he does something truly lovely. He uncuffs her and gives her some lovely advice. Even makes her smile. Saying her husband is an idiot with a sweet smile. You can't tell me Lucy Chen hasn’t had an impact on this man. How is empathy has grown tenfold. Lets himself be kind and soft with others again.

This moment is proof of that. He spent the whole episode hunting her down. Wanting his justice for his past mistake. Then finding out she’s human and with a relatable past. He lets her go with just the misdemeanor and builds her up before he goes. Lucy would be so proud.

Speaking of Lucy she is filling out paperwork when she runs into Dave. He asks her if they’re still on for tonight? It’s then Lucy has to let him know her reasons behind it. Especially after her talk with Tim earlier. He seems ok with the reasoning. (Cause she’s beautiful that’s why.)

He tells her Emmett dumped her over text. He deserves this. Lucy can’t go forward with it. I’m proud of her for not being petty. That she wants to go out for the right reasons. Not because she’s hurt and angry. He tells he tells her he respects that. But in two weeks he’s gonna ask her again. We all know this legit goes nowhere LOL Never hear of Dave again but was a good moment of growth for Lucy.

~~~~~

Side notes non-Chenford.

Poor Jackson getting pulled in two different directions about his career. Both wanting to set up his entire life for him. Nice to watch him stand up for himself with them.

Oscar’s SL pretty hilarious. He’s always funny to watch come on. Do love Lopez wanting to murder him LOL She had good reason.

As always thank you to all who engage with these reviews. Your likes, comments and reblogs fuel my desire to write them. You’re all amazing. Shall see you all in 3x09 :)